Life hasn't included much time for blogging recently, or anything else nonessential: I've been rushing around like the proverbial decapitated barnyard fowl, but hopefully accomplishing something more than he does in the process.

Importing my car to Canada has turned out to be a royal, and very expensive, pain. Thus far it's included hefty fees, lots of paperwork, many phone calls, rushing around to various offices and dealerships, and one large stress headache. However, the process seems to be moving along, with the federal inspection form released today. Now I just have to get the car inspected, modded to meet Canadian safety standards (which I expect to involve several more hefty fees), and then, hopefully, somewhere at the end of the process, sold for enough to make this whole sordid thing worthwhile. In theory.

It's the night of my move to Canada. I'm back in my city. I'm driving to my new house, someplace I've never seen or visited, much too late, in the dark and the rain with a car loaded full of my stuff. Somewhere out there is a house with three roommates who've promised to help me move it all in.

I'm numbly tired; up at 4 am, traveling for 13-plus hours, worn from the stress of the border crossing. The intersections slide past: Jarvis. Church. Yonge. Bay. Avenue. Spadina.

So, I'm back in the city where I lived for six years, and I am absolutely loving it. I had no idea how I'd take it, how I'd feel, before I moved, but I am so very thankful to be back.

People always used to ask me the differences between Canada and America, and I didn't know what to tell them. I'd lived in Canada for so long, and been so young when I moved, that I'd kind of forgotten what America was like. Then, when I moved back to America, I only had the shock of what was different about the States. Now that I've moved back again, I have a somewhat clearer perspective.

Yesterday was a send-off day, courtesy of my church family. Ian, my pastor, invited me up to say a few words and then to be prayed for. Afterward was a surprise goodbye party, complete with goofy t-shirts with an embarrassing photo on the front and a list of "10 things we like about Susanna" on the back. The outpouring of love was really touching, and surprising. It's funny how lonely and unnoticed you can feel, and then in moments of grace be reminded of how many people love you.

It was not only touching, but puts closure on the time I've spent here. There's something right, and satisfying, about going off with the love and support of the people you're leaving behind.

This week is finally serious packing time, with today being spent putting things away in boxes and cases and pulling out bagfuls of stuff for Goodwill. It's not like I have a lot of possessions—years of moving have kept me a transient minimalist—but there are always a few things you realize aren't worth the trouble to haul along.

I feel oddly calm and at peace, and even looking forward to the move. Who knows what lies ahead...one thing I know, or at least hope, is that it can't be worse than what lies behind, and might be better. At any rate, it'll be a new adventure. Nothing bad about that.

Today I went to Boston for what will probably be the last time during my time living here. I met my friend Gabi and we walked and talked and I gave her a lens to return to a mutual friend and she gave me some prints of her photos and we sat outside the Boston Public Library and sipped tea from an expensive cafe. I was too tired to do much more than listen to her talk. We people-watched as she chatted to me about her photography course and all that she's learning, and I realized again how much I miss living in the city.

I'm keeping this blog out of some principle or other (in theory partly to help my far-flung friends and acquaintances, should they choose, to keep up with my happenings), but I find myself tempted to give it up most of the time. Mainly because I'm not funny, don't write about the mundane happenings of my day in a compelling fashion, and when I do have something profound to say, it's usually overly serious.