Stephen has been working diligently on his doctoral proposal.
In fact, at 4.19 pm on a Saturday afternoon, he is hiding in an office somewhere in Edmund Casey, writing, writing and more writing.
Dedication?
Insanity?
Commitment?
Or all three?
A trip to see Norma-the-greatest-hair-stylist-at-Klub-Soda was the first item on yesterday's agenda.
Em, Stephen and I experienced a collective pampering at Norma trimmed Em's bangs and ends, rid Stephen of his heat inducing locks, and covered my grey obnoxious for another few weeks.
Obviously, I'm not very good at taking pictures of myself.
I don't mind having grey hair.
I mind having grey hair just at the sides of my face.
Looking like two grey wings ready to fly me off to some distant land where hair dye isn't available.
Keith was also supposed to be in attendance, however, his work schedule didn't permit his presence.
The burgeoning bird's nest on his head will be massive by the time I wrangle him in to see Norma.
She won't need hair cutting tools so much as a chain saw and hedge clippers.
Two hour later, everyone was GORGEOUS and hungry.
Especially hungry.
Our next stop then, was M&T Deli.
This is the newest location for the very popular downtown eatery.
I spent many, many happy hours during my grad school days at the original M&T which was located at the bottom of Regent Street, and is now home to the Snooty Fox pub.
The moved to the corner of Queen and Regent, and more hours were spent eating one of my favourite lunch time meals, the bagel with cream cheese and dill pickle.
Oh.
My.
Gawd.
That's how good it is.
Sometimes, after a rough day negotiating through the political terrain of grad school, I'd stop at M&T for a much wanted homemade chocolate chip cookie the size of your head, and a steaming mug of peppermint tea.
I'd do the same now, but the peppermint tea doesn't seem nearly as delectable without the chocolate chip cookie.
I even had my own mug sitting atop their shelf.
And I was the only one who used it.
When Keith was much younger, the only birthday cake he wanted was a carrot cake from M&T Deli.
I'm just happy now if I see him on his birthday, let alone lavish him with luscious carrot cakes covered with sumptuous cream cheese icing.
They recently moved again, just further up Queen Street to more spacious quarters, so it seemed an ideal time to head inside for lunch.
A hungry Emily only leads to a hungry, cranky Emily.
Hungry Stephen's become miserable, headachy Stephens.
And I just needed to eat.
Falafel wraps with tzatziki for me and Stephen.
Club sandwich, no cheese, no tomato for Em.
Mmmmmmmm. . . . .
I strongly suggest you give them a try next time your downtown and feeling peckish.
Stephen and I took Em to work after lunch and then made the spontaneous decision to check out Jinglers.
A used clothing store on Prospect Street.
We go to Frenchies when we're in Oromocto.
Salvation Army store when we're downtown.
But we'd never been to Jinglers.
And of course I didn't have the camera with me.
Because only pictures could do justice to this nirvana of used clothing stores.
Located on the bottom floor, we opened the door and were immediately greeted with the largest piles of used clothing I've ever seen.
And it isn't a large space, not like Frenchies, but they have maximized what space they have.
There is barely room to negotiate around the piled-high-with-clothes tables.
Walls covered with scarves, purses and shoes, more clothes hanging up.
I've never been to a used clothing store that had so much in terms of plus sized clothing.
Because even though I've lost 81.2 pounds, I am still very much plus size.
Me and my ghetto bootie.
I actually didn't even manage to make a dent in the pile I was looking through.
Not a dent.
And next to the table piled high with t-shirts was the table piled equally high with shorts and capris.
Stephen was busy working his way through the men's section at the opposite end of the store, so I was blissfully left on my own to excavate the piles in search of things that would fit my slowly shrinking figure.
When we decided we should go, not because we were anywhere near finished, but because the invisible cord connecting us with our loyal canine companions was not-so-gently-tugging at us as we knew their need to pee was increasing exponentially, we checked out with the following items:
Me:
Two pairs of capris
A pair of shorts
Five t-shirts
Two blouses
Stephen:
Three polo shirts
One short sleeved cotton button down shirt (his favourite kind!)
Two sleep t-shirts.
All for the grand total of $46.10
Now THAT is what I call shopping.
The last time we were at the Salvation Army, we ran into someone we know, and she looked at us, shocked and amazed we were there, and said,
I can't believe YOU shop here.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
That just because I can, if I want to and usually I don't, put a Dr. in front of my name means I can't be a careful shopper?
Stephen and I have no money.
We have teenage, young adult dependents.
A husband completing an American doctorate.
Budget conscious is our real last name.
I admit.
I was insulted.
But I just smiled and said, why of course we do.
And really, if someone is constantly trying to stretch their dollars as far as they can go, why would they want to pay for overpriced clothing at the mall?
Even Em is intrigued.
We're going back Tuesday.
And this time, there will be no canine bladders calling to me.
To top off what ultimately resulted in being a no-work-all-play kind of day. . . .
. . .the kind of day we hadn't at all planned for at all. . .
. . .we spent a lovely evening with friends, eating great food, enjoying wonderful conversation along the banks of the Saint John River.
Every summer, my book club has a let's-get-together-with-our-husbands gathering.
Always at our friend, Wendy's house.
The last couple of years it was raining on our scheduled day, and we had to stay inside.
But last evening was glorious, and we were more than happy to be outside, gentle breeze blowing while the river softly lapped at the shore.
Smoked salmon. . .
. . .ribs so tender they fell off the bone, maple baked beans that most definitely did not feel like cement, cole slaw, potato salad, stuffed mushrooms, shrimp and pasta salad. . . .
Really, I should have taken more pictures, but I was simply too busy eating.
Although in the presence of such bounty, not eating like I hadn't seen food in six months was very difficult.
But I was the model of restraint.
I had to be.
Weigh in is Monday and there's still the weekend to get through.
Plus being along the river. . .
And other neat things . . .
We were joined briefly, by a group of ducks swimming lazily down the river, seemingly in no hurry to get anywhere. . .
This is as close as they'd let me get to them.
As well as some four legged friends. . .
Overall, a lovely evening spent in good company.
Much needed in light of traversing the mall with mother this afternoon.
And that will have to wait until tomorrow.
Title Lyric: Down by The Riverside by Patsy Cline
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