G20

There is definelty an increased police presence in the city right now as a result of the G20. For example, I rode the streetcar with 8 RCMP officers recently. I went out for pizza last night and passed at least 25 officers. I have noticed that I cannot help but stare at them, I am just not accustomed to that many RCMP, OPP and Toronto Police in one place. Luckily for me all the officers I have run into are exceptionally nice, over and over again I have been caught gawking at them, and every single time, they smile warmly, nod and say hello. I know this may not end up being the case during the actual G20 when they will be under extreme pressure, but I must admit, I love living in a country where are police are friendly.

Ballerinas

My old dance school recently held their annual dance recital. Since my mom still organizes the entire backstage, I spent a weekend backstage helping out. As usual it was a whole lot of fun, you haven't seen happy until you have seen a three year old ballerina in her first powder pink tutu.

In comparison to years before I felt unusually useless this year. Mom pointed out that that was a good thing, it meant things were running smoothly, which I had to admit was true. So in lieu of any heroic stories about myself (and that's why you're here right? for the heroics I regale you with so constantly) I bring you the two cutest moments of the whole weekend.

During the younger show (3-7 year old) one of the numbers was danced to "This little light of mine" . While that number was dancing I was hanging out backstage with a group of five year old jazz dancers. Very quietly, very much just to herself, one of the little girls started to sing along to the song. Eventually two or three other girls started to sing it too; a trio of soft voices singing "let it shine, let it shine, let it shine". A moment that if required, would have made my heart grow three sizes.

The members of one four year old dance group had each been given a number, so that way they would remember their order. The issue came up though that while most knew their number they did not neceesarily know which numbers were supposed to be next to them. I was helping sort out this problem, when I asked a quiet girl what her number was, I knelt down while she raised up on her tip toes to whisper in my ear; "I'm the one with two ones", I introduced her to her friend 12.

Party, Gucamole, Apology to Mom

Last night (and technically this morning) was the first time I partied until, literally, the break of dawn. It was a fencing party that, smartly, refused to end. So much so that when the original party broke up, we went off to our coach's condo. And kept drinking. Well others kept drinking, I had a glass of red wine nearby to defer the question "Can I get you another?". Eventually they noticed that my glass never got less full, but the great part about drunk people is that you can easily distract them and they forget they are asking why you are not drinking.

I made guacamole for the first time last night! It was delicious. I always love learning to make a new dish. It feels good to expand a cooking repertoire, like having a new skill on hand just in case. Except with cooking, the skills are tasty. And guacamole is the kind of thing welcome at any party. I feel though that I have done avocados a huge disservice. Do you know all the things you can put them in? So much deliciousness.

I wonder sometimes if my Mom gets frustrated with my eating habits now. I try new things, I eat things that used to make me turn pale when I even looked at them. I am sure she is happy that I am branching out and enjoying different kinds of foods. But at the same time I think she may look back on all the family dinners she lovingly prepared (after getting us up in the morning, working all day and before taking us to our after school activities) which I dramatically gagged during (peas people! come on!) . All the times she had to hunt through things at potluck meals to see if there was anything I would eat (I still don't like cold cut sandwiches). And the number of times she had to say; "I'm sorry we can't go out for Chinese food; Christine distrusts the whole cuisine", or how she had to explain to the local bagel shop that I wanted a plain bagel with butter, but, heaven forbid, don't toast it, because that would end my world. So I apologize Mom, for my picky eating, but I would like the record to show, that peas are still gross.

I think I am in for a lazy day today, I saw both sides of six am yesterday so I think napping will ensue.

Parade

I was in an office building today that has a large bank of windows that overlooks a busy intersection in the city. I was eating an apple and watching the world go by when I noticed that there were five cyclists riding side by side by side, taking up the entire two lanes for east bound traffic. Then I noticed that it was not just five cyclists but a whole stream of them (if they were a bunch of peacocks I would have called them a 'muster' of peacocks, but they were not). They occupied all of the east bound lanes for over two blocks. The group of them entered the intersection and proceeded to turn left. It was quickly apparent that they were not all going to make it before the light turned red. When the light turned yellow a cyclist in a hat, that could only be called 'jaunty', stopped in the middle of the intersection, pulled out a trumpet, and then serenade the street. A man with bongos joined in, and either all the cyclists were ringing their bells, or someone had wind chimes. The trumpet was soon joined by a chorus of honks (I don't think all, or most, in support of their impromptu cycle parade) from the cars waiting at the intersection. But despite the honking, everyone waited (some in amusement and some probably just unwilling to commit vehicular manslaughter) until the bikes had all gone through.

