Tag Archives: Shopping

Those Special Days

Posted on by

2

I love the days that are special days.  I look forward to the coming day, planning events and getting all the perfect bits and pieces that make the day, the time, and the people, important.  This method of living through the calendar days requires accumulating “things.”  It is not these “things” that are important in and of themselves, but the people, the event, and the time that they are associated with.  Specifically, this year, as by coincidence, Mother’s Day and my brother-in-law’s birthday fall on the same day.  At this point, I am already half-way through thinking, planning, and purchasing “the things” that will fill this “double-day.”

More and more, I am attracted to those things that are more artistic.  I will buy a book full of words that are pretty and that tell a decorative story, rather than any story that is full of thrill and complex mathematical  problems that require suspending belief in the real world.  I prefer a few well-placed words, to a book that I can’t put down.  So, now, when I start the “accumulation of things” for “the special days” in the calendar, some, “tasteless, bland, white” card, figurine, book, and ecetera  is what I will look for, and usually it is what I get.

Part of my plan, which is a new criteria that developed only during the past year, is to try to fit the purchases of “the things” inside of a budget.  I wan to get to the day, with something that says, more “special, loved, and cherished” than any other day.  So, what I spend on the other deadline days in the calendar, should, not be able to compete with the “special days” and the amount I spend.  There is no way the money I spend can indeed reciprocate and represent the “specialness.”

How do I do this?  I have recently discovered “niche marketing” and the “niche market.”  I am finding more “hand-made” things, and “one-of-a-kind” things, in little shops that do not compete in anyway with giant marketplaces like William Sonoma and Crate and Barrel.  There, I can endlessly spend money, but rarely am I satisfied with the “thing” I have bought.

Being without a car, has led me to here, in my journey.  Because I have to walk, I try to fit everything I need to do, within a small radius of space.  And, I have discovered, the stores along those trendy streets, where the designers go, where the artists live and sell, and where things close to home are on sale, for a reasonable price, I can fulfill my wishes and desires… all in a small radius of a walk.

Also, I am a fan of those reality shows that average joe professionals host, and sometimes, compete with each other in.  It is a community that shows up on television at least once a week, and I am usually there, watching.

My hurrays for all the up-and-coming niche markets!  I feel I live a rich life and that I live it in reality.  I am comfortable and I am surrounded by all the comfortable things, which, for some reason, have to be earned through graduating from school and finding a way to make a living.  If this, is in fact, the real world, then, I give my hurrays again.  There are more and more…  One day, I too, will join with the “cottage industry” and end up on the trendy street.  I won’t only be giving on those special days, but I will also receive as much as I give.

My Favorite Friends

Posted on by

0

Daisies have white petals and yellow centres.  Much like the Cadbury Eggs, a filling of white and yellow surrounded by chocolate.

The field and the hill are scattered with them, growing in small bunches, and, swaying in the wind.  They are the most beautiful weed, and if you encourage them, they will cover the lawn.

When this happened in our backyard, in the summer, I stood with a lollipop in my mouth, sucking, and gazing at all the daisies.  I felt as if I had a daisy in my mouth, its sweetness filling and savoured.

I remember one day, because I was wearing my favourite dress–a baby pink, A-line flare.  I lobed that if I crouched down my dress would spread outward and cover my feet.  I looked like a pink bell.  I spent those days, in my pink bell dress, laughing.

The days were always sunny, and warm, but not too hot and humid.  I also remember because the freezies we had didn’t melt and become sugary water in blue, purple, pink, or yellow, those colours of the rainbow that taste like colours of the rainbow.  Now, in these summers, water droplets cover the length of the long freezie and make holding and eating one a slippery mess.  I love the cool blueberry in my mouth, and the quite cool sensation of holding something frozen, but keeping dry.  Those days, were a long time ago, and the earth has made so many rotations that it has probably rotated out of that particular orbit.  Alas…. Time changes everything!

One day, many years later, when I didn’t wear the pink dress any more, my boyfriend came over to our house.  It was an ordinary day, except that it would be the first time he came to our house.  I was excited, as he had casually just called on the telephone and said he would be riding his bicycle over and would be arriving in the next half hour.

It was summer, and I was quickly …  maybe I was in a panic….  I was trying to decide if I should wear something a little more suited to seeing my boyfriend, who was quite brand new at the time.  When he had called I was lounging around in an old pair of shorts and just any old t-shirt.  Part of my consideration was what we would be doing.  If we were going to go out for a walk in the ravine….  Then I wouldn’t really have to change into anything “nicer.”  I was not exactly making enough money to purchase all sorts of hiking gear, so, wearing any old pair of shorts and an old pair of sneakers would probably be all I needed.

