And this week in the front yard...

There are wonderful perks about living in a city core. I don't live in a huge city; smaller than Toronto but certainly much bigger than the small town of Woodstock I grew up in. I frequently comment to friends how lucky I feel to be able to park my car on a Friday night, and if I want, not have to start it up again over the course of the weekend because everything I could possibly want is within walking distance.

I've got a wonderful variety of restaurants, arts centres, grocery stores and I'm pretty sure I've mentioned Lake Ontario is in my front yard. Not too shabby.

Also in my front yard is a large community park and usually on weekends during the summer it is filled with festivals of all kinds... Music, arts, kids, crafts. There is something new to be found every Sunday as I stroll across for my visit to the lake. This weekend is "Canada's Largest RibFest."

Carnivores everywhere are salivating in jealousy. And of course we are grateful the event has never been protested by PETA. At this, like most of the festival offerings, there are musical acts scattered throughout the day and that coupled with the consistent drone of increased traffic, crowds, horns and vendors calling out about their wares means the next three days will be filled from 10:00 am to 11:00 pm with white noise. What it will also be filled with is the smell of ribs.

I love ribs as much as the next carnivore but trust me, after smelling them consistently for three days straight even the most die-hard rib addict may have had enough. I will have my one and only rib dinner on Sunday but the smell will make everything I eat this weekend have a "meat finish" to the flavour.

Next week, I shall be vegetarian. But only for a week.

Six Months and Counting

I love music.  Most kinds of music really except that crazy kind of jazz that sounds like everyone in the band is playing a different song.  Now before you start hating on me for hating on jazz, I know it's incredibly complex and takes remarkable talent to play that kind of jazz.  I get it.  But it hurts my ears.

Anyway, I have always had music around in one way or another.  I used to lay awake at night growing up listening to the local radio station CKDK hoping that maybe the next song would be a good one.  Maybe.  And that's why I spent my youth falling asleep in a state of frustration.

I played music loudly in my room and sang unabashedly as if performing before the most grateful stadium audience, cheering wildly.  And I attempted to learn the guitar.  Less successfully as a teen (but that was the instructor's fault... What 15 year old in 1978 wanted to play Bobby Vinton songs???) and slightly more so now as an adult.  I know that musical talent is not a gift I possess but I don't enjoy it any less because of it.

So it was with a great sense of glee that I found out (via text from my Youngest) that my latest favourite band was coming to a very nearby, small venue to play in the summer.  Yes, Mumford & Sons is playing Simcoe, Ontario.

I'll wait here while you Google Simcoe, Ontario.




Small, huh?  Wouldn't that be a great show?  Fantastic band and true grassroots venue; I was thrilled.  Until I logged in to purchase my tickets and found it was sold out within 30 minutes. 

And disappointment ensues.

But wait... This is a tour... There has to be other stops nearby, right?  So off I go a searching and lo and behold, Troy.  Ohio. 

I'll wait here while you Google Troy, Ohio like I did.  Small, grassroots venue.  SOLD!  I can picture myself now, regardless of weather, dancing and singing with the rest of the crowd to songs that have brought strangers together and made them instant friends.  It is an amazing thing to stand in the midst of former strangers sharing something you all know and love so completely.  I can't imagine ever getting tired of that.

Now, here's the kicker.  Two tickets.  Bold for a single gal, no?  The way I look at it.  I have six months to find a date.

Hey, it could happen.

Hey You!

Dear future Love:

So, how are you doing tonight?  It's that classic day that is universally recognized for love.  We, of course, are not there yet but that's ok.  I'm fine to wait, I'm a patient gal.

A few things to keep in mind for later, if you don't mind me saying.

Preferably red but white is nice in the summer.  Beer when we're playing pool or around the pool, at the game or at the pub.

No horror, slasher, nightmare inducing movies please.  Not big on sci-fi either so sorry, the Star Trek marathon is definitely a guy's night thing.  I'm out.  Just about everything else is good.

Not big on punk, heavy metal, hard-core jazz (how's that for an oxymoron?).  There will be dancing. 

And I'll sing all the time; sometimes very badly, often with the wrong words but it will be a good show. 

I will sleep in every chance I get. Of course, at this stage of the game, that usually means 9:30 so really, that's not too much of a big deal.  Oh, and I arbitrarily switch sides of the bed.  Not really sure where that came from but it's a thing.

I love cooking so you don't need to do much in that department but don't leave me in the kitchen alone... Hang out, have a chat, refill the glasses.  That's all I need to be a happy gal.

Roses are overrated.  Peonies, lilacs, tulips, hydrangeas... Now those are flowers.

You look great... Remind me I do as well once in a while please.  I promise to do the same.

Make me laugh... More than anything, even if you forget everything else make me laugh. 

So, if you don't mind, get on with the introductions would you?  Or declarations. Or advances.  I'll take it from there (oops; sort of blew my "patient gal" cover, didn't I?).