Happy Birthday, Emma!

Big Ottawa Birthday Shout-Outs must be made to my friend (and now quasi-sister... long story) Emma! Not only is this the tenth anniversary of Emma's 16th birthday, it is also her champagne birthday! I am doubly sad I am missing it... and not just for the booze.

Emma and I have been friends for a long time as you may be able to discern from the photo evidence provided. Because we have matching bowl-cuts, you may not be able to tell who is who: Emma is on the right sporting a jaunty, ET-themed sweatshirt and properly-fitting, properly-applied, drawstring pants. I am on the left, in a complete, Strawberry-Shortcake ensemble. Sadly, this picture was taken before I learned how to put pants on straight or to select a size that don't scream "flood".

5 cool things about M-ah:

1. Emma knows everything about movies and television. Who acted, who directed, who got sick one day and filled in for the third boom guy from the right. She is the only person I can have an intelligent conversation about BtVS with. She is FONT of knowledge. She even knows who I mean when I say "you know that movie, with that guy, that we saw in someone's basement"... I think she can read minds.
2. Emma has a terrific memory. She knows what the hell we did when we were little whereas I have almost no recollection of anything before 3rd grade. Again with the font.
3. Emma is smart and ambitious. She went out and got herself an awesome job at a very cool place that seems a perfect fit for her. They think so, too, as there is talk that she will be moving up in the organization. Soon she will be running a media empire and controlling the airwaves... and our thoughts... no...I may have said too much...
4. One word: Noggin.
5. Emma is the best kind of friend. She is super-nice, supportive, wickedly sarcastic, jaunty, funny ha-ha, and loyal. She didn't kill me when we lived for a year in a dorm together, or in the 3 years after that when we rented a house together. This makes her a candidate for sainthood. Now she's a Brideslave, er maid for me.

I couldn't ask for a better sister-friend.

Have a great day, Emma - sorry I can't be there in a non-blog form with you! Joey and I send our love.

Cold + Dark + Wet

Um, yeah. So the last time I checked I'm not living in the Arctic Circle. So why does it get dark here at 4:30 pm? Riiiiight. The super-darkness would not even be that bad... if it weren't for the rain... and the recent temperature drop.

I grade the weather an F.

Boooooo.

Listening to: "Cold+Dark+Wet" by Greg Brown

Invasion of Bay Street

And so, interview week (and by "week" I mean three-day extravaganza) is over. These are the follow-ups to the on-campus interviews (OCIs) mentioned in the last post. In this round, you actually go to the law firms in Toronto and have interviews there.

Becky and I drove down to Toronto in our rented Chevy Impala, affectionately referred to as the "land boat". Joey practically had a luxury suite to himself in the back seat!

The process is wild. I probably met about 50 different lawyers within three days, ran around all over Bay Street, and got wined and dined (went to Canoe!) Very fun but also very exhausting - on Monday I was "on" between 8 am and 10 pm, then wrote thank you emails until 1 am...

I was incredibly fortunate to have four interviews. Three of the interviews went very well. One went very, very badly - basically it ended me being unceremoniously ejected after 30 minutes of a 90 minute interview. Ask me about it the next time you see me...

On "call-day", I accepted a summer job with a big, Bay Street law firm. Hoorah! It is likely that I will then article there and, if things go well, get hired on as an associate. The Firm is a fantastic place. I was so impressed with how genuine everyone was and how much this firm invests in their lawyers. It is a place that I think I could actually stay at and be happy for the long-term.

Looks like there is an off-ramp exiting the land of law debt! Marco certainly seems to think so... he has already requested a BMW. However, Joey needs to be fully outfitted in a burberry wardrobe before we can even think of that... ;-)

Exuberating Fantasticism

Well, the OCIs (on-campus interviews) are done. I did NOT:

• fall down
• throw up
• have "robot face"
• tote around a ratty backpack

The results aren't in but I am relatively confident that if I don't get any in-firm interviews, it will not be because of an Interview Disaster.

Also made the moot team. Mooty-mooty-mooty-mooty-mooty...

Joey currently has no health concerns (miraculous in itself).

My building has a new front door so it's not constantly unlocked (because, hey, why fear a home invasion when you can just invite one?)

I EXUBERATE FANTASTICISM!!!

Actually, I fear things may be going just a little too well. When things go well, something has to happen to mess it up. That is The Way of El Mundo. However, I feel I may be saved from the inevitable bad luck that follows a spate of good luck since I found out today that my balcony is likely to fall down. It's a bit leany. Correction: a lot leany. There is talk (among two French construction guys) of installing a support beam of considerable heft to prevent the aforementioned collapse.

Never has shoddy construction been so well-timed. Thank you, Mr. Balcony for saving me from myself.

I'm a Criminamologist!

Move over CSI (and CSI Miami and similar spin-offs): there's a new criminamologist* in town... me!

I have enrolled myself in forensics, to study the exciting field of criminamology**. I will be able to answer those burning questions you may have regarding if that crap you see on TV is true.