Being the guy that he was, and probably still is, now, he arrived in twenty minutes.  He rang the door bell, and i rushed to open the door.  I had not changed…  as I just immediately made the decision that I didn’t want my little brother and sister bugging us.  He came in, and had a pop and sat and talked with all of us.  I was thinking constantly of taking off without my little tow-alongs.  My mother expected me to looke after my siblings during the summer holidays sine they were younger, but, they could survive being left alone for an hour without the supervision….  Not that I was especially responsible at the time.

We did take off not long after the pop was finished.  I asked, quite suddenly during a lull in the conversation, whether my boyfriend wanted to go to the river in the ravine with me?  My brother and sister were quick this time…  and I was grateful…..  my boyfriend immediately said quite excitedly that we should go, while my sister and brother said that they’d stay at home.  I didn’t have to be the one who said they couldn’t go.

The ravine and the river were not far away…  within two minutes we could be in a forest of trees and deep into a woodchip, pine needle floor that would lead to a small river that we could follow far, and even get lost in.

My boyfriend had never been to this part of  “Green Space” within the city, and I felt almost lost, surprisingly, as I began to think about how to show him around it.  He made it easy, however, keeping up an easy flow of conversation.  He never once asked where we were going….  As apparently, my statement from the beginning about going into the ravine and finding the river was enough for him.  This made me believe that just going to the river was enough.

There were several places that we could stand at right beside the river, and several places where the river would become shallow enough that standing on the edge we could reach our hands in and literally touch the sandy bottom of the stream. This is where we stopped and stood looking at everything surrounding us.  A few times, my boyfriend picked up a stone and skipped it across the water.  Sometimes it went far enough to go beyond just the middle of the stream.  this was the first time I had seen someone, in the flesh, do the skipping stone across the water.  It was impressive, and I felt in awe of my boyfriend.  I had thought, always, that it was just movie magic, but apparently, anyone could learn how to do it.

As we stood longer at the side of the stream, we began to notice the things just in the water.  Surprisingly, there were schools and schools of tiny fish.  They were silvery, and tiny and darted, faster than the striking of lightening, everywhere.  As soon as I saw them, I was utterly delighted.  I had never thought it possible that there would be life inside the tiny river in the ravine.  It did not seem wild enough to support any type of life.  Where would all the food come  from?

We stood looking down at them, in awe.  Suddenly, my boyfriend declared that they were definitely guppies.  Before this, I had only seen guppies in the pet store.  The ravine river was murky, from the sandy bottom and the slowness of the water which encouraged the water to be become murky with decomposing foliage.  I was very impressed.

We laughed, at the darting fish.  A few times my boyfriend put his hand and fingers in to cause the guppies to suddenly change direction, in an attempt to pick up one of the guppies, but they were incredibly fast.  It was exciting to see the quickness of silver which, given the sunlight, made a quick “spark” with the sudden turn the fish made.

As we grew tired, slowly, we suggested to each other, as we stood up again, by the side of the river, that we should go home.  My boyfriend dried his hands on his pants, and we turned around and started to head home.  This time I  did not feel myself looking everywhere in a scattered manner, to try to find something to say or to do.  I felt that my boyfriend and I had had a happy afternoon.  As we slowly walked, by boyfriend reached for my hand, and we held hands, lightly, walking without intention, out of the ravine.

We were holding hands, me in complete contentment and thinking that I had a cool boyfriend, when he let go suddenly, and running towards some thicket of bushes and trees, he picked a bunch of daisies, and offered them to me.  I was surprised by his gesture and accused him of vandalism and thievery of public property, causing the both of us to laugh.  I accepted his bunch of daisies anyway, reminding him that I had a backyard full of them at home already.

We were not a couple for more than a year-and-a-half, and i have not seen him since, but this particular afternoon is an afternoon I will forever remember, it being so pleasant, the sun being up, the way things worked without effort, and the way I didn’t feel as if I was always looking at the future and wondering if there would be future, given the sad circumstances.

I am someone who saves the things I love.  And that afternoon is saved, with the daisies and the silvery guppies.  And the memory of a kind boyfriend who made being a teenager exciting, and something that felt safe and full of being in love.

Getting Close to Sloan

Posted on by

0

The band Sloan was a big deal ten years ago, and everyone who was anyone was into them.  They were the band that never lived under a rock.  So, it was a big deal when my friend excitedly telephoned me to leave everything I was doing at home and rush downtown with him to get exclusive tickets to a taping of their interview and mini-concert at the television station.  This, as my friend knew, was exactly what I did.  I recall studying for a chemistry class since the pre-exam test was happening the next day.  I actually had habits like this, dropping studies and homework for fun my friends  were all into and doing.  Just to say, so that it is said, I actually failed that test and I think I had to make up the marks in summer school the coming summer break.

So, around dinner time I made it to the line-up, which was around the block already when I got there.  When I saw the length of the line, my first thought and feeling was disappointment as I was sure the studio was not as large to fit all of us into the audience.  My second thought was hope.  I immediately mentally hoped that my friend had made it down earlier and got in line much earlier.  Lucky us, both situations were true.

