Summer's here and I'm ready to play

I was patient. It finally decided to arrive and now that it's here I couldn't be happier.

It's been a day where Spring feels like Summer. And I lived it like it was my last. I adore those days where you get up and just want to feel every moment.

I fully realize that within my few posts I've mentioned the weather quite a few times. But don't you find it has great bearing on how productive or how enjoyable your day turns out!?

I felt like a pretzel. Random, yes, but, oh so delicious.

So, I made my way into the shopping village that comes complete with the sweetest bakeries and mom and pop type shops. Everyone and their dog was out and about and they all seemed to be sporting a smile, even the four legged ones.

I too had a lot to smile about. My lumberjack and I were permitted an evening together, finally. With work and school there haven't been enough hours in the day. As I walked along I felt like bursting; I'm so lucky to have him.

I basked in the sunshine on a bench that appeared to have survived several, hard decades. Unfortunately, the warmed pretzel and grande americano were not as lucky, only surviving mere moments.

The day also permitted a snooze beneath a winter stricken bare oak tree in High Park. The blossoms are there, just awaiting their queue.

Little India was the destination for dinner. The street was flush with vendors and sidewalk sales that sparkled. The sequins and vibrant saris were elegantly flowing in the evening breeze.

Our dinner was just as colourful. Although Gillian pointed out the food was too mild, she wanted to feel the burn. Glancing around the packed buffet house it was clear that they were cooking for a specific clientele, people like me (whimps).

Everything seems to be thriving again.

The blossoms have the right idea; it's just about the right time to come out to play.

With just one word at a time.

I'm afraid to write.

I used to love the freedom of writing. Sadly, this is why I moved across this great country.

I wanted to make my writing a career, a tool I could use to change the world. Yes, at this time I was an optimistic teenager who thought she knew EVERYTHING, she had the world by the tail.

With moving to Toronto I figured as soon as I learned the tricks of the trade, journalism would be my new passion. Tragically, this was not to be.

I've been working towards my degree in journalism for the past three years now. So far, all I've truly learned is to fear what I have to write. Not because I'm blunt or mildly offensive, no, quite the contrary. Many of my instructors have labeled me whirly and unfocused.

It's been only recently that I've come to voluntarily move myself towards a keyboard.

I came to the decision quite recently that these 'instructors' love themselves and their work far too much. So what if I'm whirly - deal with it!

I suppose I'm just tired of paying an institution thousands of dollars each year for them to tell me, 'We're sorry you suck."

There's only two more weeks left to this semester. I'm grinding away at the remainder of my assignments. It's an uphill battle, but I'm almost there.

My bones are weary. This isn't my flamboyantly dramatic side coming out to play either - I'm just dog-tired.

I’m ready and willing for something new to challenge myself with.

"Push me higher!"

Not only was today the warmest it's been, I spent my afternoon with two rays of sunshine.

It was the third time I've looked after these two little ladies. I say ladies, not girls because boy do they pack a lot of attitude, the good kind of attitude of course.

I was a little apprehensive to accept the commitment of sharing every Tuesday at 5.30 p.m. with a 4 and 7-year-old. But, I'm glad I accepted the challenge.

Last Tuesday was not a good one. The youngest announced she hated me during dinner. It's interesting how quickly a person less than half my size with an even smaller vocabulary can crush me with three simple words. My big girl guts came tumbling down.

Today, was much better than the last. All of the kids in the neighbourhood were out on their bikes, including the girls. The youngest still has training wheels; but is most proud of her accomplishment in speed. The next-door neighbour's youngest boy cried to me about how training wheels are for losers and he's still got them, he's 6. Poor little lad.

After mom left there was a un-sauced spaghetti fight over dinner and then 2 hours of park play time fun. Where on more than one occasion I was instructed, "Push me higher Miss Robyn!! Push me higher!"

I suddenly felt like I heard the bells of the ice cream truck that always drove through our complex in the summers. And the taste of Tiger Ice Cream suddenly flooded my senses. This was my inner child bursting out, ready to play.

