What did I eat today?
Toast, Coffee, Soup, Yogurt, Apple Pie, Waikiki Meatballs and Fried Rice, and a Banana.
There's no promise the 18 Raspberry Muffins cooling on the kitchen table are going to make it through the night unscathed.
It wasn't sunny today - it was rainy, all day long, so I didn't have the motivation to go exploring. I discovered Breehy was hiding in her room with an incredibly flat front tire - here we go again. Now I have to find her another self-sealing tube before I go long (or short) distance again.
Now I'm going to cheat. I so want to get back into my writing, but it seems I've reached a terrible block - I've copied a post from Tamar's Day Off from long ago, when I could write about more than just what I ate
Tamar Does Broadway - March 2012
I was having a nice quiet morning, when BC Transit Lost and Found called me, on my cell phone, to tell me that I had lost said phone on the bus the previous day. Doubting this was true, and questioning the integrity of the lovely woman on the other end, I had to run to my purse and check. Of course, the phone wasn’t there. It was in the face of the caller. If nothing else had persuaded me, the evidence on my call display should have done it. I thanked her kindly, apologized for being so stupid, and told her I would come by on my next day off to pick it up.
Lost and Found is only open Monday to Friday, so I knew this would be a solo trip to Vancouver. I decided to backtrack an outing my hubby and I had done a few weeks before. Since it was shortly after our camera had been stolen, I planned to take our new camera to document some of the things we had noticed on that walk.
So it was on the following Friday, the next day off from my gruelling job, I upped myself from bed nice and early to set out on an adventure. After spending half an hour and turning the house upside down, I finally left without the camera – later I discover it was still in the pocket of Howard’s backpack, patiently waiting either another trip or a visit from our grandkids. So another trip loomed with no way to document it except for words.
The new sky train, The Canada Line, was almost empty at this time of day, as most commuters had already zoomed to Vancouver and were probably at their desks popping out invoices, figuring out what streets to dig up next, and whatever else kept the city buzzing. I didn’t mind not sitting at the front of the car, unlike the young lady who almost knocked over a senior bent over a walker to get to the prize location. Please note I used the word ‘lady’ quite loosely.
Off the Canada Line, a short walk to the old sky train at the Waterfront Station, then it was a short ride to the Lost and Found location at The Stadium Station. Many stairs up, sign for the cell phone, then many stairs down, and another short sky train hop to the next station to Main Street, where I debarked and headed for Broadway.
This Broadway is a busy thoroughfare that travels across Vancouver through both business and residential areas, and an hour or so walking would take me to The Canada Line station for a ride back to Richmond, so I hoisted my bigger than usual purse over my shoulder, and headed ...south? East? I have no idea, really, but I knew I was going in the right direction. Probably.
There was lots of activity here, and quite a few people waiting to cross the street. Sitting on a bus bench near the corner, I noticed Leopard Lady – at least, that’s the name I bestowed on her. A bit more than middle-aged, she slouched under her leopard print hat, her face long and wrinkled as she inhaled the smoke from her cigarette. The leopard print collar of her leather jacket snuggled her neck, and matched her leggings, which were tucked into knee-high boots that sported leopard print cuffs. To complete her ensemble, a tattered leopard print tug-along rested by her feet like an old sad hound.
Running to grab the last of the WALK sign, I crossed the street and continued my walk on the sunny side of Broadway, for some reason singing old show tunes in my head.
Here the business signs were splendid in their colour and variety. A Chinese restaurant claimed a high English Tea service, and Uncle Fatih offered pizza - just two of the many eateries vying for the custom of the hungry pedestrians. One thing I never saw anywhere in the Lower Mainland though, is an Italian restaurant offering falafel or dim sum or curry – I guess Italians, like Newfoundlanders, remain true to their heritage.