We happily greeted each other and hugged.  It was our common greeting.  Apparently, he had been there for more than an hour by the time we met up.  We became accountants and counted the waiting teenagers in front of us.  We felt that it would be a fifty-fifty chance of either getting in last or not getting in at all.  We crossed our fingers and tried to relax and calm down.  Who knew what the television people had in mind….  We had watched the show enough times to know that there could only be fifty in the audience. It was a small studio, meant to capture the intimacy of fans and their idols.  So, we were nervous and hopeful, and afraid of disappointment.  We talked little, but that was our habit.  We were good friends and were comfortable as friends.  Often the only reason why we would be around each other was to talk about music, to find a place to go hang out and dance (the city hall had Friday Night concerts outside in the Square where there was a beautiful shell-shaped stage), and to walk through the city looking for music stores and buying CD’s.  We could make a whole afternoon of four hours a trek through mid-town to downtown.  We would go home satisfied with purchases and hoping we didn’t make wrong purchases.  CD’s were still something of a precious purchase.  It was always fun to open up the case, after tearing off the plastic wrap, and looking through the booklet of art and dedications.  As well as listening to the whole album and trying ourselves to critique the songs as if we were professional music critics.

Well, the line started to move forward as the front doors of the building opened up.  It was actually happening!  The ushers and gophers were counting  us and determining who to let in.  I wondered if we would be lucky enough to see a producer!  It moved slowly, which kept our excitement up, but, it seemed everyone would be let in!

In about twenty minutes, we had inched our way to the doors.  There, was a woman, trendy but professional, with a clip board.  She looked at us and smiled, and then tore two strips from something attached to the clipboard, and handed one to each of us.  She explained that we should ring it around our wrists and keep it there to get into the taping of the show next weekend.

Excitedly, we walked off to the side, away from the front doors and the line-up.  I was so enamored with our next thing thing to do, that I almost put the wrist band on immediately.  It was paper, and would not have survived a week’s worth of showers.  My friend stopped me just as I was looking at the sticky part of the band and anticipating pulling off the paper and sticking the two ends of the wrist band together.

It was a school night, and since we had not had dinner, we debated whether we should spend another hour downtown, or, whether we should rush home?  One of the things I was chronically short of all the time, was pocket money, and an unexpected expenditure like dinner on a school night was going to make me poor as well as late for school the next morning as I would most likely sleep in.  We laughed, and decided to stop off for pizza, and then, go home.

The week went by quickly, and, perhaps because I was very excited, and my friend was too, it did not seem to drag.  It seemed that almost as soon as I had gotten the wrist band, the time came up that I had to put it on for the show.

As requested, we arrived an hour before the scheduled taping and, surprisingly, they did not open the doors until twenty minutes before the start of the show.  As this point, many ushers and gophers came out the open doors and moved us into the building.  First, we put our jackets and coats in a coat room….  There was no security and we were told to remember to take our coasts and jackets with a us afterwards.  Then we were ushered into a waiting area.  Here, there were a few benches and chairs, and as each group made its way into this room, a producer spoke to us and gave us general information and “rules of conduct” as well as a short information on what would happen and how long it would take.  The gist was that we would only be in the building for the hour of the taping and we would be expected to leave as soon as the taping was over.

This whole time, I was excited, and becoming more and more excited.  I smiled a lot at my friend.  We grinned at each other about how silly it all was.

Then, from the waiting room, we finally went through a short, darkened hallway which led into the studio, which was dimly lit for ambiance.  Here, ushers and gophers were everywhere.  The band would be in the middle and the audience would surround them, the instruments and the video jockey.  The lighting was warm, and seeing the band’s instruments made us excited and giddy.  My friend and I were directed to stand with three rows in front of us by the big “garage door” windows, which were open despite the coolish weather.

Without warning, the bands latest signature song began blaring….  Apparently, being excited and too distracted, I had missed the entrance of the band, despite the VJ’s intro and admonishments to welcome them.  “Money City Maniacs” opens with a siren and sudden guitar wailing.  I was surprised and in love!  My heart flew out of my chest and I screamed with the rest of the audience.  I think I remember jumping up and down and clapping my hands to add to the noise.

The rest of the show was just as exciting.  I had never been this close to a band, or to anyone famous before.  I thought that they were closer to God than I had ever thought anyone was.  Seeing them in actual size only increased my esteem of them…  Even though they were short at about 5’8″ and 5’10”.  They seemed to have some sort of supernatural power or exceptional genius that made them famous and revered and loved.  From that night on, I have never been able to look down on musicians of any type.  To be able to create a song….  from nothing but strings and electricity, amazes me.

I have lost touch with my friend.  I think he is now married and living in a small town….  But I have never forgotten that week and the night of the taping.  Even now, when my wrist band is lost, probably ruined with water in a dump site somewhere, my heart still jumps at the memory of “Money City Maniacs.”