After work I meet up with Cathy and Elaine who are back in town for a mom/daughter date to see Coldplay at the ACC. We have dinner at Against the Grain and after we come across one of the 41 Pianos at Sugar Beach. Elaine tickles the ivories. She shouldn't quit her day job.
Coffee in bed. Meeting up with Cathy and Stan for brunch. Rain not happening. Bike ride. Jazz fest.
Coming home this evening, I see a girl who looks strikingly like I did 35 years ago. It's like seeing a ghost.
Pleasantly tired is how Ceri describes himself at the end of today. I concur.
A Sunday turned out free for Cathy and Stan and Carly so we planned brunch in the city. Carly hooked up with Cathy and Stan at Union Station and then they all met Ceri and me at our favourite brunch place near Sugar Beach.
It's gorgeous and sunny – the first real spring day. A stroke of luck for our family-hanging-about-date, and damn we're all in need of some warm sunshine. It hasn't been a bad winter, but a dreary one. We need sun. I needed some sun bad.
I'm sure we were the only ones in the restaurant who were so taken with the sight of the ship being towed by a tug (and followed by another) across our southerly view as we ate. Might be because we're partial to a coupla' sailors. As we left the restaurant, we see the tugs maneuvering the ship into the slip at the sugar factory.
We take a walk through the Distillery District. Cathy buys Elaine some macaroons at the bakery there. I take pictures of [more] windows. There is a lineup at the Mill St. Brew Pub, so we wander back toward the Market neighbourhood and find a table at the Jason George. We enjoy beers and sunshine and each others' company, laughing a lot. The sun might have had something to do with that, but mostly it was the company.
Last weekend was delicious. The days were a blessing; crisp and sunny, the kind of autumn days you need to be out in because you know that with every weekend that passes, these kinds of days are less likely to occur for… well you don’t want to think about how many months.
And it was more than that.
It started with spontaneous “beer o’clock” on Friday with family, then moved into a weekend that was about wandering around, changing minds, making diversions, sharing meals, turning your face to the sun and letting it slide its arms around your shoulders against the cool air, exploring neighbourhoods, watching diamonds floating on the lake, taking pictures of freighters, long kisses, longer conversations, sharing old pictures, beholding skylines, sleeping in, drinking cesars with big breakfasts, standing on the street corner deciding which way to walk home and then a crying like an idiot in the middle of a busy station as you collect your long-away sister.
That weekend – lets not bother to quantify the beauty. Lets call it all beautiful thing number seventy-two.
Walking down to Sugar Beach today we came upon these tiny mushrooms. Aren't they the loveliest things? Don't you just want to escape into this tiny netherworld? I do. But then I'm inclined to think the faery world isn't affected by concerns like politics, angry drivers with horns, deadlines, retirement savings plans and fluffy pop stars.
But who knows? I could be wrong. I haven't escaped into that netherworld.
Tiny mushroom netherworld – beautiful thing number fifty-three.