Skip to main content

Happy Saturday!

On Saturday morning (or afternoon, more often) I walk about 20 minutes to a corner store that sells the Saturday Toronto Star for a dollar less than anywhere else around my place. Maybe I'm cheap, maybe I just want an excuse for a walk, but I will go out of my way for a buck. So sue me.

But this morning -- okay, afternoon! -- I first had to stop by the library to pick up a book I had put on hold. There was a line up at the counter, so I did a quick lap around the stacks to kill some time ... and found Dan Brown's new book up for grabs. Yoink! [ed. note: "Yoink!: a sound effect; usually associated with snatching something up with enthusiasm; often accompanied with nefarious moustache twirling."]

Then on my way to the cheap newspaper, I detoured into a lovely garden centre that was in my path. It's a really beautifully set up oasis in the midst of many small, "jack of all trades, master of none" mom n' pop shops that populate the neighbourhood.

Walking around in the outdoor display area felt like I was far from any city indeed.
Just as I was going to enter the city once more, I saw her! She had to be mine! I rushed out to buy my newspaper, then hurried back to the oasis to pick her up before anyone else could get to her first. I spirited her back to my home, cackling maniacally all the way:
Look at her flowers!
Really adds something to my apartment, only the floor of which you can see in the pictures, eh?

I had many more things in my hands upon returning to my apartment than I had intended ... but what a lovely lovely Saturday for me!

Comments

Anonymous said…
sounds like a great saturday morning. that's the cool thing i think about bigger cities is the little neighbourhoods and cool discoveries. like your plant! think i'll head off on a little walk of my own.
jill

Popular posts from this blog

A Picture Puzzler

A friend sent me another picture from the wrap party. As I looked at it, and recalled the good times, I was struck by something really unusual. See if you can spot it: I'll give you all some time to guess...

Batten down the hatches -- we're in it for the long haul!

Given that the weather reports for Edmonton this weekend are grim grim grim (lows of minus 33, highs of minus 25 -- with wind chills of around minus 35 to 40), I woke up early this morning to get all errands for the weekend out of the way in one fell swoop. I barely needed a coat this morning as I headed out to my car to embark on my mission. With each passing hour, the thermometer dipped a degree or twelve. By time I was done driving around (and paused to catch a movie at the neighbourhood googolplex), it was chill-lay outside. I am now snuggly boarded up in my apartment, with no plans to so much as peek my nose out my window until Tuesday (when the temps shall return to a balmy minus 15). Groceries? Check. Toiletries? Check. Magazines to curl up with? Check. Christmas Presents? Check. Lessee, I got my father what he's been asking for since I was old enough for him to give me his Christmas wish list: And I think my mother will enjoy her bungalow by the stream: For my sister and he...

And they called me mad when I bought the bunker in the woods!

I had heard that one way of thwarting telemarketers was to make them think the number they have dialed is in fact a fax machine.  I've tried different tones on my cordless phone, all to no avail.  Then I had an epiphany: When I turned sixteen, my sister bought me a new-fangled telephone.  It had push buttons, but it was still just a rotary phone - when you pressed each button to dial, you still heard the rotary "tat-a-tat-tat-tat" with every number.  I had held onto this phone ever since.  It's cute.  It works.  There was no reason to get rid of it. I was willing to bet that, in this day and age of advanced technology rendering yesterday's device obsolete on a daily basis, a telemarketer - who is likely going to be decades younger than my phone - would be unable to even identify a rotary phone by sight much less by sound. And voila!  Answering the phone with my rotary phone, and constantly pressing the buttons, the telemarketer kept repea...