bookmark_borderDid not think I’d hear “Easy to Tame” live in this lifetime… I was wrong.

I am not sure how rare it is, but I two of my very dear friends are married to each other. (I actually have a few friends in this boat!) I spent the weekend with them in the hinterland. Okay, not the hinterland, but there was a barn down the road from their house.

What we did:

  1. Eat, eat and eat. My dear friend A. is a fabulous cook. It was all spicy and delicious. (I packed extra stomach tablets and I used them. What’s a little pain when you are experiencing gastric bliss?)
  2. Enjoy each other’s company. Um, maybe that should go ahead of eating? We did this. It was great. We chatted, we relaxed, we played with our gadgets in the same room. B and I are both technically-minded and both enjoy quiet time in each other’s company. A. and I Facebooked (is that a verb?) to each other from different sofas. (A bit weird perhaps, but funny as hell — to us anyway.)
  3. Went to a water-park with the (super delightful) kids. Somehow I got the idea that I might be sitting under an umbrella drinking margaritas during this excursion. But no, I was in the wave pool, the jungle river thing, and the black hole — a tube ride of hellish proportions. (And it was the most darn fun I’ve had while damp in quite some time!)
  4. Went to a country fair in the middle of nowhere and drank Molson Canadian — not our beer of choice — in the beer garden. There was music. First up, a band playing rock and roll hits from our high school years. They were quite good. And the headliner? Kim Mitchell. Yeah, it was pretty muddy and yeah, we were surrounded by drunken people in 80s fashions, but it was fun. A. noted that she was the only ethnic person in attendance. I am pretty sure I was the only person of Macedonian descent there, too. B. and I rocked on. A. is — I think — not a big Kim Mitchell fan but she was at least dry in her calf-high Hunter boots. My white sneakers may not make it — will try washing them later this week. We made some friends trying to find a bank machine. Well, I did anyway. A. — I think, like any sane person –would sooner not talk to drunken fellows bemoaning the departure of their ex-wives. (For the record, I don’t know why people tell me these things. I just exchanged greetings with the guy in the beer line.)

I am home now and I miss them already. I have promised to return soon…and I will.
Thanks for the fun A. B. N. and J.!

bookmark_borderWhy do I always get asked for directions?

Why do I always get asked for directions? It happens several times a week.

Is this train going east? Is this the Sidney Smith building? How do I get to the Kensington Market? (The last question was just this afternoon — and yes, I knew where it was….just over that way a bit.)

Why do I eat eat candy when I know it makes me feel unwell every time. There is no time eating candy does not result in some type of distress. Sometimes mild, sometimes not-so mild, but always there. (I am eating Bottle Caps as I type.)

Why have I not implemented a proper filing system for all my paperwork. A box under my desk and a basket on my credenza do not count as a system. (At least it’s hidden away. My mess is secret yet intense.)

Why do I continue to exchange pleasantries with my rather chilly neighbour in the elevator. (Exchange, of course, is the wrong word as that would involve some level of reciprocity from Ms. Frosty Pants.)

Why do I read books — lots of them — that are not on my must-read list for my book clubs. (I do need to read a few within the next month, yet I put them off, despite the fact that I will probably enjoy them.)

Why is everything in my living room a shade of brownish/beige/cream. (It is soothing and I like to relax at home, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t buy some pillows that are not — well — not off-whitish. (Would blue kill me? Red?)

Well, why?