"Horsies!!" screams my two-and-two thirds year old daughter from the back seat of the Odyssey as we scream down the steep hill that leads away from our house.
I look over as we pass row upon row of grapes, getting lusher and lusher until they're harvested for this year's vintage.
And there they are by the side of the road - four magnificent brown animals, gazing at the road with intelligent unconcerned eyes.
My daughter laughs and yells "Kelowna horsies! Yayyyy!"
I look over at Rue and smile. She smiles back.
This is less than a minute from our driveway...
Since we moved from Mississauga, Ontario:
My allergies are gone
My sense of smell's come back (the kitchen smells MUCH more appetizing!)
My eyes no longer burn at the end of the day from the haze of ever-present Toronto smog
I can see stars...sorry, no, that needs emphasis. I can see STARS!
I'd forgotten how beautiful the Okanagan Valley is. Funny that it took last year's fires to put the idea into our heads to move here.
Soon Rogers is going to pull the plug on my connection so I'm gonna be quick.
The van's ready, the trailers packed and there's just a little bit left to do (not going to hand over a dirty house...well yes I am going to hand over a dirty house, but it's not going to be obviously dirty...)
I'm so tired from the allnighter that Rue and I pulled that I'm looking at the same things three or four times and still asking her very dumb questions that she's putting up with - that's my baby!
I've been assured by my moving company that someone will be out here, before 12pm to disassemble and then move our leather sofa - the last thing keeping me here in Ontario, land of the Humidex and Dalton McGuinty - dunno which makes me sweat more...
The truck came and loaded up all our stuff today...
After six months of selling the place, the pruning of the useless items accumulated in the daily droning of life and a last minute, no holds barred, throw the fucking thing in a box and tape the bastard, and we are now ready to move...aside from the fact that the couch can't fit thru the goddamn door without a professional tech from the manufacturer taking it apart first. We close tomorrow and supposedly the guy's coming before the house closes tomorrow.
A blood-curdling scream is brimming to the top of mind right now.
I'm not talking about McDonald's or Wendy's here - I'm talking about a nice, sit-down restaurant that has a take out menu.
I phoned.
I placed the order.
I went to go get the order when it was ready.
I got handed the credit card slip when I paid for my meal and the "tip" and "total" boxes were unfilled. The subtotal above "tip" was the cost of the meal and taxes. I filled out "-" for the tip and just carried the subtotal down to the total box and then signed my name.
And waited to see the reaction: a momentary glance and eyes full of judgement. If I didn't already have my food in boxes, I'm sure the hostess would've spit in it.
Why do I have to tip for takeout. Eating in is different, I'm being served, and the wait staff can determine how enjoyable my meal is going to be. The delivery guy also deserves a couple of bucks if he's bringing food to my door. What did the restaurant do for me that I have to tip when I pick up food?
Am I totally out of line here? Comments people, comments!
I've been striving very hard to be organized in setting up the move to Kelowna. I've made lists. I've checked stuff off on those lists.
A good friend of ours (Thanks Chris!) has brokered a deal on a place for us in Kelowna so we have a place to hang our hats once we hit town. We don't even have to blow any cash on a hotel upon arrival like I thought we would have to...
I even voted early to make sure that I got myself counted (not like another 18 days is going to change my mind about the upcoming election.)
And yet, I keep thinking I've missed something blatantly obvious, something big. Because of this, I've even stopped having that stupid dream about screwing up my final project for "Politics in Business" and that I'm actually 3 credits short and really don't have my degree - a regular rotating feature of my sleepy-time nightmare theatre...
Of course I've thought of everything, right? RIGHT???
I'm returning with my one-year old daughter to meet my wife and two-and-a-half year old daughter who are at the Chanel counter. Usually my beautiful older daughter has a warm greeting for me when I reappear from these little independent shopping tasks that I carry out to speed our shopping trips.
My daughter looks up, spots me and her sister approaching...
Of course at that moment everyone in the store is staring at her, and then at me. Obviously the perfume counter is no place for Daddies. I shrug and say to my wife: "Next time, you guys go alone..."
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The true Torontonian will enjoy breakfast at the market – the famous peameal bacon on a bun. Peameal bacon is a Canadian favourite – salt- and sugar-cured extra lean ham, rolled in cornmeal. It’s a signature snack of Toronto, and well worth trying out.
One of the first true "Toronto" moments when I moved here 10 years ago was 6am peameal bacon on a bun at St. Lawrence Market. Damn it was good. And I'd never seen it before in the West.
The second thing I noticed was the much higher ratio of donut shops per square mile than in the west. That I won't miss that much.
The thing that I'll not miss the most is the Ontarian's slavish devotion to the purveyors of mediocre chicken, the unimpressive Swiss Chalet, whose advertising slogan reads thus:
Life should taste as good as Swiss Chalet
which, if true, would have me ending said life with a large mallet to the skull. Our neighbours in la belle province do it much better.
But I suppose I won't know what I miss most until we actually leave Ontario...
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[Rue] on 01/24/07 11:09 : With bated breath I await your return to blogging. [go]
[Rue] on 01/24/07 11:09 : With bated breath I await your return to blogging. [go]
[Rue] on 01/24/07 11:09 : With bated breath I await your return to blogging. [go]
[Rue] on 01/24/07 11:09 : With bated breath I await your return to blogging. [go]
[Rue] on 01/24/07 11:09 : With bated breath I await your return to blogging. [go]
Gross Display of Most Naked Capitalism
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-- One of the Original Red Ensigns carried by the Penticton 1st Volunteers. It was present at Vimy Ridge when our little Dominion stood up and became a nation worth fighting for...