Caution

Ducking from the flying debris, I vaulted over a half torn down chain-link fence. My heart was pounding from the manic running and each additional step felt like it would rip my lungs to shreds. But to stop... pause, even was to die. So, I kept running away from the sounds of the battle, away from the threat, towards what I hoped was relative safety.

The bunker was partially destroyed, but I spied an opening and shimmied in just as a tremendous explosion lit up the sky and for an instance it was bright as daylight. The walls trembled, but stood firm. For the next few hours I huddled in the darkness trying to contemplate my next move. Exhausted, I fell asleep.

When I awoke, it was to an eerie silence. While I had slept, the battle had passed over me and moved on. The air was thick with smoke and fumes from fires that still burned on the ground. As I looked out wondering if I should leave, a slight movement caught my eye. Someone... or something was approaching the bunker picking its way through the debris field. I watched in panic as it drew nearer knowing that if it came in here, I was defenceless.

Suddenly the smoke cleared and I got a good look at the figure. My heart leaped in relief; it was Beer Baron! Scrambling out of the shelter, I ran towards him calling his name. He stopped and smiled, then as I ran up besides him he raised his hand. He was holding a gun and the gun was pointed at my head. "No.... it's me...." I said, confused. But there was no friendship in his eyes as he spoke. "If it is really you, tell me.... what would you make sure to have in your house before I came over for a visit?"

"Please....." I whispered.

"TELL ME... or I will kill you. Now."

I didn't know the answer. I didn't know what he wanted to hear.... what would keep me alive. Fear and exhaustion washed over me and at that moment I did not care if I would live or die. I looked up at the face of the person I thought was my friend, and said, "A plunger."

His face broke into a smile and he lowered the gun.

And then, I woke up.

A Groovy Kind of Love

We are all familiar with the sequence. Boy meets girl, girl meets boy. There is an attraction, they date. And perhaps they live happily ever after or else they split up and the cycle begins all over again. After an appropriate interval where broken hearts/wounded feelings mended with the help of copious amounts of ice cream eating of course!

That is exactly how things started out with Wookie.

We met last December at one of the comedy nights where I managed to make a complete tit of myself. Shockingly, that didn’t put him right off and over the next few weeks there was more talking (mostly on my part) and subtle flirting continued. He finally made his move one night as we walked home post comedy which resulted in a most lovely snogging session. The lad didn’t have much chat, but it turns out he had a talented tongue regardless. We made plans to meet on New Year’s Eve after he was done work, but thanks to a longer than usual shift (him), a dead phone battery (me) and general New Year’s Eve madness, that didn’t pan out. Feeling guilty about the whole fiasco, he contacted me the next morning and we made plans to meet up after I was back from Berlin. He suggested going to the Stand, which was actually quite nice; we both liked comedy and I’d never been there before. It was a perfect evening. Lots of laughs thanks to the stellar line up, an equal amount of private jokes between us two; meeting up with fellow comedy lovers and heading out to a pub post show and of course, more of that talented tongue. So when he called to set up another date for that Sunday, of course, I was more than happy.

And that’s where it all went so very wrong.

For starters, he showed up more than 20 minutes late. There was no explanatory text/phone message to give me a heads up and no apology when he finally did get there. Fortunately, I had a book with me and so I didn’t really notice the passage of time. I did however notice a couple of sympathetic glances from the serving staff who, no doubt have seen their share of poor stood up folk. Seated at the table, he was far more interested in focusing on his phone rather on me. I got staccato responses to my questions and no eye contact. At one point I even stopped talking mid sentence and started counting silently to see how long it would take him to notice the silence: I got to 11. To add insult to injury, he mentioned that he intended to head over to his parents place that evening and had a train to catch in an hour. I took that as a not to subtle request to eat faster so that he could get out of there. Upset and rather frustrated by the total opposite of our previous date and the entire sham of an afternoon, I choked down my meal as quickly as possible. We parted at the street corner and I walked back to my flat in a rage.