In this class, we get an expert guest speaker to speak on each of the following topics:

Fingerprints

Pathology and the Coroner's Office

Bloodstain Pattern Analysis

Firearms and Ballistics

Toxicology

Forensic Psychiatry

High Technology Crime

DNA

Polygraph

Documents and counterfeiting

In the polygraph class, a fellow classmate is hooked up to the polygraph machine. For toxicology, student volunteers booze it up before class... to find out their blood alcohol levels, I assume. I am assured that there are no similar demonstrative aspects to the firearms or bloodstain pattern classes...

Why aren't all my classes this interesting?

* totally different from "criminologist". Criminamologists wear jauntier hats and knit.
** totally different from "criminology". Criminamologists booze it up and go to classes. And knit.

Sleepy Hollow Cottage

Greetings loyal readership! Marco and I have just returned to civilization from our weekend away in Sleepy Hollow (on the corner of Sleepy Hollow Road and Ichabod Line - really!) near the booming metropolis of Blenheim, on the scenic shores of Lake Erie! This was a different kind of cottage experience for us - usually we travel North or East and it was nice to see Western Ontario (ie: the flat part of the province) for a change.

We mostly just lounged around but we had one "big outing," which generated much excitement from the trunk bunnies, (below): we travelled to Rondeau Provincial Park - the second-oldest provincial park in Ontario. Being lazy and in vacation-mode, Marco, the lads and I selected the "Tulip Tree Trail" to explore: a 1.4 km path designed for children and the elderly. The "trail" was extremely easy and was populated by numerous boardwalks. This made for a delightful stroll rather than a sweaty, outward-bound, eat-your-neighbour-if-you-must kind of hike. Disturbingly, Marco thought the Tulip Tree Trail was a somewhat strenuous wilderness experience. My dream of a couple's canoe trip died a quick, painful death.

Being the sort that loves competition, any competition, I entered this photo in the "Rondeau Park Photo Contest"... we'll see what happens... perhaps fabulous riches (or the cover of the Fall tabloid, whatever that is) will be mine...

The weather was perfect, the cottage (above) was beautiful, roomy, and super-clean, and the people we rented from were extremely nice and helpful. Marco and I spent most of our time relaxing on the screened-in porch which you can see at the front of the cottage, going swimming in Lake Erie, and walking around the area which featured cherry orchards, wooded trails, and vineyards. Sleepy Hollow is unique but a property student's nightmare - while there are distinct property lines, everyone just kind of walks everywhere. For example, we had to cross over our neighbour's property and descend 99 steps down a cliff to get to the beach.

The beach itself was the only thing we weren't crazy about - lots of refuse (sticks, dead things like the fish head Rocky found, some garbage) and the water was a tad too choppy. However, what it lacked in ambiance it made up for in privacy - we were the only ones on the beach for miles.

While Marco and I thought the beach was mediocre, some of us adored it:

However, not all was well in Sleepy Hollow:

A certain member of the travelling team was a wee bit defiant about the gross indignity (and hideous outfit) involved in his first swim and didn't hesitate to share that with us:
However, I am nothing if not stubborn... stubborn and cheap; that Outward Hound life jacket was $30 and it was going to be used, at least once, dammit! So, against his will, with a dramatic air of resigned defiance, Joey held his nose, thought of England, and was escorted to the lake:
It was there that the hideous, Unspeakable Trauma occurred, the stuff of which is shocking for even the hardened counsellors at the abused pug hotline. (Note: watch the back feet, too!)



Hey, was that German supermodel Heidi Klum holding Joey? What's she doing there? Weird! Anyway, following The Horrible Incident of Which We Shall Not Speak, and after his dramatic stagger onto the beach like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, the Position of Protest was assumed:

As punishment for our evil ways, we were forced to endure The Face for the rest of the afternoon:

The next day, Joey progressed to Full Protest Mode and stubbornly refused to come within 100 feet of the water:

However, aside from the puggy 'tude (and likely an impending legal action) the weekend was a great success. Marco and I are even more determined to buy a cottage, and Joey is plotting to crap in my Franco Sarto's when I'm least expecting it.

Pug Island!

Ahoy Mateys!

Greetings from Pug Island! After much cajoling, I finally managed to get Marco to a Pugalug Club event! WTF is a pugalug, you ask?

Pugalug Club is a non-profit corporation entirely run by volunteers. "Pugalugs" are gatherings of pugs and pug lovers. Every month, we pugalug to help support the many costs involved in rescue.

Our mission is, to the best of our ability, help a pug in need who is surrendered to us; to provide the medical care, loving attention, comfort, food, companionship and a forever home to rest their heads at night.

Now that we're all jiggy with the lingo, this Pugalug, Pug Island, is much like it sounds: a bunch of people and the pugs that own them get on the ferry and go to Ward's Island for good, ole-timey puggy fun. Click HERE to see the group shot.

Joey had much fun on the ferry...

