Workin' for the Weekend
S'up, ma scrollies? Me, I'm a-working for da Man at a non-profit ultra-organized office, where I am expected to wear nice clothes and run a comb through my hair before I leave the house. Which I haven't had to do in years.
But get this...It's actually downtown Toronto! *girlish scream* Today, guess what I did at lunch? Give up? I bought fresh fruit and a bun for tomorrow's lunch! Also, I passed the following on the way there and back: a drug store; a liquor store; a post office; a variety of shoe stores; a variety of clothing stores; men who did not whistle, hoot or drool as I walked by; all manner of bank and ATM; approximately 800 coffee establishments; hotdog stands teeming with life! There is so much to do and see... I am not ashamed to say that my eyes glistened pretty freely at the thought of getting a personal errand done on my lunch hour. It...It's all so civilized.
I was going to write a five list tonight, and I've been working on it a bit, but I'm too frazzled to concentrate. I've got a lot of things going on lately, things to plan, things to organize, things to do. Camping, birthday surprises, more camping, more birthday surprises, and a trip to Scotland to sort out.
Yup, you heard right. It's time for me and me Ma to go to the ancestral home. [cue bagpipes]
All of my life my mom [alright, alright, enough of the bagpipes!] has told us we were Scottish. My family on both sides has been in Canada since the 1800s and none of us from my grandparents on down have ever set foot on Scottish soil. We have no traditions, no special foods that we partake of, no religious celebrations, nothing at all to distinguish us from the millions of generic white people in this country.
But apparently we're Scottish. I never tire of teasing my mother about it, though. Except for a predilection for the drink and clear tape, we're about as Scottish as Mohandas K. Gandhi.
It has, nevertheless, been a life-long dream of my mother's to go to Scotland. A pretty simple dream and highly attainable you'd think in this day and age. But constrained finances, a diminutive personality, and a mild terror of flying have conspired to keep my mother from realizing it.
However, she has recently come into some money and since I know she would never think of going by herself (plus, how much fun is it if you can't share your memories with someone), I'm going to go with her. Yeah, I gotta dip into the savings to do it, but I'm anticipating that it will be a fun, once-in-a-lifetime trip for her and I'm excited that she's getting to finally do something she's always wanted to do.
And I'm actually surprised that she hasn't given me 8000 reasons why she can't go. She didn't even mention her damn cat once (reason #1 why she can't visit for Thanksgiving weekend or two days at Easter, etc.) I'm not sure how a trans-Atlantic flight will be for her, but she flew to Newfoundland a year ago and she survived that, so it should be a piece of cake now (except for the not being able to smoke thing). Perhaps I'll give her some horse tranquilizers to calm her down. Hell, we'll be traveling coach, maybe I'll take some myself.
Anyway, I'm babbling. Sorry. I'm hoping to get that five list done soon and I'll put it up when it's done. Until then, "up yer kilt!" (which I am told is Gaelic for "I respect you deeply and wish you good luck, long life, and the love of a thousand furry animals").
But get this...It's actually downtown Toronto! *girlish scream* Today, guess what I did at lunch? Give up? I bought fresh fruit and a bun for tomorrow's lunch! Also, I passed the following on the way there and back: a drug store; a liquor store; a post office; a variety of shoe stores; a variety of clothing stores; men who did not whistle, hoot or drool as I walked by; all manner of bank and ATM; approximately 800 coffee establishments; hotdog stands teeming with life! There is so much to do and see... I am not ashamed to say that my eyes glistened pretty freely at the thought of getting a personal errand done on my lunch hour. It...It's all so civilized.
I was going to write a five list tonight, and I've been working on it a bit, but I'm too frazzled to concentrate. I've got a lot of things going on lately, things to plan, things to organize, things to do. Camping, birthday surprises, more camping, more birthday surprises, and a trip to Scotland to sort out.
Yup, you heard right. It's time for me and me Ma to go to the ancestral home. [cue bagpipes]
All of my life my mom [alright, alright, enough of the bagpipes!] has told us we were Scottish. My family on both sides has been in Canada since the 1800s and none of us from my grandparents on down have ever set foot on Scottish soil. We have no traditions, no special foods that we partake of, no religious celebrations, nothing at all to distinguish us from the millions of generic white people in this country.
But apparently we're Scottish. I never tire of teasing my mother about it, though. Except for a predilection for the drink and clear tape, we're about as Scottish as Mohandas K. Gandhi.
It has, nevertheless, been a life-long dream of my mother's to go to Scotland. A pretty simple dream and highly attainable you'd think in this day and age. But constrained finances, a diminutive personality, and a mild terror of flying have conspired to keep my mother from realizing it.
However, she has recently come into some money and since I know she would never think of going by herself (plus, how much fun is it if you can't share your memories with someone), I'm going to go with her. Yeah, I gotta dip into the savings to do it, but I'm anticipating that it will be a fun, once-in-a-lifetime trip for her and I'm excited that she's getting to finally do something she's always wanted to do.
And I'm actually surprised that she hasn't given me 8000 reasons why she can't go. She didn't even mention her damn cat once (reason #1 why she can't visit for Thanksgiving weekend or two days at Easter, etc.) I'm not sure how a trans-Atlantic flight will be for her, but she flew to Newfoundland a year ago and she survived that, so it should be a piece of cake now (except for the not being able to smoke thing). Perhaps I'll give her some horse tranquilizers to calm her down. Hell, we'll be traveling coach, maybe I'll take some myself.
Anyway, I'm babbling. Sorry. I'm hoping to get that five list done soon and I'll put it up when it's done. Until then, "up yer kilt!" (which I am told is Gaelic for "I respect you deeply and wish you good luck, long life, and the love of a thousand furry animals").
posted by Alanis at
6:47 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home