I didn't quite make it.
But I did sleep until about 3, which is an unbelievable stretch of sleep for me.
In a fit of good will, I let Jason sleep on without me.
Until 5:30.
At which time I woke him up with breakfast in bed, which softens the blow. Not that the blow needs much softening after 11 hours of sleep. Fucker.
We were out of the house bright and early and headed for the Phyllis Rawlinson Park in Richmond Hill. We took the scenic route, accidentally, but being up before the sun means you have lots of time for mistakes. Unfortunately, we found the park.
The park can kiss my ass. I mean, if your idea of an outdoorsy day includes about 5 minutes of walking and 3 minutes of goose watching before you head back to your car, then by all means, make a date with Phyllis. I, however, was not impressed. We traipsed about through the 'boardwalk' (note: a couple of planks strewn about does not a boardwalk make), and the 'celebration forest' (note: it was neither worth celebrating, nor a forest), the only nature we managed to commune with was the mud that Jason somehow kicked up onto his brand new white hoodie. What kind of ass wears a brand new white hoodie to walk in the woods?
Jason, that's who (note: this is not a gratuitous butt shot, because it illustrates my point - my, what an ass).So with time to kill and energy still burning in our legs, we took the opportunity to get lost in Richmond (as if we had the choice) and serendipitously found Richmond Green, a lovely park sandwiched between two very busy streets. So with the romantic sounds of 80 km/hr traffic serenading us, we took the time to play.
Though the bugs were humongous, we contracted very little in the way of West Nile, rest assured.
On our way back to Scarborough, we discovered just how far we'd gone astray - about $70 in gas astray. Yikes.
Not to worry, we thought, drinks with Paul will make all of our troubles disappear.
We thought wrong.
Not that the drinks didn't work. They did. But we didn't have them with Paul. Paul stood us up (confidential to Paul: fuck you).
So we spent the afternoon touring Toronto's greatest thrift stores. Though we rarely buy anything, I like to look. I like to look at all the crap that people have so "generously" donated - like, for example, the t-shirts that say To The World's Greatest Dad! Ahem. I beg to differ. I think the world's greatest dad would not throw away precious childhood gifts. This so-called world's greatest dad was probably all like "Kids, this was a crappy gift. What daddy really wanted was a new set of golf clubs and a bottle of Jimmy Beam. "
Another great t-shirt was one for Shirley's Baby Shower. Now, I can understand getting rid of this piece of crap. As if you'd ever wear that again...chances are, you weren't thrilled to be at the stupid shower in the first place, let alone being made to wear itchy bargain-basement imitation cotton. That's fine. But please, tear it up into rags, use it up, wear it down, THROW IT OUT. Do not for one second think that someone wants to buy this crap. Even poor people don't deserve a Shirley's Baby Shower t-shirt! Note to salvation army: even at the low, low price of $3.99, I don't think this merchandise is going to be a prime mover.
Anyway, after a day spent in fine weather, I was thirsty. In fact, I was craving my yummarrific Summer Cocktail, the exquisite taste of which I dream about all winter long. I always assumed the recipe for this cocktail would die with me, but just this once, I'm going to share it here, between friends. Take copious notes. This blog will self-destruct in 14 days.
Jamie's Summer Cocktail:
1. Drive or walk to the closest 7-11.
2. Buy a 40 oz Slurpee in your favourite flavour.
3. On the way home, use ridiculously large straw to sip drink (by the time you reach home, you should have emptied nearly 10% of Slurpee).
4. Use vodka to refill Slurpee to 100% capacity. Stir with ridiculously large straw.
5. Enjoy.
Hits the spot. My cocktail is guaranteed to become this summer's rage - so classy that the umpteen weddings I'm required to go to will surely be serving during that annoying lull between the photos but before the receiving line. It's that good. Not even the trite email from Paul excusing his absence could affect me under the influence of this cocktail (confidential to Paul: nature doesn't have the internet, dumbass).
Now what with the early start time, and the excessive busy-ness, and the alcohol consumption, I was bushed. Barely made it past dinner time. Was in bed shortly after 8.
Woke up the next day raring to go, at 4:30 in the morning.
Went to the 24-hour grocery store to lay in supplies for a picnic lunch.
Spent the morning exploring Toogood Pond in Unionville. After the disappointing bitch Phyllis, we were pleasantly surprised by Toogood. There were some really amazing ecosystems to admire, and an astonishing amount of wildlife to consider. There were kilometres and kilometres of trails to walk, and Jason had to sustain himself with moon pies several times.
Luckily, my stomach was a little emptier, or else I never could have handled the obscene graffiti that we found sadly marring the park.
Oh wait. Did I say obscene? Because I meant lame. Totally lame (note to petty criminals: get a job, you lazy bums). But seriously, this was an awesome park and we were glad to see other people taking advantage of the fine weather. When we grew tired of the pedestrian circuit, we went "off-roading" into the woods. I managed to shame Jason into crossing a river on a fallen tree with one simple sentence "The Jason I knew 5 years ago would have done it." Actually, the Jason I knew 5 years ago had way more sense than that, and he never would have fallen for that trick. Man I love this kid. So easy to screw around with his head.
We mucked around like nobody's business, managing not to fall down the steep cliffs into the very cold water, though it was tempting. I would have been happy to muck about all day long, had it not been for one small thing.
Snake!!! Jason found it highly entertaining that by the time my stupid brain registered that a snake was slithering over my boot, I already had 2 feet solidly in the air, and was making a Ho!Ho!Ho! noise that he had never heard before (note to self: stop screaming like Santa Claus).
So we trekked back to the car, and I, still shaken from the snake incident, needed to be consoled. No problem, we thought, we'll forget all our troubles over a nice cuppa with Paul.
We thought wrong.
Not that the cuppa wasn't nice. It was. But we didn't have it with Paul. Paul stood us up, again (confidential to Paul: you are no longer our friend, so fekk off).
So what we did instead was to console ourselves with a picnic lunch in "Historic Unionville" (note to potential picnickers: history not included).
And then we went bra shopping. It's funny how bra shopping makes me wish I was a B-cup, and at the same time makes Jason particularly glad that I am not.
And then we went to donate blood (see a pattern here? yeah, me neither), and there was a small "incident" that required us to cancel our evening plans for downtown and stay in instead, not even partaking of the yummy Jamie Cocktails (Jamocktails, if you will).
We almost stayed awake to 9pm. Jason slept for 12 undisturbed hours; I watched him sleep for most of these. It was great. No, really. It was. It was a great weekend, even if it was actually a weekmiddle. And only 2 days of recovery before we do it all over again. Who's free on Sunday?
(as always, additional pictures can be found at Picture This)
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