... and with his new friend Rogue, owned by Emma's cousin, Sarah:

Joey was a bit of a treat whore and spent most of his time visiting with the people instead of playing with the pugs. As a result, he is in MANY pictures on the website. Check it out HERE. (Especially check out #32!) Eventually, Daddy had enough and someone had to be physically brought back to the "family blanket":

However, it seems that we didn't catch him in time. Someone did a little too much visiting and then rudely vomited at Roberto's first birthday party following the island event. However, overall, a fun, although admittedly geeky time was had by all!

This Blog Brought to You By the Class, "G"

Get your babies off the road and stay indoors: I am now an official, fully licensed driver. Yes, friends, I finally have my G class license.



I am also pleased to report that I took the G test on the above standard car. This means that the test was harder - they actually deduct marks for things like coasting out of gear, and for revving/lugging the gears. Cumulatively, these errors can add up to enough bad mojo to result in an F on your permanent record. Thus, this also means I am even more shiny and special than usual.

The license aquisition process took a tad bit longer for me than for most since for years, I never had an automobile to practice on. Observe:

Me: Can I borrow the car? I have to practice my driving.
Parent: No.
Me: Why not? Are you going somewhere?
Parent: Well, no...
Me: Well, why can't I borrow the car, then?
Parent: But what if I have to go somewhere? If you have the car, I'll be stranded.
Me: But we live less than 2 blocks from the subway. And I have a cell phone. How will you be stranded?
Parent: The subway?!?! I can't ride the subway.
Me: So, you're not letting me borrow the car not because you need it but because there is a minute possibility you may need it if an exceptional circumstance arises in the next hour or so that requires you to travel via car and in which all the cell phone networks simultaneously go down and you can't reach me and tell me to come home?
Parent: I'm glad you understand.

And so on and so forth.

In any case, now I can do exciting things like rent cars and drink (a bit) and then drive... not that I'm going to do either of those things, but a girl likes to have options.

Invasion of the Law Friends

Since virtually everyone I know has seen fit to leaveslashabandon me at the same time (California, England, Germany, Southhampton, Poland, somewhere up north) my law friends have converged on Toronto to rescue me from my own crapulence (ie: reading R. v. Wholesale Travel Group Inc. all day...)

Last Saturday my good buddy Tanya came to town. After a brief jaunt around the Annex, where I bought The Red Evlises ' "I Wanna See You Bellydance" CD, (click HERE to listen to the title track - AWESOME!!!), we met up with Martha and risked possible parasitic infection at our favourite $5.99 sushi lunch place, recently reopened after a fire. (What catches fire at a sushi restaurant???) Please enjoy my jaunty "pugs not drugs" t-shirt, which a certain US Marshal may remember from such security stops as The Great Laptop Fiasco of May 23. Free advice: novelty t-shirts do not give one any street cred with security peeps at US airports, even if they espouse wholesome, anti-narcotic messages.

It was especially good seeing Tanya not only because she rocks but because I could give her her long overdue birthday gift, this fabulous mug, designed by the internationally pugnacious designer, Just Joey:

Here is a close-up. Small type: Happy berfday, Auntie Tanya! I like ham but I love you! Love, Joey (and Mom, too).

The (short) back story on the mug is that a certain person, let's call her Tania, overestimated her Jell-o shooter tolerance on a certain Irish beer-drinking holiday. I had told Tania that Joey didn't like beer (mainly because he threw up on the futon after having some.) Tania, in her altered state, thought that was an extraorindary coincidence since she didn't like beer, either. Imagine the odds! However, both her and Joey liked sausages and had been eating them off the pizza we had ordered. Thus, the little ditty on the mug was sung for the first time. It has since been oft-repeated.

Joey came up with the mug concept all on his own (although I think he was a little too pleased about the full-frontal aspect of the design) and did all his own photoshopping. Although the keyboard is now clogged with fur and pug snot, it was worth it for Auntie Tanya.

After lunch, we hit The Ydessa Hendeles Art Foundation. This is a little-known art gallery in Toronto on King West that has some very unusual, and eclectic, exhibits. There was some Nazi zeppelin china (creepy), a pair of Gucci shoes, a collection of mother goose items, and some very bizarre sculptures, such as "ovaries" below:

Overall, a very cool experience and only $4. It is good to be a tourist in your own city, I should do it more often. Afterwards, we met up with Tanya's cousin at Czehoski and had a drink before I had to go.

Today, Kate and company came to visit! I don't have any pictures of Kate's visit (Mr. Camera is in Germany) but I have an exciting confirmation for the Ottawa portion of my blog readership: I finally met the elusive Thanos, Kate's boyfriend. Yes, people. In. The. Flesh. Now, Kate is awesome but before this visual sighting, there had been significant "talk", shall we say, among the law gals regarding the supposed existence (or lack thereof) of Thanos:

Kate: "Thanos is coming up this weekend."
Me: "Oh, good, I'll get to meet him. Finally"
Kate: a few days later. "Yeah, Thanos can't make it this weekend."