Not even a half hour later, he pops up on Facebook chat; GoodNews! My parents are here, so I’m getting a lift down to their place. Wonderful, I responded. And then, because I had nothing to lose and I was still hopping mad I added, Let’s just hope you’re better company for them than you were for me today. Nothing for a while, then I got a Whatever do you mean? which, Reader, was JUST the opening I had been looking for. I spewed out all of my rage and frustrations on to that chat message, holding nothing back. For the next hour or so, we chatted back and forth furiously, both attacking and defending. He claimed he was nervous. I said I was too. He said I was forceful, I said he was confusing. He said I didn’t know anything about football, I said that wasn’t even a reasonable statement. And so it went on until we were both out of steam. Look, let’s just forget about the whole thing and move on with our lives, was my final comment. He agreed, we both signed off and I imagined that I would never hear from him again and perhaps see him only occasionally at comedy events where there were enough other people around for us not to have to converse.

How wrong I was!

We ended up chatting online the next day. And the day after, and the day after that as well. In fact, since that fateful “date” not a single day went by without us chatting online or trading a barrage of text messages. We met at comedy. We met outside of comedy. By then, I had started to plan the fundraiser night and he ended up helping me out in little ways; introducing me to his sister who agreed to come photograph the event, running errands to pick up raffle prizes from around the city and sometimes just listening to me rant about various things that were driving me insane. We talked about everything. With other people he was shy to the point of playing mute. Yet, with each other we were never at a loss for words. I told him about the entire fiasco with Beans and he told me about the girl he’d been crushing on for the past six months. We plotted over ways to get her to realise his existence. He declared that I’d gone long enough without football in my life, and I became Padwan to his Jedi Master. And that is how it has been for these past five months.

Sometimes, the memory of those kisses return. But there is no lingering on a “what if.” I know that this is the better way. Had we not had that disaster date, there may have been a few more meetings, a few more kisses, perhaps even sex. But that is where it would have ended. I am sure of it. I do not want a long term relationship right now and he is not ready for one either. A long term friendship however, we can both handle just fine. Our friends joke about us being a couple and yes, it does seem so; all the hallmarks of a relationship just minus the physical intimacy. And yes, there is love: a lot of it in fact. Somehow, Wookie has managed to make me open up again and trust in love again. Perhaps the next time, I will be ready to go that one step further. But for now, I am happy with this kind of love. And when alls said and done, he is so handy when it comes to the changing of the light bulbs!

Cold Hard Truths

Me (to friend): So, how’s the new job going? Like it better than the other place?

Friend: Yeah… its good. This place is much… um… swankier than the last though.

Me: Oh? How do you mean?

Friend: Well, for starters, they’re really picky about their staff and how they look. The waitresses are totally stunning!

Me: Ah well.. makeup does wonders. If I knew how to wield a mascara brush, I’d have a job there as well.

Alleged Friend: No, you don’t understand. They want REALLY beautiful women.

Me: (thinking) Time for some new friends.

The Aftermath

 The last guests have just been ushered out the door and I turn back to survey the disaster zone that is my flat. If there is a direct correlation between how great the party was as compared to the mess left behind, the I'm thinking this was the party of all parties!

The clean up will take a while, especially since I'm feeling rather tender right now. But it was one helluva night. A fitting close to a week of birthday celebrations, and a terrific start to wonderful new decade ahead.

Roots

Last year I found out by chance that a lot of my friends here in G Town had never taken part in that oh-so-delightful Autumn activity otherwise known as pumpkin carving. I decided that it was my bounded duty to spread the good cheer of Halloween and with that in mind I invited a few friends around for a night of carving. It was a fun night; lots of laughs, good food and getting to know new friends. And a whole lot of folks who lost their proverbial pumpkin carving cherry!

A few weeks ago, some of the friends who'd come to last year's party cajoled me into organising another such evening. Last night, as I looked around at the gang gathered around my living room I felt a sense of accomplishment. I had established a tradition of sorts.

Today there was more evidence of further integration into local culture. Come 8 o'clock and I'd settled in to watch X Factor - the results show. Drama and his boy got me hooked the weekend I was in London and I'm now cheering along with the rest of this island. Again, it seems trivial but its just another thing that makes me feel more at home. Makes me feel like I belong here. Here, in this adoptive home of mine.