I do not know where they came from, where they were headed too (they quickly made another turn at the next intersection, thereby leaving my view), why they were riding in fleet style, or even what key the trumpet was playing in. But it brightened my day.

An ode.

The books I am going to read live on the shelf behind my bed. They are lined up neatly awaiting their turn. The books I am going to read live on a side table next to the shelf because the shelf got to0 full. The books I am going to read live in boxes under my bed, because the church book sales I attend mean that the side table does not provide enough space. The books I am going to read live on shelves in the home I keep at my parent's house, because my tiny apartment does not provide enough room. The books I am going to read live at the library, on a hold list that my additions keep infinite. The books I am going to read live in your apartment, on your shelves, because when I come over, I will borrow one. The books I am going to read live on the front tables of chain book stores, where all the popular fiction resides. The books I am going to read live in the back corner, top left shelf of the used book store around the corner. The books I am going to read live on best seller lists, Oprah's book club list, and the unscientific, unofficial, almost entirley inaccurate list (kept by me) of What People Are Reading Next to Me on The Subway. The books I am going to read live, grow, self propogate pretty much everywhere. For this I am grateful.

It would rain

Despite the lack of rain for the past few days I recently expereienced a sense memory:

At my home-home (not to be confused with my Toronto-home) on summer afternoons the feeling of coming rain would creep in through the open windows and fill the air in the entire house. It was the feeling of a release, a letting up of pressure you had been previously unaware was there. Shortly after this the rain would start, softly at first then becoming more urgent. Mom, from the garden usually, would call out instructions to close all the windows. Every window in every room would then be closed, by whoever was home. If we were too slow, or the waer came too quickly, rain would splash through the window screens, pooling on the sills. The tiles in front of the screen door would frequently fall victim, for some reason the sliding glass door was always the last to be shut. Sometimes this is what the word summer means to me.

WE WON!!!!

Our floor hockey team won! We have never actually done that before. And this time we won, and we did so by scoring more goals than the other team, not via the other team forfeiting. While I did not score any goals I was all up in there doing important floor hockey things. I think I may even be getting better, my sports skills are improving, I am very good at getting in other people's way. Surely this win will lead to an avalanche of unending, uninterrupted winning.

New!

I finally acquired myself a new laptop. I have been living out of Daley's Mac since before Christmas. It has been a wonderful Mac. And I am sure Daley misses it, which is why I got around to buying a new laptop. It's very pretty, and filled with Windows 7 which I am still getting used too. Things keep popping up, but they make pretty sounds when they do so, so I am going to allow it.

I will even be able to upload photos! Which means maybe New York pictures! All 8 of the ones I took!

New York!

I spent the weekend in New York! And I sucesfully flew there and back alone, without any horrible incidents! And my luggage showed up!

While in New York I got to visit the Strand. A bookstore that is apparently 18 miles of books. Three floors of floor to ceiling, every surface covered, books. I was very very happy. And I saw Times Square and Grand Central Station and many tall iconic buildings that I cannot remember the name of. And I had Soup Dumplings! Dumplings that have soup in them! Hard to eat? Yes. Delicious? YES!

And I got to eat at the restaurtant that the New York Times had just declared as having the Best Pizza in New York: Motorino. The wait was over an hour and a half (luckly you can leave your name and then come back after drinking tea at a cafe) but it was worth it. So delicious.

I got to go shopping in SoHo and I found out where Jay Z got his name. I also went to the MoMA which was featuring an exhibit of Tim Burton's work. The exhibit was high on my list of favourite things about the New York Visit (best pizza and huge bookstore obviously ranking pretty highly) it was a fantastic look into how hard Tim Burton works on all of his projects. Rather inspiring.

But now? Now I sleep.

I don't fly enough

I fly out in a couple of days to New York! And I have started the process of freaking out about it. I am trying to find out what carry on I am allowed. From my readings it seems I am allowed one bag and a purse. I wonder if my back pack would be one bag. Oh I panic easily.