my kind of christmas

Josh picked me up outside my apartment in his police model sedan.

"Are you practicing to be a Zeyde already? You are only 36, correct?"

But really, I am 33 and have never owned a car, so who am I to judge?

He greeted me with a kiss. I proudly handed him a birthday card with the message written in Hebrew. I didn't know I still had it in me, but the hebrew cursive just flowed. My hebrew school teacher would have been even more impressed than Josh was.

We drove down a deserted Yonge Street, the line that runs from the north suburbs, south to the downtown core, dividing the city in half. He lit a cigarette.

"Seriously? You are going to do this to me again?"

He laughed.

"Is it really funny to smoke cigarettes in a confined space with an ex-smoker?"

"The window is open."

"Still, I am inhaling smoke. You realize your killing me." I stuck my head out the window like a golden retriever, only not to feel the wind in my...fur.

He was not impressed.

We arrived at the theatre to see Kite Runner. I treated us to VIP tickets, which turned out to be not nearly as cool as I expected, attracting mostly the octogenarian set. It was a small theatre and the heat was on too high. Partway through the film I left to go to the washroom. When I came back I realized how stuffy the room was, smelling of an odd combination of drakar noir and farts. And yet the movie made it all worthwile.

For dinner we went to Chinatown and ate Vietnemese pho, which reminded me of the days when we used to go to chinatown after the bars closed. It would be 3 AM and we would order, "cold tea" and eat entire drunken meals. I wonder if they still serve cold tea anywhere. These days I'm lucky if Josh will leave the suburbs let alone stay out late. Tonight we had ordinary hot tea and I ordered rare beef pho with tons of chili sauce. It was delicious as always.

Now I'm home and packing for London. The Queen [but mainly my sister] is awaiting my arrival. Cheerio.

Happy Christmas as they say in England. Happy New Year too. May the new year bring us all much happiness.

eye to eye

It always amazes me how people can see things so differently. Most of the time I am thankful for it. This world would be boring and even more competitive if we all liked the same things.

I've been to see a few movies lately, two of which were excellent and two of which were bad. So bad.

Interestingly, the common denominator in all four is that they were well received by reviewers. I just don't get it.

Excellent:

(1) No Country for Old Men
(2) Juno

Terrible:

(1) Lars and the Real Doll
(2) I'm Not Here [the Bob Dylan movie]

No Country for Old Men was fucking scary. The desert backdrop was unbelievable and the silence was a powerful tool to create tension. The bad guy was so scary I still cannot get him [or his weapon] out of my head.

Juno was 'Superbad"-funny, but with heart, and best of all it was not predictable in the way that so many movies are.

Lars and the Real Doll was a waste of my time. Harry spent two hours throwing popcorn at me. I have a high threshold for slow movies. I have what you might call movie-patience. I am known to reserve judgment until the end, always in the hopes that a movie will bring it together or redeem itself in some way. Lars and the Real Doll was a challenge, and inevitably a disappointment.

I'm Not Here was just trying too hard. Most of the acting was mediocre. More than that, I found the characters blatantly annoying. I didn't even think Cate Blanchett did such a great job. It was just eh.

'they' can piss off

Patting myself on the stomach, I wonder how long it will take me to undo the damage I've inflicted on myself. In line with my decision to cut myself a little slack lately, I refrain from thinking too hard on it.

I have added chocolate and too many refined carbs back into my life. I feel obliged to mention my addiction to lasagna. I have even occasionally replaced my morning yogurt and blueberries with a muffin [gasp].

If you eat a muffin you might as well be eating cake, they say. "They".

Fine then. So I've been eating cake. And I haven't been spending much time at the gym. My foot is much better, and I can ride the stationary bike no problem, but I just do not love it like I love other things.

I spent the summer and the fall running outside, down maple-lined streets and ravine trails, and playing tennis on any public court we could find. In the past I have turned to spinning in the winter and have been a big fan, but I have not been ready to go back this year. I feel too delicate somehow for the loud music and the instructor yelling into his microphone. I do not crave that kind of motivation.

I guess I fell in love with being outside this year and I have yet to come to terms with the winter. I can still see the freckles on my shoulders if I look close enough.

Now being outside, trudging through the December snow, the cold is almost painful. I want to grow a love for that too, but I can not quite find the right angle. I never have. Even my rasta-hat that I bought back in August [which Harry calls my babushka] is not enough. Close though. Good intentions. So help me I'm trying.

Soon I will be away, out of my element [and 'the elements', hopefully]. For now I permit myself to take it easy. Maybe today I will go to yoga.

I can see something on the horizon. Can not yet make out what it is.

i've got moves you've never seen

I recently discovered something on the interweb that could pull anyone out of a funk. Better than prozac.