Another Milestone

Today marks one year since I moved into my twee apartment here in G Town. Through the last year, its been the one constant of goodness. Literally, my place of refuge. And of course Rain Man, my very mental, very sweet and totally crazy flat mate who (amongst other things) introduced me some of my best pals, given me a hug and kind words when things have been down, helped me settle into the city and just generally been an overall great candidate for the Flatmate of the Century award!

Boy Town

 

Not only were the lads at camp more knowledgeable about hair care, apparently their expertise also extended to club wear, accessorising and make up! I certainly have miles to go before I can hope to catch up!

Heat Wave

The south coast of England has been experiencing one of the hottest and driest summers in recent years. The same can be said for life on campus. Things are heating up.

Last week, I had to add condoms to my list of centre related weekly purchases. This comes after not one, but two emergency runs to the clinic for the morning after pill. After being hauled out of bed at 5 am by a near hysterical 17 year old boy to intervene on his behalf with the group leader who was probably going to go ballistic on him (and rightly so), I threw the rule book out the window and decided that we should start being safe rather than sorry. I figured it sort of count as an on campus activity if enough kids were participating. Heck, as far as I knew, it was probably the best attended activity of them all. Also, I didn't even want to consider the amount of paperwork involved should any of those damn "kids" have a woopsie!

Its not just the kids though. The adults seem to be going sex mad as well. Perhaps its the fact that we're stuck in a remote location and contact with the outside world is minimum; or perhaps its simply the case of what happens at summer camp, is forgotten anyway because we were too damn drunk to sort out the tangles the morning after. Of course this leads to more drama since erm... "overlapping" is bound to occur.

Yep, its been a hot and dry summer. All around me people are on sexual fire, while sadly I've been experiencing a long and very frustrating drought.

Summer Trends: The New Black

The reasoning behind the colour for our uniforms was sound. We needed to be easily identified in a crowd. With a violent shade as this, I'm pretty sure that if you check satellite footage we visible from the moon, all of us in a row like some human Wall of Activity Leaders.

We didn't have a choice. The dice was cast and the colour of summer 2010 was orange. And so we did the only thing we could, given the circumstances.

We made it look good!

Happy to Me!!!

Things had been so very hectic in the run up to the fundraising event that I had been thinking of nothing else other than volunteer lists, prizes for the silent auction and all manner of other prep points that I quite neglected the fact that a momentous occasion was almost upon us.... my birthday!

When I finally set aside the notes and invoices from the ball, and began to think about the birthday, I knew one thing was for sure; no way was I going to spend the day cooped up at the office... or even at home. That would be just too sad, even for someone who has sunk as low as I have!

A quick scan on the interwebulator told me that Stirling Castle was having a bunch of special exhibitions and my handy-dandy yearly subscription to the Scottish Historic Society was not only going to get me into the castle for free, but also into all of the exhibitions at no extra cost! With that sweet a deal on the table, how could I not go???

And off I went. And what a glorious day for a trip to a medieval castle. Not because it was a clear and sunny wintry morning, but rather a cold and clammy day with the mists swirling low down on the hills and all around the castle; perfect for a visit into history.
Things warmed up a great deal later that evening when I met Beans, VBF and her husband for dinner at a Brazilian restaurant in the city centre. Glorious food, great laughs and the company of good friends; all ingredients for a very special birthday celebration.
The evening was particularly enjoyable since earlier on I'd received a phone call from the elusive Boss Man. Apologising profusely for not getting back to me earlier, he explained that although he had indeed dissolved the company and the partnership at Easterhouse, he was starting up a new company under a different banner and that far from being unemployed, my services would be very much needed to get things going and done correctly from the get go. Suffice to say, there was a huge sigh of relief at my end of the line! He was getting things sorted out for a new office location this week and would get back to me with information on starting next Monday. Same arrangement as before, same rates... just different location.

