The mister and I returned to Vancouver over the weekend. We've spent the last six weeks working our little knuckles off in a town that time forgot, Gold River, BC (it deserves a post of its own, believe me). No cell phone reception, patchy internet, but impeccable snowmelt for tap water. And believe it or not, we actually saw children playing outside.

Seven days later, we're beating up the pavement in search of a new apartment. In that time we've waited for showings in line-ups of frantically weary house-hunters. We've filled out six-page applications. We've been pre-empted by high bidders. We've met landlords who've installed timers in bathrooms to limit showers to five minutes. We've seen rents climb $300 between the ad and the showing. We've read Craigslist ads featuring this phrase: NDP members only. Seen $1300 apartments with 40-year-old carpet and aluminum foil on the windows. Witnessed aquatic moss in toilet bowls. We now know the meaning of "Olympic fever."

What puts us back together again at the end of the day is the lovely, inspiring space of author wonder-couple Nancy Lee and John Vigna--who have graciously lent us their home while they're away at the Iowa Writers' Workshop. Their living room reminds me of a Richard Burton quote Ma G likes to offer every time I'm in-between: "Home is where the books are."