It's Sunday
And I don't have to work tomorrow.
Today is a good day to finally relax and read a few books. I had to return a library book at the main branch so we went for a ride into town. I also dashed into the office to check my mailbox. Nothing too important. Jules and I went into town and did some people watching. Sat with Terry Fox and watched groups of tourists taking pictures of his statue with every type of digital, film and phone camera under the sun. Well, under the clouds anyway. Sporadic showers, however, did not stop the omnipresent tourists and us.
Julie got her first Terry Fox loonie in circulation today, too. We eventually ducked into the Wold Exchange Center to catch a flick: The Hitchhicker's Guide to the Galaxy. Meh... it was good, but I would rather listen to the audio book in this particular case (which I did about 15 years ago). The show was playing in theatre number five... a wee tiny little nook with about twenty five seats. Only four or five others in there watching it with us. Note, stay till the end and see a few more minutes of the movie play out while the credits roll otherwise you may miss the extra bits.
We went to Wendy's on Elgin Street and Julie was about to spend her first Terry Fox loonie and I stopped her--I am such a hoarder. She was about to spend a 1967 quarter too, and I again, stopped her. The thing is made of silver you know. Worth more than a quarter! Probably thirty five or fourty five cents at any rate. The cashier probably figured I was nuts. "Just pay me the goddamn money", he must have thought.
I don't usually eat cheese burgers but I ordered a classic single with cheese. Splurge. We sat down and I took a bite and it was all dressed but with no cheese. The guy that served us was cleaning near us and I showed him my burger. He said, "No cheese, eh?" in a manner like this usually happens. He motioned to me that he was going to take back my burger but I had already bit into it and without hesitation, he immediately went back to get me another one, this time with cheese. Like I needed another burger when I am trying to lose some weight... Bastard! I know I could have been polite and said no thanks, but it was like, some new Wendy's policy to make up for the finger in the chilli fiasco I suppose, so how could I refuse? I am so weak when it comes to free food.
We eventually walked down to Perfect Books and made a couple of purchases: Blackfly Season by Giles Blunt (who's coming to town this week) and also Umberto Eco's latest, get this, an illustrated novel. It's called The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana. Also made it to Mags and Fags to check out some more reading material and bought a copy of a fine little booklet, DA (The Devil's Artisan) #56. This issue is a treat (always really) since it includes with a loosely inserted illustration by Frank Newfeld. Classic illustrator of Canadian literature. See The Spice box of Earth by Leonard Cohen for example of his work. Also in this issue is a four stanza poem by Wayne Clifford for the late poet Richard Outram who commited suicide earlier this year by sitting outside in the cold. Here is the first stanza:
Today is a good day to finally relax and read a few books. I had to return a library book at the main branch so we went for a ride into town. I also dashed into the office to check my mailbox. Nothing too important. Jules and I went into town and did some people watching. Sat with Terry Fox and watched groups of tourists taking pictures of his statue with every type of digital, film and phone camera under the sun. Well, under the clouds anyway. Sporadic showers, however, did not stop the omnipresent tourists and us.
Julie got her first Terry Fox loonie in circulation today, too. We eventually ducked into the Wold Exchange Center to catch a flick: The Hitchhicker's Guide to the Galaxy. Meh... it was good, but I would rather listen to the audio book in this particular case (which I did about 15 years ago). The show was playing in theatre number five... a wee tiny little nook with about twenty five seats. Only four or five others in there watching it with us. Note, stay till the end and see a few more minutes of the movie play out while the credits roll otherwise you may miss the extra bits.
We went to Wendy's on Elgin Street and Julie was about to spend her first Terry Fox loonie and I stopped her--I am such a hoarder. She was about to spend a 1967 quarter too, and I again, stopped her. The thing is made of silver you know. Worth more than a quarter! Probably thirty five or fourty five cents at any rate. The cashier probably figured I was nuts. "Just pay me the goddamn money", he must have thought.
I don't usually eat cheese burgers but I ordered a classic single with cheese. Splurge. We sat down and I took a bite and it was all dressed but with no cheese. The guy that served us was cleaning near us and I showed him my burger. He said, "No cheese, eh?" in a manner like this usually happens. He motioned to me that he was going to take back my burger but I had already bit into it and without hesitation, he immediately went back to get me another one, this time with cheese. Like I needed another burger when I am trying to lose some weight... Bastard! I know I could have been polite and said no thanks, but it was like, some new Wendy's policy to make up for the finger in the chilli fiasco I suppose, so how could I refuse? I am so weak when it comes to free food.
We eventually walked down to Perfect Books and made a couple of purchases: Blackfly Season by Giles Blunt (who's coming to town this week) and also Umberto Eco's latest, get this, an illustrated novel. It's called The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana. Also made it to Mags and Fags to check out some more reading material and bought a copy of a fine little booklet, DA (The Devil's Artisan) #56. This issue is a treat (always really) since it includes with a loosely inserted illustration by Frank Newfeld. Classic illustrator of Canadian literature. See The Spice box of Earth by Leonard Cohen for example of his work. Also in this issue is a four stanza poem by Wayne Clifford for the late poet Richard Outram who commited suicide earlier this year by sitting outside in the cold. Here is the first stanza:
One Richard Outram froze to death.
He chose that end, from evidence.
Fitting, perhaps, that that last breath
Should seep unseen as heat's last dance.
posted by John MacDonald at
Sunday, May 22, 2005
2 Comments:
Urgh!You are just like my husband. He asked me tonight to help him count his bucket of quarters. A few minutes into it and he is freaking out becuase they might all be worth more than $0.25. They are just quarters! Everyone of them that is older than 1980 he freaks out on, he is being a little girl. Oh, and his last name is McDonald. Cheap Scottish men!
one of the funniest comments i've received on my blog - ever.
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