I went off to dinner feeling much MUCH better and ready to celebrate for more reasons than one! The pals did not disappoint and it was a simply lovely evening out. And the celebrations will continue this weekend with drinks at a local hot spot and then next week..... PARIS!

29 has begun well. I pray that it will continue as such. Dammit, I need a good year!

Year End Snippets

Internet access on this trip has been scanty at best. Which hopefully is a good enough explanation/excuse for my appalling lack of blog updates over the last little bit. The only times I can get online to check mail or check FB or dash off a quick post is when I can erm, "borrow" a signal from some hapless neighbour who has forgotten to secure his wireless connection. Like now!

Post surgery, we ALL felt better, not just Papa. There is the little issue of the biopsy results, but for now, we are making like ostriches and have our collective heads firmly buried in the sand and are only focusing on the here and now and the present. The rest, we will deal with as it comes.

Keeping that in mind, I have been doing my very best to catch up on meetings with friends over the past week or so which would explain my being out every single night ever since the 24th. Days are for family, nights are for friends!

One of the highlights of these nights out was the St. Anne's Choir reunion that my friend Maestro organised. Background: A bunch of us used to sing for the 6pm Sunday evening mass at our parish church. We'd been doing this for around 6 years when I left, and they continued to sing as a group for another 3 years after that until Maestro left to do an MBA in the US of A. 8.5 years later, we were back for a One Night Only "performance". We were older, fatter, taller, wiser(?) and in many cases with little versions running around; but our voices still blended just as well as before and we totally rocked the house church! Said my little cousin as we made our way to church that evening: You haven't MET each other in 8 years, let alone SANG together and the mass is at 7pm and its already 6:27 right now which gives you less than half an hour to practice!!! Can you pull this off??? The same cousin to her mum later that night; They hadn't even MET in 8 years and they didn't even have half an hour of practice and they were AWESOME!

And so have passed these last few days, with celebratory pre dinner drinks and dinners and post dinner coffees and the likes. Took a quick jaunt downtown with Maestro and another visiting friend (M&M) from "the abroad" who is also an ex Xaverite, like myself. Which was good enough reason to pay a visit to our Alma Mater. We even made a quick stop at the Psychology classrooms and labs high up in the rafters of the college where both M&M and I worked and slaved during our final years. OK, so perhaps M&M did just a *leetle* more slaving than I did, but hey, that's besides the point. We did meet a bunch of wannabe psych grads who were in the current process of slavery over journals - pointless copying of notes, observations and inferences into big fat log books that no one really bothered to read - and de-lighted their bogged down little minds with narrations of our past exploits in the very same classrooms eons before. I do believe that they were considerably bolstered by actual evidence that other persons had gone through the same boring mind numbing experience and somehow lived to tell the tale!

Which brings us to today. The last day of 2009. A chance to say goodbye to the year that has been and greet with open arms the year that is to come.

But first, I must go to the airport to pick up Jo who arrived in from Goa today to spend New Year's eve and the next few days with me before heading back home to Japan. Need to greet her before the new year!

Sigh of Relief

The ordeal over Papa's surgery began about the time when my grandmother passed away. The visiting family (including my mum and dad) began to notice that Papa was having trouble swallowing during meals. He was already on a mashed diet, so the docs were called in. A growth was detected in his esophagus and windpipe. The docs advised us to wait it out. He might just be able to keep going in spite of it, they said. The weeks passed, and it got worse. His breathing was laboured and every meal started to become torturous for both him, and those around him. By the time I arrived into Bombay, we knew that there was no alternative other than surgery to ease his pain. Although it would be a simple enough operation, the risks were much higher given his advanced age. Still, it was either that or literally watch him choke to death.

And so, surgery was scheduled for the 26th. It was the first time the poor man was leaving the house in almost 8 years. That in itself was a trauma for all concerned as we had to call in a cardiac ambulance and he had be to carried out on a stretcher. He looked so pale and so worried that we all wondered if that was the right choice. Would we see him again?

