Me Without Nelson

We moved out of the Nelson house last week.  It was sad for me but not for Vince.  He's good at not dwelling on stuff that is the way it is.  

Me? I'll miss being able to walk to the food co-op or to get a cup of coffee or organic french fries.   I'll miss being able to walk to rent any movie ever made, purple money and nearly free healthcare.  I'll miss crossing the border every week into a thriving economy where no one is not a hockey fan. 

We probably should have either built a house OR gone to film school, but we didn't know that until weekends when we were editing in sheet rock dust in front of a space heater.

Learning filmmaking was way harder than I'd ever imagined.  My life-experience edge wasn't the advantage I'd imagined. 

The distance I was out of my element was similar to when I took the bookkeeper job a the local grain elevator in 1974.  I don't know why they offered it to me, why I took it or why I thought I could do it.  I quit after one day which I'm sure which I'm sure was less time than it took to fix their books.  They insisted they pay me and I insisted they didn't.  

As of today, my new degree hasn't opened any doors in Hollywood.

Photos:
Coffee heaven.  Oso Negros railings crafted by a local metal artist

French fries on wheels.

Reo's made renting a movie even more fun than it normally would be.