Everyone is doing it.

You can too.

PS: Seriously? The kid in the front row in the ballet class? He deserves some kind of award for enthusiasm.

PPS: Bonus points for anyone who knows where the title of this post came from without googling.

belle ville

I sink deeper, until the water is just millimetres from grazing the phone.

"How do you spell his last name?", Lana asks.

"Colville. C-O-L-V-I-L-L-E. Like Belleville."

I can hear her typing on the other end. I sink a hair deeper.

"Lana....I'm sinking....", I say in a faraway voice. "In case you don't hear from me again, thanks for being such a great friend."

"Are you in the tub?"

"Uhuh". I slide back up a little. I feel like I'm seven.

Silence on the other end and then after a little while she let's me know she's still looking.

"Luke", I say in deep voice. "I am your father."

She ignores me.

Like every time I get in the tub, after only minutes I'm antsy. The water line tickles my forearms. I cradle the phone in my neck to scratch.

"Alright. Sounds like you're not finding anything."

"Yeah, nothing."

"Ok, gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow."

I put the phone down on the toilet seat cover and I sink under the hot water, my long hair circling like sea grass.

one last game

I just logged on to blogger and noticed I've had 666 posts. The number of the beast. I also missed my three year blogging anniversary, which was the other day. I love this blog. I love having a space to put myself and the opportunity to share with people now and then. Thanks for reading!

It's Saturday night, and I made plans with a friend of mine to go to a movie. I tried to call her this afternoon, but there was no answer on her cell, home, or her blackberry. I hope nothing bad happened, but if nothing bad happened, I'm going to be pissed. I turned down other plans and now I am sitting at home watching Bones. Ok, I'll be honest. I like sitting at home. More than I should.

I ordered pizza and ate too much and now I'm eating chocolate chips. I feel sick, I've eaten so many, yet I continue. I have my annual physical this week, which means getting weighed. I haven't been running for over a month because of my foot, so you would think I would try not to add any more last minute pounds on.

At least my foot can tolerate the bike, so that's what I've been doing. This morning I met Harry at the gym and then we spent the afternoon together. We played pool, and he was totally kicking my ass. It got so bad I swear I almost broke the cue over my own head. Then I tried a little reverse psychology. I proposed one last game.

"The winner of this game will be the queen of all pool", I suggested.

It's really win-win for me. Either I win and nullify all of my previous losses or Harry wins and I can call him the "Queen of all pool".

He said yes, but then I upped the ante, because my plan was to make it seem subtly deliberate. You see, since he had never played with me before, if I managed to win the game, he might think I'm a pool shark, which is better than thinking I suck. All of the previous losses would have been strategic rather than a result of a lack of skill.

"Hey, why don't we make this one a little more interesting and put some money on it?"

"Ok. Sure", he laughed. "How about whoever wins pays for the pool?"

"Aiht".

Truth be told I hate spending my money losing a bet, but I sucked it up in case I got lucky.

The game began. He broke, and right away he pocketed a couple of low-balls, but then I came back [or rather he started to miss and I managed to steadily sink my balls until I had only one left on the table besides the eight ball].

The whole time I had a calm about me. I somehow knew I was going to win, even though he came back again at the end. When I sank the eight ball, I came close to scratching and so my only regret was that I squeeled, "don't go in, don't go in, don't go in!!!". That sort of took away from the overall objective of looking cool.

When I regained my composure I turned to him. "You've been sharked by Gold". I strutted to the rack to put away my cue.

"Yeah. You got me", he said, his expression flat. "You deserve an Academy Award. You really had me fooled. You were so incredibly convincing as a terrible pool player. You're a regular Jack Nicholson of pool."

The waitress came up to the table.

"Is everything ok over here?"

"Yeah. I kicked his ass", I answered.

After Harry payed the tab we walked out into the cold and he turned to me.

"Remind me to play competitive sports with you again real soon, okay?"

"Good game", I said, offering him my hand.

the danger of dishes

Before I forget, I should let you in on something I discovered this morning. If, like me, you do not have a dishwasher and you wash your dishes by hand in scalding hot water, I do not recommend washing dishes naked. I've had to learn this the hard way on more than one occasion.

My intention this November was to write more often, NoBloMo (or whatever it's called)-style. I had no intention of making it official, but I wanted to use it as an excuse to write more.

And so there you have it. I didn't say I would write better. Just more.

things I need to keep

I have not needed you like I did
But there were times
When pretending you were next to me
Was the only way I could fall asleep.
I hate that it is one of the few things I have never told you.
But there are some things I need to keep for myself.

Sitting across from you I focus in on your socks
Or your hands
The way you run your index finger
Along the inside of your thumb.
Your expression
When you stumble onto something good
Or I have captivated you.
Made you laugh.