My aunt, two uncles and a cousin and the day nurse went off to the hospital. The rest of us stayed home and fidgeted and jumped like cats on hot bricks each time the phone rang. Seeing as it was just the day after Christmas, it rang a lot!

The surgery was postponed twice; first the doctor was delayed, then an emergency took precedence. Finally, we got a call that he was out and in the post opp. It had been a tough operation, the docs said. Touch and go at one point. They were only able to remove about 70% of the mass. Still, he rallied through and they were confident he'd be fine. But they kept him in the ICCU for that night, just to be safe.

We took turns to troop to the hospital the next day. And how we all marvelled! The wheezing had disappeared, his voice was stronger and more confident, his cheeks had a bit of colour (after ages) and his meals were going down a treat! And impatient. He didn't like being cooped up in a hospital room. He wanted to get down and move around. The docs looked impressed when they came around. Get him home, they said. We don't want him catching anything here. Filthy places, hospitals! And besides, he's giving the 70 year olds a complex!

When they were bringing him home, the cardiac specialist who assisted with the surgery swung by to say goodbye. Papa, take care of yourself, he said shaking hands with his oldest patient. Oh, and don't forget to have your glass of "Holy Water" tonight! Splendid stuff! Keeps everything in good working order!

And so, he's home now. Safe and sound and back to drinking whisky! Let's hope that he stays that way for a long long while!

Tricking and Treating!

A chance conversation with VBF and Gingersnap made me realise that many of my friends here in G Town had never carved up pumpkins for Hallowe'en! Given that I am only a recent carver myself, I just had to share the experience and so, everyone was invited over to my place yesterday.

A few false starts and slips later, here are the results. Happy Hallowe'en Everyone!

Cooking Curry and Making Friends

Last week, one of Rain Man's friends called to asked if she could "borrow" me to help her figure out the mysteries of the Indian spice rack. She had a couple of recipes that she was dying to try out but wanted some "expert" help with picking the ingredients. Accordingly, Blondie and I met up at the Indian store where she proceeded to pick up almost everything in sight and that wasn't nailed down. Really, I'm not sure when she's ever going to make samosas (from scratch) or appams or idils or half the other dishes for which she liberally gathered raw materials. But that's not the point. Besides, we had a mission - Lamb Curry was on the menu and we were ready to cook. As I assumed the role of culinary supervisor and spice grinder, Blondie chopped, grated, sliced and diced with a vigor that only a novice cook can muster. I recognised it in my own cooking style!

 

After combining everything, we left it to simmer on a low heat and went off for a pint to the pub. On our return an hour (and a few pints) later, we found a smooth and tasty curry waiting for us.

It was half way through dinner that I actually remembered that it was Diwali, the Hindu new year and the festival of lights. When I shared that with Blondie and described how back in India all the houses would be decorated with little oil lamps from top to bottom, she got up and ran around lighting all sorts of little candles. Just like India, she beamed triumphantly.

Looking around, I had to admit that although we certainly wouldn't have had a bunch of vanilla and cranberry Ikea candles in India, essentially it was just like home. I was celebrating and sitting around a table sharing good food and toasting to a new friendship.

That, is certainly a good reason for a celebration!

The Kindness of Strangers

Four days after Beans decided to drop his little bombshell on me, I'd had enough of the blow hot, blow cold attitude. He'd make an advance towards sharing time with me, then behave as if I was something off the short bus. I love the man (yes, am using the present tense), but there's only so many veiled insults a gal can take.

I was already in the process of looking for a place of my own, but even the quickest turn around would be a week, maybe two. I needed a stop-gap solution or else I was going to totally loose my mind - and whatever little self worth I had left.

I started looking around for short term stays at hostels and at the university residence halls. There just didn't seem to be anything available for the (little) money I had and what I could afford was all sold out. And then, salvation! VBF called to tell me that she called around to some of her pals and one of them had a spare room that I could use for around 2 weeks. Just the ticket! A quick series of calls and texts and voila, I had a confirmation on a place to stay.

I'd like to point out that that I'd met this girl all of 3 times before and she'd just literally opened up her house to me. Talk about the right time to believe in a world of kindness again.