Once finally home there were popsicles before bed and then four stories read in the funny voice that they love so much.

I'll never be ready to put that inner child to bed. She’ll always be apart of who I am and who I grow to be.

Sunshine on Sunday

The alarm sounds, so what, I decide to sleep some more. It's Sunday and I don't have to work. I'm going to enjoy every sweet moment that I'm granted until my guilt for wasting the day kicks in.

Then it's my cell phone. I pick it up to see who has decided to disrupt my slumber, my lovely 'Lumberjack'. I don't mind anymore. I like his wake-up calls they're never a bother to receive.

He's just calling to check in.

The night before had been one of indulgence, indulgence in copious amounts of alcohol (as most individuals who recognize Commonwealth celebrations would know). Along with my Lumberjack's Engineering buddies he'd been indulging since noon. His night ended a fair bit earlier than mine. But, I made the executive decision to stay out longer as Carla was traveling down to meet up with me.

By the end of the night when you scan the room or bar hall or club wherever you might be on St. Paddy's day do you ever think to yourself - what the hell is going on here?

How did an old English bloke who somehow became an Irish patron saint, umpteen years ago manage to get so many people drunk?

In the spirit of Western consumerism there are also an array of St. Patrick's Day products on the market. Which I might add are probably sold in dollar stores owned by new Canadians who have no clue what all of the excitement is about (don't worry friends you're not missing out on anything).

Well, this was a year I didn't buy into it. I didn't even wear green. But, in the end my roommate brought me a green shirt from home to wear because I just felt like such a party-pooper. Although, I'm sure the party didn't notice.

Last year was different, I busted out the cloverleaf sweater -classy- and I ended up having a tragic night. Line-ups equal no fun. Maybe my reluctance to dress the part was a subconscious move to ensure I had a super sweet party night:)

Maybe next year I'll buy into it again. I might even pick-up a ' Who's your daddy? (Front)- St. Paddy's your daddy!(Back)'. A friend of mine who looks like a giant Leprechaun wore one just like it last night.

Please don't fret with fear at the image of me drunkenly stumbling about this big bad city. It wasn't a night of debauchery. It was a fabulous night with great friends. I was sure to not over do it; Sunday was set to be a well-paced productive day with a planned sleep in.

Oh and it was glorious.

I made my cup of coffee, dressed and then strolled through the bustling Bloor West Village. Everyone wrapped in sunshine. I couldn't hide the extra little bounce in my step. Spring is coming, I can feel it.

I bought salmon coloured tulips to celebrate!

Mama's in town.

Nothing beats a mother's love.

I've had the privilege to have my mom spend a few days with me. To spoil me and of course to knock some sense into my big head over this past weekend.

Over time, the lights of this city begin to blind and confuse me. I forget what I want and where I want to go because all I see is the here and now. When I stand in a tight crowd of strangers I can only stare at my feet to ensure I don't trip over myself; I don't have the time or the energy to look up to see beyond where I'm at right at that exact moment.

But, Toronto has given me so much all of my experiences here because they've taught me more and forced me to move forward, one foot at a time.

My mom also leads a stressful life. She has a job that demands every bead of sweat that collects on her brow. Some of her stories of clients forces me wonder if people just like to be miserable. On top of her 8-5 (sometimes 8 to 10 poor mommy) she has the challenge of a teenage daughter (my younger sister) and aging parents. I know that these challenges await me someday. But, she handles it all in stride.

We've had this time to pamper each other with the other's company. She's the only person on this Earth that has even come close to understanding me. I'm strange, I'm telling you -I wouldn't lie about this.

Tomorrow is our last day to just chill out with one another. After my classes are over for the day we'll explore the wild and sometimes woolly Queen West and then she'll buy me groceries. In the evening I'll cook for her (I continue to try and impress her with the culinary knowledge that I've attained over the past few months) and then we'll sit and just continue what we've been up to all weekend - girl talk!