Lather, rinse, and repeat about 5 times and you have the basis for a little nugget of doubt. But, at the risk of disappointing Robert Stack, this visual sighting confirms Thanos' existence beyond a reasonable doubt, and that is a very high, official, law-talkin', standard of proof so therefore it must be true.

Kate, Thanos, Kate's friend Mel and I had a great lunch at Lone Star before she headed back to Mel's.

All in all, an excellent two weekends with two very wicked law buds.

Rocky Returns

And like so many poorly-crafted Sylvester Stallone movies, so goes my life: Rocky is back.

You may remember Rocky from such surgeries as this past Christmas' $2000 knee-blow out.

For anyone who doesn't know, Rocky is our golden retriever. After the aforementioned holiday season knee explosion, Rocky was sent away to convalesce at a family friend's house in Hamilton in which there are no stairs.

His extended stay was also sort of like fat-camp for him since it enabled him to lose an obscene fifty pounds. Yes, he was a fat dog but it wasn’t totally his (or our) fault. His roundness was largely due to a hypo-thyroid problem. Now, I’m no vet but I also suspect that his girth may have been influenced by a certain grandma feeding him hungry man TV dinners... riiiiiiight...

Joey and Rock have not quite bonded yet but they do enjoy mild snuggling, barking at the idiotic wiener dog down the street, and meeting at the trough, below:

Of course, because nothing is easy in life, it's not all sunshine and lollipops. Certain among us (below) are less than thrilled about the Rock's return.

However, the fur isn’t flying and no one has lost an eye so we’re chalking this one up in the win column so far.

Nashville, Day 5

Today was an awesome day. This morning, I headed out to Ju-Ro Stables to do a little horseback riding - yippy ky yay, little dawggies! I called Buddy to come and take me out to the ranch but he was unable to get me so he sent his friend Deter. The ride was long, $41 dollars worth of long, and far outside of Nashville. I brought a map and we took one wrong turn but we ended up finding the stables eventually. I then made arrangments with Deter to come and pick me up at 1:00 pm. Frankly, given the Nashville cab track record, I was afraid that no other cabbie would be able to find this place and I would be lost to Ju-Ro forever if Deter didn't come back. This forced me to place a lot of faith in an ex-pat German cab driver but a cowgirl's gotta do what a cowgirl's gotta do.

As a novice rider, I was placed on Maresy, below, a very nice little horse that was able to tolerate my complete lack of cowgirl ability. The guide, Lewis, taught me how to sit,"steer", and not fall off. Overall, he said I did very well. I say I did friggin' awesome since I didn't fall off, get kicked, or step in horseshit.



It is a LOT harder to stay on and direct the horse than you might think, especially when you're not supposed to hold on to the saddle horn in front of you. It's not like the movies where you just jump on your horse and effortlessly save the girl tied to the railroad tracks. Yes, friends, your legs should do all the balancing work, your hand should hold the reins, and the remaining hand should rest jauntily on your hip. "Steering" was further complicated for me since Maresy had a death wish for the other horse in the group, Cinnamon, and kept turning around to try and bite her face. Riiiiiiight.

What was really unique about Ju-Ro is that they have no set trails - just acres of field, woods, streams that they take the horses through - very, very beautiful country. Another very unique feature is that they let you canter (go fast) on the horse, which many other places do not allow. That was very exciting although my butt is going to pay me back for days to come... The weather was perfect for riding - a nice warm temperature, no clouds in the sky, and miraculously, no bugs at all in the woods. The path was a bit muddy so Maresy kept straying to the edges and as a result I got pretty scratched up but I would go again in a second!



Following the ride, Lewis took pity on me and my cabbing and drove me all the way back to Nashville which saved me a ton of money.

Back at the non-ranch (and by this I mean "hotel") I went grazing at the buffet, wandered downtown a bit, had a shower and then got ready to leave. I was tres dosappointed when a nasty old bus came to drive up to the airport since before we rode in a limousine. But one should not judge a bus by it's cruddy, badly-painted exterior:



On the bus we met Mark, who I now love. Mark was sooooo impressed with our trip planning and organization. He was astounded and amazed that we had fit so much in. He couldn't believe that I had gone horseback riding and said so about five times. I think poor Mark hadn't even found 2nd Avenue (3 blocks away and the major tourist strip) but had remained stuck on Broadway (around the corner) the entire time he was there. We were travelling goddesses to sad, sheltered Mark who tried to share a bad plane story of his own with us which we then trumped by telling him our plane was hit by lightening on the way to Nashville. The final blow was when we told him that we still had one thing to do before we left (get BBQ at Whitt's). This completely blew him away that we even had airport activities planned. I think if we had met him earlier, he would have become the official third member of the Nashville travelling team. He even suggested at the next conference that he would like to join us... and I don't think he was kidding.

