Australia is burning. The American flag is being burned in Iran.
There is no adequate, virtuous-enough transition that permits me to gently guide myself into telling the goodness of my day. (So why I did not just start with a less grabbing line… Why I did I simply not count my blessings…)
10 in Vancouver, 4 in Toronto, and -3 in Winnipeg. It was bliss – warm, “literally hot,” as I told the barista at Thom Bargen, who laughed as he repeated it back to me like I laughingly repeat back things I find funny in its helpless dumbness. Oatmeal with “whole milk” again, but this time barely enough of the milk. Most mild and delicate oatmeal I’ve had in a while; couldn’t have been steel cut.
June, Gift & Thrift, Bison Books, short stint in the Air Canada building, Mom and I walking down Princess Street for a Friday lunch! We order 3 sides at Clementine’s and the waitress utters in the most neutrally unimpressed tone: “that’s it?” Yes Ma’am, that’s all, we won’t eat ourselves full anyways, although maybe water full, thank you, water! All of the potatoes, cauliflower, panna cotta were fabulous. I was hungry by 2 PM.
Back at the Forks I did nothing but sit myself down on an EQ3 chair (look at how well integrated advertising works!) and feel jolted by the rounded loudness of the conversations around me. I had visited my old supervisors at work; they, welcoming as always and I, realizing the forest green of the building was really suited for Christmas decorations, especially the 60s tint kind. Following was the light trek to the Forks, the divine smell of Tall Grass Prairie entering the market (cinnamon, bread, warmth, the right amount of favourable spices).
Canadian hitchhiking poetry, a nap, an Elizabeth Bishop poem and a Johny Cash song.
I returned home giddy with life. Did my Day 2 of 30 Days of Yoga with Adriene (and Benji). Chatted with two of my friends. Worked on a little project. Finished the little project. Starting writing this post to attempt to begin piercing the bubble of experience that has been growing since I was born, but for this case in purpose, especially since reading week in November.
Do I make it my own? Do I make it my own?
