Friday, October 14, 2005
So, would you believe it, the store up the street is out of vitamin C. Why, you ask? It has nothing to do with the weather dropping or the early onset of the cold November rain. I came back to the office to complain when my co-worker said “People are afraid of Legionnaire’s disease.” Can vitamin C really protect you from Legionnaire’s disease? Based on some preliminary internet research Legionnaire’s disease is contracted from contaminated air conditioners. The internet has also told me that the disease is rampant in Australia. One third of the population shows signs of having come into contact with it. It makes sense. You’d need a lot of air conditioning in Australia.
Anyway, I feel a cold coming on, so I have been loading up on the available meds in vitamin or herbal form to prevent the bug from ravaging my system. It is times like this that I really miss living with Maximizer nee GRC. She had all the answers. Not that she was very nice to me when I was sick, unless I was really sick, she always told me what to take and because I never actually bought any of that stuff, I just always took hers.
So, I emailed her to ask if I was supposed to take iron or zinc. This was her response:
“I always take zinc. They say it shortens the amount of time you'll be sick for. Get zinc lozenges of some kind, with a small dose (5-10mg) and take them a few times a day. Any more than that, and you'll feel sick from the zinc and the cold. I think you can get lozenges that have zinc, vitamin C, and echineacea all wrapped up into one, which is handy. Then you've got all your bases (all your placeboes, maybe) covered.”
The internet couldn’t tell me that. She is a fountain of information. Now, if only she would send a little baggie of pills to me via currier. That would be awesome. Alas, I am dreaming.
My plan is to continue to pop pills and live under my blanket and on my couch in front of Six Feet Under all night so I will feel better tomorrow. But here is my problem. There is a big party tonight at a really cool loft held by two photographers. It is a going away bash for this guy who is moving to South Africa for this woman he loves. It is very sweet.
It is a very romantic story, actually. He met this woman at a wedding in Cape Breton. They stayed in a house together for about three days. They have not had sex, they have never even kissed. When she went back to South Africa they started an internet romance. Now he is moving to see if it works out.
Admittedly, this may have “Crying Game Moment” written all over it. But, I think that it could go down in the annals of romance history under the “when it’s right, it’s right” category.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
So, last night I went to a nice small French restaurant for dinner. I only had eyes for my dinner date, but when he stepped away, headed for the bathroom, I got a good look at the couple sitting near the window behind him. Now, for me, couples in conflict are like dinner theatre. I think some people have a flare for performance even if they are bankers or insurance reps for 40 hours a week. But, why do people break up in public, why do they fight in public? Why do couples insist on discussing their personal problems over pate and baguettes while the waiter pretends not to notice the crying woman as he slips by with extra napkins?
Couples are the best kind of dinner theatre because I get to tell the stories. I get to focus on their gestures and faces and decide what’s going on at the window table across the room. I can stare and they don’t notice because they are enraptured in their own story. They don’t know that I’m crafting my own. As long as the pair aren’t sobbing loudly or slamming their fists onto the table in anger you can project whatever you want on them. They can play out the drama in your own life. Or, they can be your flesh and blood equivalent of Luke and Laura or any soap relationship from Days of our Lives to Coronation Street
My dinner date got back and noticed me watching the couple. He noticed her blotting her tears taking care not to ruin her mascara. He noticed her companion’s inability to look her in the eye.
So, we told stories about them. He’s moving to work in New York City, she knows he is seeing someone else. He feels that she doesn’t listen, she is always thinking of another man. She can’t express how she feels, he always interrupts her before she makes her point. Last week she kissed his best friend, he’s ashamed of the relationship and doesn’t want to introduce her to his family. We told a thousand stories like that.
Then the woman laughed out loud. It was false, clearly nothing was resolved. She laughed, I think because she didn’t want to continue the fight. She laughed as she wiped tears away and her companion looked relieved. He cracked another joke and she laughed again, this time louder. But, she was nervous. It was obvious. She just wanted to stop no one wants to remember the argument over dinner. Then she excused herself and spent a good long time in the bathroom. Sometimes you need a break.
She came back to him standing, having just paid the bill. They left and he guided her out of the restaurant with his right hand on the small of her back.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
So, I have started a new knitting project and I am very exited about it. It is a scarf – I’m a talented knitter. I am using a simple basket stitch and it’s going well. The old ladies I grew up with would be very proud. Well, I guess they would be, but I can only speculate as most of them are dead now. I was taught to knit as a child and it didn’t take. I just didn’t have the attention span long enough to create anything more than a tube dress for my Barbie.
The knitting store I go to on Notre Dame is close to my apartment and a couple doors down from a breakfast place I really like. Run by a middle-aged couple the store is frequented by those of us who have turned to the needle arts recently and those of us who are veterans of the hook.
Debbie Stroller, the editor of Bust Magazine published “Stitch n’ Bitch” about two years ago. The book sold well and directed hipster attention to the world of knitting. It may well have done great things for the knitting industry because it seems that chicks 25 – 40 have all taken to the needle and I’m not talking about heroin.
Perhaps the hipster attention is frowned on by dyed in the wool knitters because I have never experienced attitude from those in the service industry as I have at some knit shops. My current knit store excluded, the attitude is shocking. I’d say the worst offenders are the staff at Romney Wools in Toronto. I have been to that store a number of times and they never disappoint. The quality and quantity of wool is amazing, to be sure, but you need a thick skin. Generally, they either speak to me like I’m an idiot or act like the last thing they want to do is answer some moronic question about wool. And God forbid you get in there 10 minutes to closing. You get told as soon as you walk through the door, even if all you want is a set of size 6 needles. I get sized up in a second. I guess most women my age don’t look like knitters (unless we wear saucy librarian glasses and long brown wool pleated skirts). I don’t even look like a hipster. Still, I think they hate me. Anyway, the joke is on you, Romney bitches. I’ll never darken your doorstep again. Knitting stuck this time but another store will be taking my money cause I’m tired of your attitude.
Also, I live in Montreal now, so I simply can’t get the store.