Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Capital Times

This town. No, not my town. Victoria! I can walk for miles there and still want to walk more, even when my feet are complaining. I am so excited to get there that I take the 7am ferry on Friday morning. 7am, people. This requires a heroic wake-up call of 5am, although it doesn't seem so hard to get up when it's for fun. One ferry trip and a bus ride later, and I am downtown. My pal Holly is working until the afternoon, so she gives me the keys to her place, I dump my stuff there, and walk. And walk. Window-shopping (and not buying, so hard) and taking pictures until my friend is free to join me. And then we walk some more. Beacon Hill Park, its beach, Ross Bay Cemetery (where a number of Barkerville notables are buried), back downtown... Holly is taller than me, and an even faster walker. My 5am wake-up catches up to me but still we walk, exulting over daffodils, tulips, lilies. This city has embraced spring utterly.
That night we go to the theatre (Holly works in theatre, which is how we met). We see "Winners & Losers" by Theatre Replacement, which is actually a Vancouver company. An east Vancouver company, to be exact. So there we are, shmoozing with Vancouver actors after the show, all of us over in Victoria for various reasons. Then it's off to a late-night spot for some snacks and home to the condo for prosecco, peanuts, Dire Straits and gossip about boys, love, and life.
Next day is the same, except with a later start. Walking, eating, photographs, more walking, theatre. Every so often we just grin and sigh happily. The weather is incredible, the food excellent, the company lovely. I know that Victoria is like Seattle for me in that it's an alternate-universe Vancouver: an escape from my city that's eerily like it in many ways but because I don't live there I don't take it for granted and I only see the good parts. And that's fine. We all need escapes like that. And friends to share them with.

Sunday, April 6, 2014

This is why I love my mom:

Because she's still stage-managing cool shows at the age of she'll kill me if I tell you nevermind.

Because I can place a phone call at 7:30 and say "Please come to this gig. There's no one here and I need company." And she'll be right there.

Because at the gig, when the lead singer explains that his next song is about a photo of a child in a war-torn country, crying at the ruins of her bombed-out school, my mother is irreverent enough to lean over to me and say "I think most kids would be delighted if a rocket hit their school."

Because she'll stay 'til the end of the gig and drive me and my accordion home.

I had a dream the other night, that my mom was dead and a lawyer and I were dividing her property, which in the dream amounted to (I kid you not) a box of chocolates. So I was saying to the lawyer "Well I think basically we should divide up the chocolates so that everyone gets a little bit of everything: nuts, cream centres..." And then in the dream I realized that she was truly dead and my heart cracked open.

So here's to a long life ahead for my mom, who plays by her own rules, drives me nuts (and cream centres too), and is always, always there for me when I need her. I don't know what I'll do when she's not.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Food Fail. (Warning: this post is all about vomit!)

Ok, so I'm no great chef. I love food, but I'm not the sort of person who spends hours in the kitchen, slaving over a hot stove in order to nourish my friends. "Family dinners"up north in the summer- usually a roast chicken and some veggies or some other easily-ignored dish- are about the extent of it.
But you know, I usually think that I'm an acceptable cook.
Until I poison myself.

Luckily so far I have been the only victim. I have had some questionable dates, but I've never actually made anyone projectile vomit. As far as I know. This time I came home last night after a shift at the music school, cooked myself a healthy little meal, and... a couple of hours later I was pinned unhappily to the couch, watching the time get later and later, feeling the nausea building and building.

Well, we all know what happens when you get food poisoning. Something a lot like... this scene from "Team America: World Police", that's what. Good times.

The thing is, my body seems to feel that it's SO important to Get The Toxins Out RIGHT FREAKIN' NOW that I will literally throw up so hard that I black out. Which means that I get hurt. Today I have a very tender spot on my back from collapsing on the tiles at one point, my right knee is sore, and I have a small bump on my forehead from when I pitched off the toilet and came to face-down on the bathroom floor.
As I said, good times.

So what have we learned, boys and girls? Maybe... Don't buy the lamb patties from Buy-Low Foods. And if you do, cook them all the way through.