My head is a junk drawer that used to be a collection of awesome stuff that time has simmered down into fuzzy chunks of melted wax, string ends cut off a roast in 1973, and an old pair of safety scissors. I have to chuck this stuff out so I can start up a new collection.
The Palinode and took a trip up to Saskatoon on the weekend so we could see both Feist and Janelle Monáe at the Saskatchewan Jazz Festival.
You need to see Feist perform "Sea Lion" live, and you also need to see Monáe's crazy fast feet cut a rug on stage. They will make your heart happy.
The popcorn with extra butter from the Bus Stop in downtown Saskatoon might not make your heart so happy, but screw heart health. That stuff is good. Buy the monster bag.
We had the absolute honour of visiting with my friend Mary and her two little fuschnickens. Those twins are two orbitting balls of abject joy-in-all-things, and those two hours we spent hanging out with them swelled my little grinchy, child-free heart three sizes, but damn if that wasn't the most tiring two hours ever. It was tiring in a good soul-filling way, but the Palinode walked out of there looking like he needed a nap to recuperate from the tsunami of human interaction that two-year-olds bring to the table.
We're old people with cats.
We also got to tramp all over Saskatoon with Geof and Drew, which made me miss Saskatoon so damn much I actually wept a little the night before we left to come back to Regina.
Plus, I finally got to meet both Kayayarai and Mmrilla after many years of online friendship and run into Melistress, so that just made the weekend extra fine.
I lived in Saskatoon for almost 21 years, and, rather than getting easier to walk away after every trip, it's getting harder.
When I was a kid, I had this idea that people became more calloused and cold-hearted as they got older. It turns out that the heart softens as you age. I am a veritable melted pat of butter now. By the time I am 80, I'll be little more than a pile of sweet goo.
I had my first ever visit to American Apparel, and now I know I have to go back. I've never seen so much fashion bullshit compiled and displayed in one place. I laughed, I cried, I declared one entire 50-foot wall display an Ode To Gay Miami 1983.
And that was last weekend. My junk drawer has been emptied!
Thank you for your patronage.