The airport experience was very, very poor. Newsflash: homeland security is not my friend. Because I didn't know any better, I put my laptop through the x-ray machine in my laptop backpack. Apparently, the correct procedure is to take the laptop and put it in its own separate bin so it can travel through the machine alone, sans bag. My idiocy pissed off the x-ray lady who then began aggressively searching my bag. She found the following "bad" items: nail file, my plastic baton that lives on my key ring. Now, according to Air Canada rules, these items are allowed on the plane. But Uncle Sam has his own rules.

I had to go and talk to the head of security. Then the head of security called a US marshall. Then I had to surrender my passport and license and they ran a background check on me. Then they informed me that I either had to mail the offending items back to myself (which required going through security again) or surrender them. I opted for option B. The whole time the guard kept asking when my flight was leaving - I seriously thought I wasn't going to make the plane and that I would be in some horrible little back room for questioning by a good ole boy.

The worst part is that due to this incident I might now be subject to a fine of between $500 and $10000 dollars. (No, that is not a typo). If the best case scenario occurs, likely I will only recieve a nasty letter from the FAA about my complete lack of patriotic laptop activity. I will let you know, blog readership, what happens. There may be a "save Adie from a Nashville jail" campaign being launched shortly.

After we had stocked up on crazy at security, we got some Whitt's BBQ, specifically the pulled pork sandwich with coleslaw. Frommer's raved about how good it was and we had made a special point of leaving enough time at the airport to get this thing - but I found it totally disgusting. It was nasty stringy pork on a stale hamburger bun with radioactive coleslaw. Bleck.

The rest of the trip home was completely uneventful. Marco got us at the airport and gave us each a rose (awwww!) and then brought us back to our homes to continue with life slash wait for extradition to a Nashville jail.

And that ends Nashville... all y'all come back now, hear?

Nashville, Day 4

It's Monday and that means, freedom, Willy! Unfortunately, Cindy actually has to work on this trip which means that I am on my own today.

First stop was the Belle Meade plantation,. Belle Meade was built in 1853. The owners, starting with William Harding, made their money primarily in horses. Bonnie Scotland was one of the most famous sires to come out of Belle Meade and almost every horse that won the Kentucky Derby since that time to the present day can trace its lineage back to Bonnie. (Seabiscuit is also a descendant.) If you click on the "Bonnie Scotland" link above, you can see the portrait that hangs in the plantation house today.

I took a tour with the costumed guide through the actual plantation house, below, which was very interesting. One of the cool features of the house is that you can actually wander through most of the rooms - there are no ropes/glass to keep you away from the historical furniture, half of which are the original pieces in the Harding home. Every room was very big with extremely high ceilings and hint at the elegance and wealth that the Southern gentility enjoyed in the late 1800s.

I then toured the grounds and saw the slave log cabin, a smokehouse, creamery, the original cabin that was used by the Hardings before the plantation house was built, the gardens, the carriage house and the masoleum. My only criticism is that it would have been nice had the tour focussed more on the slave experience - that was, ahem, largely left out. The only thing mentioned about the big "S" word was that Harding was a die-hard Confederate who donated half a million to the cause. Boooooooo.

For lunch, I went to eat at Martha's at the Plantation, the on-site restaurant above the gift shop. The food was amazing and I found out that the place had been profiled on Martha Stewart Living. I had tea punch (ice tea with fruit juice in it), herbed chicken salad sandwhich on sourdough, and a side of cheese grits. Grits (always plural, never singular I found out) are like polenta but a lot heavier. For dessert I had the fudge pie with peppermint ice cream, below, (I avoided the deep fried pie even though I was tempted to see how one might fry pie). Everything was fantastic.

After lunch I called a cab and met my new friend, Buddy. Buddy is retired from the army and now drives a cab in Nashville. He is very chatty and gives you an oral history of Nashville as you ride around. Frankly, I learned more about Belle Meade from Buddy than from the guide!!!

Buddy dropped me at my next destination: the Parthenon. Whoa! You say. How did Buddy drive you to Greece that quickly? And how much was that fare? Well, friends, Nashville has its own full-scale replica of the Athens Parthenon. Weird? Of course. Why a Parthenon? Why indeed. Buddy told me it was because Nashville is considered the "Athens of the South" due to the many universities and colleges located in and around the city. I think this is a bit of a stretch but whatever, the Parthenon is cool.

The Parthenon is located in Centennial Park and was built for the Tennessee Centennial Exposition of 1867. The first Parthenon was only meant to be temporary so it was essentially constructed of cardboard, styrofoam, pixie dust, and prayer. But it was so popular that between 1921-31 the city re-built a new, permanent buidling. Unfortunately, because I saw it on Monday when it was "closed", I did not get to see the 42 foot tall statue of Athena inside that is gilded with 8 pounds of real gold leaf. However, I did get to see the bronze doors, each of which weigh 7.5 tons/door, and which are the largest matching bronze doors in the world. I can now die happy!