And so, I'm moving in with her on Thursday and boy am I looking forward to it! Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm busting back! Its time for a turnaround.

The Weakest Link

About a month ago, I sent out a mass email to all of my friends in and around the T Dot asking them to keep the evening of July 11 free for my last big night in the city. A couple of days later, Trippy and the Lady Killer politely but very firmly told me that that was the extent of the planning for me. I was to hand over a list of invitees to them and they would take it from there.


That's what I did (coz LK threatened to sit on me if I didn't) but boy is the suspense killing me! Though, as Beer Baron stated its not so much the suspense as much as my inability to be part of the planning process that has given me a nervous twitch and made me occasionally break out into hives. I am not good with lack of control. But then again, you dear reader knows this!


On Saturday as Beans and I were having one of our usual weekend marathon Skype conversations he mentions that an email from Trippy has just come in. Its about your farewell party, he said and started to read out the email. Stop, STOP!!! I hollered. I'm not supposed to know the details!!!! That shut him up, but then he proceeded to read the email and interject things like oh that's interesting and I think you're going to be pleasantly surprised at the venue and oh my! Don't wear anything new that night...... which of course just drove me crazy, which I suspect was what he was aiming for all along. Still, I decided to take the high road on this one and although I was DYING to know, I changed the topic and put the party right out of my mind.


Of course that zen like calm lasted all of one day after which I started casually questioning friends about whether they had gotten the invite (just to check if they'd gotten it of course), and mentioned that if they WANTED to tell me anything about the party, I'd be more than happy to not mention that I got it from them......


No good. Either they looked at me blankly and said that they just noticed the date but not the details, or they looked at me blankly and said what party? or they looked away and started talking about other things in a high pitched voice.


In desperation, I went back to Beans promising him all sorts of sexual favours if he would only just tell me something, ANYTHING about the party. Instead he pointed out that after 5 months apart I would be ready to do anything anyway. Humph! True.


Oh well, I have about a month. SOMEONE's going to crack sooner or later.

I think.

I hope!

Starry Starry Night

On Friday night, I met up with a friend with whom I had not had ANY contact with for the past 2 years, but when we meet it was like no time has passed at all. Peaches (unfortunate name from his high school days that just stuck) and I caught up on each others adventures on a sun kissed patio over some fine brews and good food.

On Friday night after Peaches and I said goodbye, I headed over to a West Coast Swing dance and hit the floor for 3 hours straight. I wondered, how is it that I can be a sexy inhibited dancing QUEEN here, but am all legs and arms and awkward as hell each time I do the Rumba? Same level of "sexy" required for both dances. Huuuum.

On Friday night, I left the dance hall tired and sweaty and instead of hopping on the subway, I took a detour and a midnight streetcar ride. The driver had a little transistor radio on and the music of Cole Porter hummed gently.

On Friday night I finally got home at 2am and realised that Friday night was long gone. Saturday was here.

Stupid Parents = Stupider Children. Help stop this cycle of destruction!!

By most accounts, Queen Victoria was a cranky old bat who lived and reigned far longer than she should have. Still, I cannot help but feeling a surge of love for the old girl every spring when we are graced with a much coveted day off on the 3rd Monday of May in celebration of her birthday.

I was supposed to head over to Shutterbug's place on Saturday for a pot luck + communal viewing of Eurovision 2009. Most ashamed to say that I had never even HEARD of Eurovision until she sent out the invite a few weeks ago and even then, I had to go google it! Who knew this had been going on for almost 50 years??? Beans scoffed at the whole concept, but was also quick to point out that Ireland had apparently won the most times! (funny boy!). Anyway, that's where I had planned to be on Saturday afternoon, thinking that it would a great addition towards my Preparing to Live in Europe series. But, life turned out differently and thanks to some majorly yucky sensations in my tummy I was huddled in bed until late afternoon. Texts back and forth t'ween Beans (who was in Ft. Williams at an Iron Man contest with some mutual friends) and I made me feel heaps better and by that evening.

