Category Archives: Hanging Around

Everyone’s A Winner

The Usual Suspects are leading the pack at the 35 kilometer mark

Canadian Matt Loiselle, left, is looking good

I consider myself a twisted Sartorialist, here is my vote for best dressed

I have a soft spot for Scotiabank’s Toronto Waterfront Marathon. I always think of it as the marathon that got away. Flashback to 1998: Oh how I wished I had run this flat, breezy, cakewalk instead of the Toronto International Marathon with its up and down hills in Hog’s Hollow and Forest Hill. And on that particular day, October 18, the weather was cold then hot, then rainy, then cold again. The only thing consistent was the wind although even that seemed to change direction. I learned a few things that day though: hills are for skiing and running is for people who have somewhere to go. Which is why now I just like to stay put and watch others go places. The Waterfront Marathon is perfect for that because the weather is always just right and the 35 kilometer mark is at the bottom of my street in front of Starbucks. The runners have 7 more k’s to go to finish the whole 42.2k’s . The last quarter is the toughest and most intense so it’s important to cheer these athletes on. I remember losing my pace bunny at the 30 k mark but I adopted two finely dressed Italian men both of whom were worried about what the humidity was doing to their hair. And I had problems of my own, I had lost my shirt(!) on Rosedale Valley Road and I had severe upper buttcrack chafing issues because I should have cut the tags from my shorts. Fun times! But in a marathon, anyone who crosses the finish line is a winner but some are more winny than others.

And speaking of races, the one where even winners can be losers, Toronto has a municipal election coming up on October 25. Do you need me to remind you how important it is to vote? For Ward 30, the Leslieville Post (see blogroll) has a Q & A with the candidates for councillor, click here for the link. I’ll keep you posted on the other east end neighbourhood wards in the coming weeks.

How Now Brown Drink

Whiskey Sour

I feel all displaced now that the weather has gone from sultry hot to cold and freaky and this back to school business is ridiculous.  I’d home school my kids except I’m dumber than them.  Anyway, I’m trying to roll with the times and embrace the cold and the loneliness.  I’m still wearing sandals but that England World Cup tshirt is for the gym only.  The fall wardrobe is still up in the air.  I read in the Toronto Star last week the camel coat was the autumn must-have.  I told this to someone at a wedding on Sunday and they thought I said  “camel toe”…of course they did…but camel toe is always in season.  Enough of fashion.  I do like a change of season  because you can change your eating and drinking habits.  Fruit:  be gone and take your little flies with you.  Vodka, you’re starting to bore me, there are only so many flavours of Vitamin Water to disguise you.  Bring on the gourds and the brown drinks.  Yesterday I made myself a “whiskey sour” while I hunkered down in my ashram to watch Episode 7 of Madmen.  In a flurry of inspiration, I have started another blog call “My Tv Fez” where I will invite discussion of what I watch, instead of just falling asleep afterwards, click here for the link….it’s still a baby so it’s not on google-able yet.  Anyway, Don Draper drinks a lot of Canadian Rye which I think is hot.  Bourbon is good too.  Here is the recipe:

Shot of brown drink (bourbon, rye or whiskey)

Squeeze in a half a lemon

Simple syrup…sugar dissolved in water…to taste and serve it on ice, with or without the cherry

And let the autumn come!

The Beginning of the End

Date Night at the CNE

The more things change, the more they remain the same.  The CNE isn’t what it used to be, so I’m told.  There is no free ride and I paid 7 Dollalhares for a hotdog…yes, a hot dog (more on that later).  The bearded lady is gone….or is she?  Maybe she just went to the the Shoppers Bazaar in Building A just right of the Prince’s Gates and got herself a honey ginger hair removal system and now she walks among us, flying her freak flag at half mast.  There is still some pretty good people watching (it’s free and see picture above, zoom in wherever) and there is some good things to eat.  Take my hotdog:  I got it in Building A:  a kobe beef weiner (shhh), with wasabi mayo, Japanese curry, and a hovering of deep fried julienned onions smattered on top.  Seriously, the best hot dog ever.  Seven dollars.  And so what?  I got a foot massage for a quarter and a pair of Doc Martens for 60 bucks, I am so way ahead.  I also had another lunch of a vegetarian Middle East platter  from the actual foode court:

Falafel balls!!!! This one is for Scotty

But the best part, of course is the rides, of which I am too old, too chicken, and too incontinent to partake, but Claire did:

The Scary Drop Zone

I’d rather have a hot dog, same sort of thing.  And another big buddy Budweiser, I’ll be back before it all ends.