Next, I notice a sign in the window of an old heritage house, perched on a rise above the sidewalk. Here a psychic offers her talent – the number is here, call for an appointment, and I question her abilities as a psychic. I shouldn’t have to call, she should know I’m coming and have a pot of coffee brewed, wouldn’t you think?
After a few minutes of houses, I come across a huge gorilla planted in the sidewalk directly in front of me. Fully decked out in military gear, he is actually quite scary looking, and would probably make these crazy fanatics in the Middle East think twice if he were drafted there. However, here he leads a life of peace, I would think, guarding the Gorilla Surplus – Canadian and US Army and Navy Surplus Store. Considering the name, he may indeed own the store, as well as guard it. Dark and not very inviting to my eyes, I considered going in, but just for a moment. At least now I know where to go if I need knives, guns, ammo, night vision glasses, and many pocketed army jackets. The latter is a possibility – we’ll see. At least now I know where people shop when they want to go commando.
Moving along, jotting notes in my little book, I walk into a light pole. What’s the first thing we do when we walk into a light pole? We turn around to see if anyone saw us. Because they would be laughing and then we would have to pretend we hurt ourselves pretty badly, to make them feel bad about laughing. Same kind of thing that happens when we go arse over kettle on a patch of ice in the winter. It’s strange that it’s funny when someone else does it, though, isn’t it?
Not having learned my lesson yet, the thorny hedges on my left snag my sweater as I move along, still jotting. That’s when I learn to stop and write. The plan from now on is Walk and Look, and Stop and Write. Remember that, Grasshopper, and you’ll be okay. And looking back, I discover the notes I took while standing still are actually legible, unlike the scramble of letters that dashed in all directions while I was in motion.
Next I pass the entrance to a walled in school. It must be a private school, big imposing concrete walls. Even the playground doesn’t look like much fun. I imagine the inside probably filled with huge stick-carrying nuns who hate little children. Sometimes my imagination goes wacky, I’m sure it’s a lovely school filled with lovely teachers. Hopefully they can move fast, though, as the children seem to be a bit super – a sign in the driveway says:
CAUTION
CHILDREN
8KM / HR
Now I think that’s pretty fast for children, especially the little ones with short legs. I can usually walk about 3 – 4 miles in an hour, and that usually leaves me puffing and sickly looking.
Passing me on a skateboard is a tall gangly monster of a young man, with enough dreadlock hair to stuff a couch. Corn rows on a pretty head are very nice, but when you see masses of mats one inch thick almost standing out from one’s scalp, it makes you wonder how the hell do they wash it. I can see the water just pouring over the outside, while all the bugs and tiny mice scamper for the nests they have built in the more sheltered regions. Shiver. I hope he stays away from the thorny hedges lining the sidewalk.
Now I pass an Authentic Eritrea and Ethiopian Restaurant. Guess I still have a lot to learn. I don’t even know where Eritrea is, assuming it is a place, and as far as Ethiopia is concerned, I would have thought a lot of their food was sent from here in the first place. Maybe they sell pizza. I hope I’m not insulting anyone who’s reading this. I’m just trying to be funny, and sometimes it’s really hard work
Somewhere along the way, East Broadway turned into West Broadway. I’m not sure how that happened, how one minute I can be walking east, and the next step walking west. I guess that’s why city planners are paid the big bucks, to figure out something like that.
Cool things here – malls, shops, cafes, just big city stuff, more people, more cars. A little stop-over in the VGH Thrift Store to grab a few books, which was the reason I brought a larger than usual purse, and I continue my stroll. Coming up is a bridal shop with the most beautiful colourful mural in Vancouver painted on the side – well, what the heck is this. A brand new Fat Burger joint is being built two inches away from this mural. Thanks, city planners. Thanks, Fat Burger fatheads, for taking away this piece of art.
Muttering, hopefully under my breath, with all thoughts of show tunes gone bye bye, I finally reach the entrance to the Canada Line station at Cambie. Now rush-hour busy, I settle my feet for a 25 minute ride to Richmond, and an uneventful end to my day.
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