Sunday morning dawned bright and beautiful and it seemed a pity to waste such a glorious day indoors. A quick bout of calls to Beer Baron, Trippy and Lady Killer had us all heading out to the Toronto Zoo where we spent a de-lightful afternoon animal gazing. Not so de-lightful however was fighting our way through the crowds and crowds of families each with a couple of strollers that were close in size to a mini humvi! Apparently, "I have a kid" is a good enough reason for every parent to abandon all rules of polite social conduct - such as waiting in line - and push and shove ones way to the front. This would make sense in a situation with only ONE person with a kid/stroller such as at a bus stop or subway, but doesn't really work the same when about 20 people around you ALSO have over sized stroller filled offspring. Trippy and I kept hoping that a couple of the parents would get into an all out stroller battle and we would have been so ready with a play by play commentary!

The abundance of species Parentus Stupidus made us realize just why there are so many kids who grow up to be total douchbags; really, they cannot help it after the constant interaction with douchbag parents throughout the formative years of their life. Case in point, at the Artic Wolves paddock, Parentus Stupidus # 1 to her youngins: Oh look at the cute white doggie boys. His name is Wolf.

And a few years from now, we will hear about this same kid being mauled by a grizzly on a camping trip because he went to play with the little brown bear that was just like Teddy.

Back and Blue and Brown all over

A couple of weekends ago I helped Beer Baron and his lady love (LL) move into a new apartment conversion loft unit. Over 2 days, BB, Trippy, LL and myself hauled, moved, pushed and tugged at various pieces of furniture and umpteen boxes and other assorted odds and ends that left me with some spectacular bruises all over my arms, torso and legs. Some of these movable units included custom made red leather cowboy boots, 3 microwaves (when the new place has a built in one), 2 racer bikes (one of which has not been ridden in 3 years) and 4 egg cartons of hand painted 40 year old Ukrainian Easter eggs.

All moves have their up and downs, but this one was particularly eventful. Like when one of the couches slipped out of my hands on the way down the stairs and ended up pinning Trippy to the wall at the bottom. Or when we got to the new place and had the truck semi unloaded, the skies ominously darkened and a gale force wind took up whipping around any and all loose debris and pelting us with gravel from a nearby construction site. It was like being in a war zone and having shrapnel flying at us! If that wasn't enough, the wind somehow activated the fire alarm in not one, not two... but THREE adjoining buildings causing their collective sirens to ring for the next 20 minutes and then ring in our ears for the next 3 hours... give or take!

By day two, we were all physical and emotional wrecks so thankfully Lady Killer dropped by to help on Sunday afternoon or else there would have been a couple o corpses to add to the pile in their living room.

Somewhere in between, Beer Baron decided that it was getting too hot (this was pre storm) and with the aid of the moving dolly and the combined efforts of Trippy and LL he managed to get one of the loft windows open. The whole operation looked rather like a rehearsal for a Cirque du Soleil routine and of course, we HAD to take a picture!

It's been 2 weeks now and we're not sure if they've figured out how to close that window again!

Testimonial

My Very Best Friend is getting married this September. It has been 22 years, but I remember the day we met like it was just yesterday. It was the first day of school in Grade One and my mum was ushering me into the classroom and asking me where I’d like to sit. As I looked around the classroom at all the little girls bawling their eyes out, I recall feeling rather alarmed. Not because I was afraid to be at school – I had been looking forward to this all summer – rather because I’d never seen so many girls crying all at once! I scanned the classroom and decided to sit besides the only other little girl who wasn’t crying. The rest as they say is history.

Very Best Friend met her soon-to-be husband when she was studying in Glasgow and now she needs to apply for a spousal visa to be able to get back into the country so that she marry The Man of her Dreams and live happily ever after. The church has been booked and the minister has been notified; the deposit on the reception room has been paid, the invites have been printed and the bride and groom have their wedding gear on a hanger ready to go. All that stands between Very Best Friend and her wedding is one of the immigration officers at the British High Commission in Bombay.