I know you better than I should
And often when I am with you
I am aware of my heart.
Not in the sappy way
But rather
Anatomically.
Where it sits in my chest.
Clumsily clenching and releasing.
Relentless
[I hope].
Precarious
[to be sure].

And here I lie
Like the princess and the pea.
My specialty.
Not pain, exactly.

buying the killers

I spent the morning cleaning, my afternoon at the gym, came home with my toes painted Malagra Wine red, and stocked the fridge with Stella, only to find out that the guy who has yet to be named even though he's been around long enough that he probably should be, called and canceled. He was supposed to come over for dinner and a movie but he has a bad case of the "shanghai flu" [aka a hang over].

I work a long day at the hospital tomorrow, so on the bright side I will be well rested...as well rested as you can be when you have to be up at 5 AM. And I have a sparkling clean apartment.

Speaking of the bright side, The Killers new cd is great. Just got it today. Me likey.

how getting a rim job can pay off

A friend of mine works for RIM, the makers of the blackberry. Last night they had a surprise concert for all of their employees. Each was invited to bring a guest. Lucky me, I was a +1. Turned out to be the Tragically Hip [one of my all time favourite bands] and Van Halen! What a great show.

The only weird thing was that usually when you go see a show the audience is made up of fans. There were definitely pockets of fans among the 15,000 people in attendance [lucky for me the biggest VH fan who was borderline belligerently drunk and who knew every word to every song, was sitting on my right], but there were clearly a lot of people in addition to myself, who didn't know anything beyond 'Panama' and 'Jump'.

The Hip really don't need flashy lights and props so their lack of stage presence didn't bother me. I got the feeling Gord Downey wasn't so happy to be playing to that crowd, and who could really blame him, but I loved seeing them and hearing them in person. I will always be a fan.

In contrast, the VH production was as polished as a U2 concert and they sounded just like they always have. They were a little heavy on the solos, but that's the genre I guess. David Lee Roth was kind of sexy with his high kicks and his leather pants. Also, I should mention, I love drinking beer out of the Air Canada Centre sippy cups, just like when you go see the Raps. I don't even like beer and I love the way it tastes in those cups.

It was so much fun. All I could think was, ‘how cool is this’, and ‘I have never seen so many glowing blackberries in one audience in my life. The ACC was lit up like a planetarium.

skin on

I left work early today. It's so grey and damp outside. On the way home I did errands, wandering the aisles of the grocery store, list in hand.

Apples
Bananas
Yogurt
Milk
Lentils
Blueberries
Peppers
Chevre
Salt

I love a good grocery list. I stifled yawns, maneuvering my cart around other customers. I wasn't in the mood to browse this afternoon. Often I am. I'll walk up and down every single aisle, lose myself in the groceries. I found a sale on bags of yellow, orange and red peppers, 4 for $1.99, so I bought two bags. It's the little things that make me happy and inspire me.

I make my own version of Israeli salad using anything I feel like using, as opposed to just tomato and cucumber. The trick is to dice it as small as humanly possible, which tastes so much better for some reason. I do it in either a fresh lemon and olive oil or a balsamic vinaigrette.

Today when I got home I made the salad with lentils, the multi-colored peppers, english cucumber [skin on], tomatoes, julienne of carrots, and hearts of palm. It is truly beautiful.

Friday night I went out with this guy again. We've been out a number of times over the last several weeks. Sometimes we have a good time together and sometimes it's just ok. Before I left I had a feeling that it was going to be our last date and I was ok with that. The last couple of times we've gone out I've left feeling unsure. I talked myself out of cancelling altogether because I'd had a really long week and I was in the mood to go somewhere and have a couple of drinks.

On the way to the restaurant I witnessed a terrible thing. A man in his thirties had apparently fallen down the subway stairs. He looked like he had been shot in the head. The whole side of his head was a mess. It wasn't just blood. I could see tissue. One man near me on the subway grabbed his son to cover his face.

The paramedics were already on the scene. The man who fell was conscious, but it looked really bad. In my line of work, I've seen things that could make just about anyone squirm, but this one really bothered me. I almost turned around and went home.

I was still shaken up when I got to the restaurant. We met at an asian-indian fushion restaurant I had been wanting to try. I don't even think I looked around the place when I got there. I was flustered. I told him the story while I scanned the drink menu. I just knew it had to be a sign that things weren't going to go well.

But I guess nothing is ever predictable when it comes to this kind of thing. Maybe it was that the pressure was off but by about midway through dinner I realized how much fun I was having. The night sort of came together into a haze of red wine and music and crowds of people.

Sort of like how my upcoming trip is saving me, I so needed that kind of a night.