"Everytime I see that movie I have to call my girlfriend. [pretends to be crying] I love you sweetie! I mean, uh...punk rock."
Tonight I found out why Andy of Bella Morte wanted to see Amèlie for something like the fifth time. I have to wonder: is all French cinema this wonderful? Or do we just get la crème de la crème in our petty bourgeois theatres?
Today was the coldest day of the year so far, so I decided to commemorate it by skating in Toronto's most famous outdoor skating rink, Nathan Phillip's Square. Last time we went, the day began with a terrible argument and ended in utter disaster with Javina's elbow fractured. This time we found ourselves swimming in a tide of protesters, as there was a big anti-war protest scheduled for noon today. I had found out about this protest yesterday, when Sister Silver responded to my skating invitation by saying that she would be there for the rally. Great! I thought. I'll be able to see her and skate! What could be better?
I didn't count on the fact that a Toronto protest is a hell of a lot larger than a Wolfville protest - when we protested things in Wolfville during the winter, there were about 30 hardcore hippie types, their children & dogs, and a handful of dedicated Quakers including Sister Silver. You could find anybody in less than a minute, even in the bigger summer protests. Here, not so much. We spent a half-hour crowd watching before we gave up & went to change into our skates. I could say that we were skating for peace, but we really weren't.
My feet began to hurt immediately, allowing me a scant four laps before I had to give up and take them off. I'm a lot heavier than I was four years ago, and I'm also (if you can believe it) in worse shape physically. I'm not sure what exactly made my feet feel like they'd been set on fire and beaten with chunks of wood, but I'm determined to lick this problem. By the time I have children, I really, really want to exude the air of casual athleticism of my parents. I want to be able to teach them to skate & swim & run & play without a) wheezing b) aching c) giving up way too early.
There wasn't even hot chocolate - for some reason the usual concession wasn't open today. I'm telling you, there's nothing more disheartening than hobbling to a bench, your skates slung over your shoulder and your toes completely numb, knowing that you're a complete failure at the Canadian pastime...and then, being unable to drown your sorrows in a good hot chocolate. It's a good thing that not one person took up my invitation to a skate & a hot chocolate; they'd've felt pretty betrayed to find no chocolate after braving the wicked headwind swooping down the subway platform.
me & J, 4 years ago.
(It was okay - after the Boy finished up his hour with the rental skates, we walked the 5 or so blocks to Le Commensal and loaded up on hot vegetarian entrées. There are few things more comforting than the self-righteousness and tofu of a solid vegetarian meal.)
The Boy & I wandered around Yonge Street for the rest of the afternoon, finding solace in bookstores and tights that say 'slut' over and over. ("There's something for casual Friday," said the Boy.) It was the first weekend in a long time that we haven't used the car to insulate ourselves from the streets. Today we let chance guide our feet, and it was very good. I feel so...old skool.
On Friday I weighed myself and was somewhat baffled to see that I'd gone down 5 pounds. Today, with all of my skating layers on, I've rebounded up 9 pounds. I'm almost afraid to see what I weigh without the clothes. Dinner was pizza with feta & mozzarella cheese, sunflower seeds, almonds & garlic. I love my diet. :)
Me: "I haven't lost any weight."
The Boy: "You eat cheese at every meal."