When I was done being all Greek, I called Buddy and he took me to Opry Mills, the giant shopping complex located near the Grand Ole Opry. It was eeee-normous. I did a little shopping at Fossil and came across some very cute pug shirts, which of course I tried on and did a little "self-snap" of. (I am such a nerd!) And I may have bought one.... ;-) (CAUTION: soft porn below!!!)

Inside the mall, they also have a stingray petting zoo thing, and a Aquarium restaurant, below, that has an enormous fish tank so people can watch the very cool fish as they eat.


After single-walletedly supporting the Nashville cab industry, I went back to the hotel and met back up with C-dog. We had the obligatory, daily soaky-soak in the hot tub and then went back to the hotel room where we remained prone for the rest of the night. In fact, we only emerged to go down the street to get some crappy food. We spent the rest of the night packing and watching our new favourite show, Hogan Knows Best. Oh yes, this evening I was also mercilessly mocked for taking this amazing picture of the sunset from our hotel window. Some people just have no appreciation for fine art.

Nashville, Day 3

Hello my blog peeps!

Today was American Consumerism day! We started off the day with a little trip to Tar-jay. Disaster almost struck because the cabbie didn’t know where it was even though it was only 20 minutes away from downtown. Actually, it seems like none of the cabbies know where anything is outside of downtown and Opryland. What up wit dat? We had to bring a map, then we got directions, then he had to call his dispatch. In the end it all worked out and he didn’t overcharge us so we can’t complain too loud.

Tar-jay has many wondrous and varied things: cowboy hats, cheapy-cheapy-almost-free clothes, dog clothes (!!!!), etc. I picked up a cowboy hat, a skirt, a prezzie for Marco and a little sumpin’ sumpin’ for J-dog. Buwahahahaha!

Following the shopping extravaganza, we headed over to our favourite American chain restaurant: the Beloved Olive Garden. It was a sad, dark day when they left Canada. Remember the breadsticks? And the endless salad? Of course you do. Who is not haunted by the gaping void the OG’s departure created? The food lived up to our expectations. I decided to go with a classic, the tour of Italy, while Cindy opted for the more conservative chicken parmesan. Delicious!

After a brief stop back at the hotel, the next stop was the Country Music Hall of Fame. Very well organized museum with lots of interesting pieces, including: Johnny Cash’s guitar, Elvis’ gold-leafed Cadillac, one of Loretta Lynn’s ball gowns, and a special collection featuring Ray Charles that included the electric piano that he toured with and a Braille copy of Playboy (lending some weight to the idea that it really is about the articles???)


After the museum, we were pretty beat so we watched the intellectual equivalent of pre-chewed food: Hogan Knows Best. A reality show featuring Hulk Hogan and his family. Only in America. All I can say is that Hulk Hogan needs to stop wrestling RIGHT NOW before he has to get another body part replaced or another series of injections directly into his spine. Seriously.

Like the trip to Tar-jay, the cab trip to the dinner restaurant did not go so well either. Again, the cabbie had no idea where the restaurant was even though it wasn’t even 10 minutes from downtown. After driving in a circle for a while and calling the restaurant, we finally located the Mad Platter. It was worth the wait. The food was excellent. The restaurant itself is located in an old brick corner store in a historic neighbourhood of restored Victorian houses. Inside, bookshelves filled with books and copies of National Geographic line one of the walls. Right now, it is also displaying works by Hendron (?) one of Nashville’s most famed artists. There were a few of his “flower” works but many more of his “guitar” series.

The best part of dinner was that because it was their slow season, we had the restaurant entirely to ourselves. Very celebrity-esque. We got to get up and walk around whenever we wanted and had the complete attention of the very personable waitress. The food was delicious and the dessert, their famed “Chocolate Elvis,” a chocolate-y cake-like thing, was decadent!

After dinner we met up with a vendor that Cindy knows at B.B. King’s Blues Club. The 8-person live band was amazing and it was really nice to have a break from the country scene. Authentic blues music is awesome live. I got to meet a local guy, John, and two jokers on vacation (one from New Brunswick and one from Ireland) who wanted to know where we were going to be tomorrow and who said my glasses were “cute”… riiiiiiight…

Overall, a very good day in the city where no cabbie knows how to get anywhere.

Nashville, Day 2

Hello loyal blog following! Day 2 in Nashville started off a bit slow. It seems the downtown of Nashville is an abandoned ghetto-ville until around, oh, say, 8:00 pm. Consequently, breakfast-related places are few and far between. Thus, starting the day with The Quest for a Starbuck’s ended poorly, with us going back to our hotel to eat.

Post-refueling, we re-started the day with much better results. We saw: the Ryman Auditorium (former home of the Grand Ole Opry); the 2nd avenue historic district (Wildhorse Saloon, BB King’s); Broadway avenue; Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge and Legends, both former hotspots for singers at the Ryman Opry; Ernest Tubb Record Shop; Gruhn Guitars; and the Gaylord Entertainment Centre (horrible name!). Everything was a tad grungy and many buildings were unoccupied. In fact, all day we kept noticing the city was virtually abandoned except for homeless people. It seems that no one actually lives in Nashville – they all drive in from the surrounding regions. Kind of weird when you’re used to the crowding of Toronto.

