October 29: Farmers

Oy vey, October!

I haven't fallen off the wagon. November will be a time of reflection. Didn't Ernest Hemingway say that in order to write about life, first you must live it? I've been going the way of Heming, but my blog will soon again go the way of me.

Without further ado, this mild Monday:

1. Artists: Friendly peeps, served with delicious crackers and baby carrots alongside spicy and non-spicy hummus at a kitchen roundtable.

2. Creatives: Dinner with a friendly stranger sharing his unique hyphenated name story, a free film pass and other nuggets of imagination.

3. Farmers: On the subway, conversation all the way to the west end with two sweetie-pies from St. Catherines. Who really were farmers. Who were adorable young men. Who thought I was in college. Which I'm not. Which was flattering.

September 19: Childhood

1. Julia and her nephew ride in the back of a convertible, holding hands and moving to the music, in beautiful sunny September.

2. Julia walks by her childhood home for the first time in years.

3. Julia walks by the old neighbours' homes and sees the young boy she used to babysit. He's not six anymore - he is a handsome young man!

August 7: Romeo

1. ‘All the world's a stage’ – A woman was pacing through the streets calling out over and over, ‘Romeo!’ I'm not making light of it; it was beautiful.

2. ‘And all the men and women merely players’ – There really are good-looking gardeners all over suburbia.

3. ‘They have their exits and their entrances’ – I left the house late; I arrived at work early.

‘AND...
...one man in his time plays many parts’ – Thanks to my dad, who scanned Sunday’s Letraset. I added some colour and am quite pleased. Click here to view the result.

June 16: Wonderful

1. My nephew, my brother and I reworked the lyrics to ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ in all kinds of strange and wonderful ways.

2. I learned about the strange and wonderful ways of squids and that even though they may look angry, they are sad - and beautiful.

3. A neighbour at the grocery store directed me to some strange and wonderful frozen soy desserts (in lieu of ice cream).

May 20: Sunlight

1. Izzy waxed poetic about laundry, which got my mojo going!
2. My neighbour topped up my last cap of detergent. With that, 5.5 caps turned into six loads of laundry.
3. The Rag Bag was born. Shabby straps do not a pyjama make.

May 2: Neighbours

1. On campus, I bumped into some old faces, met some new ones and received an invite to an alumni party.
2. My long-awaited print job - hallelujah! - had a nice colour and finish. My scanning was largely successful.
3. I shared a cab with a woman going in my direction. Then a neighour let me in at 2am (I was keyless again).

So many good things happened, I forgot that the soles of my feet were burning in my cheap heels, that the cab driver was irate with us or that I seem to be getting early-onset alzheimer's, always losing my keys and passcards.

April 25: Value

1. Values: sexy, articulate, creative men everywhere.
2. Valuable insight and inspiration at industry events.
3. An email offering work, making me feel valued.

And Charlie, my sweetheart elderly neighbour. I will write a separate post for him tomorrow. Right now, a cold beer in the freezer and good night . . .

April 11: TTC

I love public transit! Why?

1. Incredibly good use of time: sleeping, reading, writing, texting, relaxing, gearing up, winding down...

2. Rich and sometimes wildly entertaining material: visual and aural candy, stimulation, stories, ideas...

3. Bumping into old friends, neighbours, acquaintances: even if it's not welcome, you deal with it (or get off at the next stop).

We also have a neat little tradition in Toronto, as I see it. Some call it litter, but I emphatically disagree. We leave our newspapers behind for the next person (we even ask each other for certain sections, in rare moments of communication). I can't bear to toss printed material - I like to see people reading!

Bonus: Charlie

Charlie made my day and I made his. He is the elderly gentleman in the wheelchair who is my neighbour. He and his wife knew my grandparents; he helped my ill grandfather. Today I said hi. His face lit up! He told me that I might laugh, but that our five minutes were like an injection of medicine. How the four walls at home hate him so much and don't want him to get up or out. How it's lonely. How talking to someone else, even for a minute, makes all the difference. Nothing I was busy doing mattered as much. Five minutes.