Swiss Family Meganson.

Reflexes are softening, relaxing, dropping, and I cannot stop myself from sinking low into the corner arm chair stolen from the community laundry room and resting Dave Eggers' latest and greatest book into my lap for a moment of thankfulness. I am staring out to sea today; squinting really, for there is not a drop of sea in sight; not even a hint of a mirage. But still, for some reason, the idea of being suspended above water and leaving town once again is only calming. After my last entry, I received a torrent of tasteful ripostes, notes and calls of general inquiry about the current state of my mind. Yes, it was a tad on the dark side but for good reason. A humble thank you to all who noticed my downcast eyes.

With the turn of the New Year, I have taken it upon myself to look inwards and be proactive in changing the characteristics and habits that do not suit myself anymore. In a sense, I am flipping my outsides in, my insides out, wearing my heart on my sleeve and trying the idea of 'goodness' on for size. Out with the old, in with the new. Fortunately for retrospect, I was able to take the excess time I was banking in my dry bathtub, in my sister's arms, in my bottomless bowl of chili, at my parent's oak table, in my bed (et al) down to a dull roar and get outside, on my bike, in the fresh air in order to appreciate the goodness of Father Winter for what it truly was: a time to be (re)born. Here I am, feeling good. This new terrain takes some getting used to. Even with new muscles screaming out in protest (thanks to yoga and winter cycling), all I can do is slap on my "Shit yeah/Ya hurrr" face and nod in approval. I hurr.

How the waves of change wash us clean.

I think I am going to get a tattoo on the side of my thumb, for I am tired of writing the same word in the blackest of ink in the same place everyday. Africa has been heavy on my brain of late thanks to the aforementioned read du jour, Dave Eggers' "What is the What" (thanks to D. Barrymoore for the recommendation), and a certain tribe of Kenya that have also aided unknowingly in the pulling up of my proverbial bootstraps.

And so, the winds of change are howling once again. In a yet another bathtub rendezvous (not the good kind), a phone call from Zurich jolted me back to reality. My lovely family (pictured toque-clad at Zurich's Hop Banhoff below) that I stayed with on my last Eurotrash adventure caught wind of my overall dissatisfaction and presented me with an offer only an idiot would refuse. Come two and a half weeks from now I will be channeling my inner Mary Poppins, Nanny McPhee, Amelia Bedelia, Nanny Diaries' Miss Scarlett, Maria VonTrapp what have you and breathing in life from a Swiss mountain range perspective. Or something like that. In the shortest form, I am going across the pond once again to unleash the fury of my domestic self in a European household of four and I have no reservations. Timing couldn't be better. I knew there was a reason I was holding off on handing in my photography class application. Life is wild.

While I cannot seem to get enough of the slippery slope lifestyle of late (interpret that as you may because I refuse to), my fingers are crossed that my short European hiatus smoothes over some creases and delivers my fellow Winnipeg peoples gently into the Spring of things.

According to some trendsetters (mainly JJ), neon is the new black. Land ho, Spring is on the rise and I am going back to Eurotrash. Blessings and best regards of life.

Ballons de MERDE, your royal one-eyed Madgesty.