Next, we detoured and had a look through the Frist Center for the Visual Arts housed in the historic US Post Office building. Inside, a number of galleries were under construction, but we saw two exhibits – one of American silver dishes and another of impressionist art. The highlight was a Monet water lily painting. Sadly, no pictures. I was practically subjected to a body cavity search by an overly polite but militant guard when I showed up embodying their worse nightmare: two cameras (film and a digital), a backpack, and a bottle of water. Consequently, I had to behave myself inside and take no pics – the art gallery popo was everywhere.

Next door to the art gallery is the Union Station Hotel. Built in 1900, this hotel was Nashville’s main passenger railroad station and was renovated in 1986 into a luxury hotel. Beautiful interior, full or Tiffany stained-glass windows. They also still have railway artifacts in the lobby such as the train schedule board behind the check-out counter.

Following the Union Station Hotel, it was off across the street to the LifeWay Christian Store. I have never seen so much god-paraphernalia in one place. The place was massive. Among my favourite items: bible decorations (1. choose a cover, 2. select a bible, 3. accessorize!); the “full armour of god” plastic crusade outfit for kids that is advertised as a “Christian character-building costume” that has “righteousness” emblazoned on the breastplate; and a neon “open” sign in the form of a Jesus fish. Joey, we’re not in Canada anymore.

Off to Americana central: The legislative plaza, the War Memorial Building, the Tennessee State capital. Amercians are big on war memorials and war, come to think of it. Vietnam, Korea, WWII.

After a brief detour through Walgreen’s and Dollar General (for price-checking, a work-related activity for Cindy) we had afternoon tea in the lobby of the Hermitage Hotel. The Hermitage is Nashville’s last grand hotel, built in 1910 in the beaux-arts style. Re-opened in 2003 after and 18 million dollar restoration the lobby is filled with marble columns, gilded plasterwork, and a stained-glass ceiling. Beautiful and very expensive to actually stay in. The tea (peach and ginger) was very good, sandwiches were OK (a bit stale and Cindy didn’t warn me that the ham sandwich was of the ham-in-a-can variety, so I am harbouring a secret grudge now since she didn’t stop me from eating it).

After some apart-time when Cindy went to the dreaded J-Y-M (gym) and I posted the first blog, we went for a little soaky-soak in the hotel hot tub and a very brief swimmy-swim in the hotel pool.

For dinner, we went to Mirror, a fusion restaurant and ultra-hip bar. Metallic furniture, pale blue walls, and gauze curtains define the “casual chic setting.” Cindy and I ordered tapas so we were able to sample a number of different things. The food was pretty good but overall it was a bit of hit (crab cakes, Caesar salad) and miss (jerk chicken). One of the better items was the bruschetta with roasted red pepper instead of tomato, and the white chocolate dessert soup.

Next, off to “boot scoot” in the District at the Wildhorse Saloon! The largest dance floor in Nashville. We did a bit of line dancing to the live band even though we seemed to be the only ones who did not know the dances. Interestingly, whereas the song “Cotton-Eyed Joe” clears the dance floor in Toronto, in Nashville it starts a frenzy!

After that, we hit Coyote Ugly where a group of barely-dressed coyotes (“is she wearing underwear???” “I’m not sure…”) danced on the bar and humiliated male patrons. Even though a scary man wanted Cindy and me to dance on the bar, sadly, we did not, nor did we contribute our bras to the hundreds of bras thrown over the clothesline stretching across the bar. Opportunity: lost. Reputations: intact.

***Note: sorry for the lack of pictures. The internet is very unreliable here!

Nashville, Day 1

• Met Castro, a delightful US customs agent at the Toronto Airport who tried to tell Cindy she should start buying “Chinese toilets” (toilets that are in ground and therefore “flush” with the floor) that are easier for disabled people to use. Since he’s the customs man, and we were a captive, dependent audience, we had to chat about this fascinating topic for about 15 minutes while trying not to look at our watches.
• Met a REAL cowboy in the boarding area waiting room. Called us “ma’am”, had a twangy accent, called his “mama” on his cell phone (seriously!).

• Plane trip uneventful… oh yeah, until the plane was hit by lightening!!!! Actually just sounded like a thump but still, kind of freaky.
• Checked into out hotel, ran to Grand Ole Opry!

• Met some new friends
  

• Awesome show! During the show, was informed of the amazing products of the Opry’s sponsors, the Cracker Barrel, Martha White cornbread mix, the Tupelo Elvis Festival, and Vietti Chili.
  
