| Some days I feel like I live in fast forward. Let me explain. This is today as I have experienced it: |
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| wake up. make love. make breakfast. fast forward. go outside to get sun and read a book. fast forward. talk to R. fast forward. play The Sims. fast forward. play hearts on the puter. go outside to read some more. fast forward. play more cards. fast forward. lie down in bed to read again. fast forward. take a shower. type in journal. |
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| It's sort of like... watching a movie with half of it on high speed. You know you're missing parts, and you can sort of see blurry action going on but you can't understand the dialogue or account for the subtle events in between the big obvious ones. |
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| The times I hate the most are when somebody presses stop and THEN fast forward, so I don't get to see any of what happens in between. I just get to witness wherever life happens to be when somebody else presses play. This is happening too much lately. |
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| On a lighter note, we had a fun time yesterday at the Dartmouth Multicultural Festival. According to Mr. Hat*, it was all about hunting meat-on-sticks (sold in the food tent and admittedly yummy). We (R, Mr.Hat, and myselves) took the ferry to the Dartmouth waterfront where the festivities were held... to the kids, that ride across the harbour was more fun than the festival itself. Once back on solid ground, we promptly found our way to the meat-on-sticks and other goodies. It was really really crowded, but R stayed close by so we managed to stay relatively anxiety-free. After sampling enough Sri Lankan, Indian, Carribean, and Lebanese food to satisfy our bellies, we wandered about drooling at displays of lovely trinkets. I think we all spent just as much time drooling at the lovely people there, too. I had no idea that these types of gatherings were populated with such awesome-looking people. Damn! There was one moment where I stood in the middle of the food tent and looked around me, realizing that I could be in almost any city in the world (any city who embraces the idea of yellow-and-white striped tents as festive, that is)- the music, the smells, the chatter, the clothing were overwhelmingly NOT the Dartmouth we know and hate. It would have been fun to sit in a corner and pretend to be somewhere exotic just to see how successfully I could convince myself that I was on another continent. |
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| Once we ascertained that the next performance wouldn't be happening until much later, we decided to go for a walk while waiting to catch the ferry back to Halifax. I grabbed a precious Tim Horton's coffee and wandered with the boys along the waterfront. We smoked a fattie on the World Peace Pavillion, which is so noteworthy in itself that I'll risk writing about it here :) Also noteworthy is the fact that R spit on the World Peace Pavillion. You can go right ahead and draw your own conclusions about that one. |
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| Okay okay, he didn't do it purposefully, and he didn't actually spit on the pavillion, but it was close enough to it to get a wisecrack. |
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| It was fun to hang out with Mr. Hat again (twice in one week!). R seemed to enjoy himself too (despite the spitting). |
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| Time to sign off. I can feel the fast forward coming on again, and I'd like to get this posted first. 'Til next time! |
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| *Mr. Hat is the same friend who dropped by a few days ago and left his Cypress Hill CD. I named him Mr. Hat because he's always wearing a funky black hat, which I covet every time I see it. Any resemblance to the Mr. Hat of South Park fame is purely coincidental (and if you find a resemblance, you've forgotten to take your meds today).
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