To prove that this is not a marriage of convenience and that they are not out to pull a fast one on Her Majesty’s Government, Very Best Friend and Man of Her Dreams have to provide various pieces of evidence that support the existence of their 2 year relationship. And since I met husband to be (her’s not mine) when I was there in December 2006, VBF asked me to write a letter of personal recommendation.

As I struggled with this particular request, I couldn’t but help laugh at the irony of someone like me – who is the farthest away from being able to sustain a healthy and viable relationship – as the one being asked to testify to love.

The first draft of the letter looked something like this:

Dear Mr. /Ms. Immigration Officer,
The first boy who ever paid an iota of interest in me was (as I later discovered) cozying up to me only to get closer to a good friend of mine who was the actual object of his affections. Although I wasn’t particularly bowled over by him and his attentions, when the truth came out I still felt the sting. My last boyfriend broke up with me OVER THE PHONE 3 days after I came back from a 4 month vacation. Talk about a kill joy. Over the 3 days since my return he repeatedly dodged my phone calls and emails. All 14 of them. Did I mention that we had been dating for 4 years? And oh yeah, I also later found out that one of the primary reasons he wasn’t taking my calls was because he was out dating someone else.
Suffice to say, I have not been lucky with love. Lying Cheating Self Centered Bast*rds seem to be my lot in life. I wouldn’t say that I am done with love (there’s the eternal optimist in me) but at this point in my life, I’m not about strongly advocating it either. In my opinion it is a whole lot of work for very little results – that too not guaranteed.
So you should particularly note when I now write to you to vouch for the validity of this couple. Being around them makes me want to believe in love again. Makes me want to give it another try. Can I say any more?

Now, please give my Very Best Friend her visa so that at least one of us can live Happily Ever After.
Sincerely etc.

After MANY MANY rewrites, this is what I came up with:

Dear Sir/Madam,
I have had the pleasure of knowing Ms. Very Best Friend for the past 22 years. We met in Grade school and developed our friendship over the 10 years in Elementary and High School and then later at St. Xavier’s College in Mumbai.

The Very Best Friend family happened to live just down the road and it was a common practice for VBF and myself to be popping into each others houses. Even after her family moved away from the neighbourhood our two families remained close, meeting often for birthdays, anniversaries, festivals and other occasions. For as long as I can remember, VBF has been an integral part of all my family celebrations and is well acquainted with my extended family as well. Although my family immigrated to Canada in July of 2001, we have maintained close relations in spite of the geographical separation.

I was very pleased to hear of her acquaintance with Man of Her Dreams (MoHD) back in late 2005 when they met while working at the XXX in Glasgow. I gathered from her emails and our conversations that he had soon become an important part of her life. They began dating in May and I had the pleasure of meeting him in person in December 2006 when I visited VBF for a week. During that stay, I got well acquainted with MoHD as he took time to show me around Glasgow. We met several times over the duration of my holiday and I found him to be a kind and generous individual and it was evident that together they made a good team.

VBF returned to Mumbai in January of 2007 and in April that year, MoHD made a visit to India to meet her family. It was on that trip that they became formally engaged – an event that was witnessed and celebrated by her family and close friends.

VBF asked me to be maid of honour at the wedding and I accepted with great pleasure. The wedding was supposed to be this April, but sadly her paternal grandmother passed away last November and both MoHD and she thought that it was only fitting to push back the wedding so that the family could pay proper respects to the deceased.

Like any couple in love, they are not enjoying their current separation, but planning out the details for their September wedding makes the time fly by, and thankfully they have all the conveniences of modern communication to make the separation bearable! MoHD even made a quick visit to Mumbai this January as a surprise for VBF’s birthday and they spent a happy two weeks together before he had to return back to his PhD studies at the University of Paisley. Still, I know that they are looking forward to the time when they can be together again, and this time for the rest of their lives.

I am extremely happy for my friend right now as I see that she had found someone who loves respects and truly cares for her and who I am certain will make a great compliment as a life partner. I am very much looking forward to being at the wedding this September and see them take the step into married life as their love and commitment to each other continues to grow and develop.

Sincerely,
Jaded, but Happy Maid of Honour.