• After the Opry, walked through the amazing Opryland Hotel. 2883 rooms. 3 indoor atria covered by more than 8 acres of glass form greenhouses of tropical plants. Indoor streams, waterfalls, bridges, pathways, ponds, fountains. Had a drink at Jack Daniel’s Saloon. (Cindy doesn’t know him well enough yet to call him “John” but we’re getting there.)
  
• Back to the hotel. Collapse.

Making Friends in Toronto

Back to the Big Smoke

Hello Loyal Blog Following!

2 tupperware boxes, 1 suitcase full of "shoe friends", 6 hours, and $100 dollars in gas later, J-Dog and I have arrived back in Toronto where we were greeted with a welcome home cake and present! We will be here for the duration of the summer where Joey will continue his own projects (yogurt appreciation, heat avoidance, becoming the subject of feline "beatdowns") and I will:

1. Reluctantly return to my Favourite Community College in a futile attempt to reverse the state of affairs in the Land of Law Debt;
2. Do a little research on third wave feminism and the law and criminal law/regulatory/constitutional issues;
3. Plan the Event/Fracas of the Century (our wedding);
4. Apply to law firms for summer positions for next year (deadline in early September!!!)
5. Give the verb "to loaf" new life.

In happy news related to #4, I got some marks back and so far Mr. Brain was able to pull through on 3 of the 5 finals I wrote. It remains to be seen if mental failure occured on the other 2. Significantly, the Property train is still careening towards its final destination. However, it doesn't look like I will have to film a commercial in which I ask "have you been injured in an accident?" anytime soon.

Stay tuned beginning May 19 for exciting blog updates from two broads abroad: Cindy and I are hell bent and Nashville bound. Guitar city may not be ready for us but we are ready for it: Frommer's has made another sale and the itinerary of fun has been researched, written, and printed. Scheduled fun with a country flair. The general plan of action is to continue the "sleep when you're dead" model of "vacationing" and see/do as much as humanly possible in as short a time as possible. Yee-haw!

Tonight, I reunite with my Toronto peeps (friends, not marshmallow candies.) Let the Summer Calendar of Fun planning commence!!!

Oohhhhh Nooooooooo...

Disregard last blog entry. In its place, please reference the following pictorial representation of property exam:

Second Thoughts

"The contrast between vested and contingent interests can be shown by returning to the fee simple subject to a condition subsequent and the companion concept, the right of re-entry. That type of fee is vested, but it may be lost (or divested) if the condition is breached. The right of re-entry is subject to a condition precedent, namely, the violation of the condition; therefore it is contingent. Only a fiction precludes the same analysis in relation to a determinable interest followed by the possibility of reverter. The determinable fee is vested. The possibility of reverter would logically (!) appear to be contingent, just as the right of re-entry, but a different view has prevailed in Canada. The determining event is regarded as marking a natural limitation of the estate granted and not as imposing a super-added condition. This means the possibility of reverter is treated as being vested at common law."

P.S. April 24 - happily in terms of exam-writing purposes (but ever-so unhappily in many, many other ways) I now actually understand the above. Three cheers for conditional transfers and the rule against perpetuities!

Return of the Lamb Blanket!

This being the exam season it only makes sense to start a major knitting project. Enter: return of the lamb blanket!

(It's a sequel because this is the second lamb set I have made - the first was for the handsome Roberto, official lamb gear model, shown above.)

I am going international with this set - it is being sent to a lucky kid in Brazil!

The blanket itself is fun to make - but putting the actual lambs on it is a pain in the lamb-pants. This is because the lambs are all duplicate-stitched (basically embroidered) after the blanket is done. And to avoid scaring the darling children with amputee lambs, all the lambs need to have a face, a body, and two feet. That means each of the 14 lambs has 8 ends to be worked in... I think you can smell what I'm cooking here: many fun-filled hours of stitching.

I call the blanket "Counting Sheep" which I give myself props for thinking up. Boo. Yah.

The name I thought up for the little matching hat, on the other hand, was not as well-recieved: "Mutton Helmet". While I think it's hilarious, there are those who think it's gross. Go figure.

So, blog readership, I will be very open to any bright hat-naming ideas that don't involve the "M" word.

Bienvenue, Teddy!

Oh. Baby. I can practically hear "Stayin' Alive" in the background as these two new buds cruise and sniff their way through the neighbourhood.

Joey would like to send a big, pug-dog, neighbourhood shout-out (and doggy bum-sniff) to his new friend, Teddy. Teddy is a rescue Wheaten (from France!!!) that is being fostered by Auntie Rebecca and Uncle Andrew.

Much fun was had by these two buds at the dog park today. Even Joey (who usually only moves if there is a liver treat nearby) got in on the running action with Teddy and the other dogs.

Teddy seems to be settling into his new family really well, despite the language barrier. (Unfortunatley, Teddy only speaks French right now. Seriously. Le chien ne parle pas anglais.)

But Joey told me that Teddy thinks he's a lucky dog to be with such great parents and has consequently abandoned all his plans to escape in the middle of the night, find the Atlantic, and swim back to France. And Joey and I are both very glad about that.