L*A*Z*Y: It Works For Me

Teenage Summer Fun

It’s the middle of summer which means it’s the beginning of the end.  Even though I haven’t been in school for decades (shh), the feeling of dread when August comes around is as intense as it ever was.  If Sheryl Crowe can say “40 is the new 30” (then by sequential patterns, you can add that 50 is the new 20….yay!), and then I can say August is the new June.  There’s an entire month left plus another week because Labour Day is late this year.  Oh, how I hate Labour Day.  The word “labour” is the antithesis of summer when being lazy is on the “to do” list.  So here is my summer bucket list (less like a bucket and more like a plastic sand pale from the dollar store):

sit on porch…check

read Book of Negroes…check

finish that bottle of tequila…2/3 check

ride the Behemoth….not yet

swim in a murky Lake Ontario….not yet

clean closets….hahaha, not yet

And that’s pretty much all, not quite as ambitious as my teenage summers where I would cram in the full lineup of ABC soap operas:  All My Children, One Life To live, General Hospital AND still manage to get a tan (the secret to that was moving the basement tv close to the window and blocking the glare with an umbrella).  Those were the hazy days of summer, and at night we would prowl like cats on the River Road, looking for boys and trouble but settling for a Mr. Freezie and then walking home with a single bare foot because one Jesus sandal snapped and then stepping on a piece of broken glass (a Brador bottle, no doubt:  Quebec, circa 1978) and having to get a tetanus shot the next morning at the walk-in clinic which was beside the pharmacy where the Archie comics were displayed in a carousel.  I still remember how the paper and ink smelled in those Betty and Veronicas.  And do you know what, I checked out an episode of one of my old soaps and some of the characters are still there, Botoxed and sandpapered, to which I say: nice work if you can get it, Erica Kane.

One is the Only Number

The Only Cafe, Danforth at Donlands

Last week, one of my friends’ Facebook status read:  “I’m off the Island, it was a rough dive but an easy swim. ”  It’s Toronto in July, everyone and his FB buddy is at some cottage somewhere fighting mosquitoes so I took her message literally.  But then yesterday she IM facebooked me:  “I’m single now, have great stories, let’s go for brunch!”  Yay!  Brunch, I’m in!  You know, I used to hate that word “brunch”, just pick a meal and call it breakfast or lunch, why don’t you?  And then I realized “brunch” is just an polite Anglo Saxon term for drinking booze at breakfast.  Most ladies who brunch in the East End go to Joy Bistro and order a mimosa with Norwegian Eggs Florentine so I suggested going there but my FB buddy, Dolores (not her real name) ixnayed it.  “Let’s get dirty,” she said.  So off we went to The Only Cafe for eggs, sausages, and pints of Wellington.  The Only Cafe is that beacon of colour in that otherwise dreary section of The Danforth near Donlands.  It’s graffiti art on the outside and a mish mash of decor on the inside with an impressive selection of beer on tap.  There’s a patio in the front and a quiet one in the back where you can languish all afternoon and chat away without judgment.  Newly single Dolores talked about her breakup (very exciting except that it turned out that “diving off the island” was just a metaphor) and we also discussed the ramifications of Facebook.  She defriended him but he kept her friends as his friends and since they broke up he makes sure he writes witty comments on their statuses so that she can see them and that way she won’t forget him.  There’s a smart man.   She did keep his relatives as her FB friends because the actual process of defriending someone is a political statement that requires quite a bit of emotional energy.  I hate it when people defriend me (I notice!) but then I’m sure my Farmville activity last spring was unbearable when they were reading their updates, so I try not to take things too personally.  And I have always found it strange that Facebook suggests putting a  relationship status in your profile section.  How bad would you feel if your beloved chose the “it’s complicated” as an option?  If you’re a man, let’s face it,  the only reason you choose “in a relationship” or “married” is because a certain someone p-whipped you into it.  If you’re a woman and you choose the “single” option then people think you have cats.   And some folks get all paranoid about Facebook;  “I’m being stalked!”  Nobody is stalking you, honey, unless they are sitting in a tree looking in your bathroom window, don’t flatter yourself.  If they’re looking at your profile, consider yourself lucky that someone cares.  My motto:  Just keep it light and happy and pretend Facebook is like being out in a public cafe where you conduct yourself in a civilized manner.  And you can play that mutated form of Scrabble called Lexulous!  And post blog entries!

They Come In Droves

This weekend is the Beaches Jazz Festival and for absolute sure, the highlight of every East Ender’s calendar year.  I know it is mine.  It is part music, part freak show, and a fine excuse to eat pulled pork which hardly ever happens for me.  They close off the streets, so again you get to walk in the middle of the road!  This has been going on for some twenty odd years and every year it gets better and better.  Our friend, Lido, does the most amazing job putting this on so don’t miss it, and you can park in my back yard!  Here are some pics (worth a thousand words):

Beaches Jazz Festival Balloon Man, look for his profile on Plenty Of Fish

Two wolf moon

every girl’s best friend, the oyster shucker shucking an oyster

the pulled pork parfait

I need to pause at this one.  Definitely one of the highlights at the festival is the pulled pork stand featuring Hank Daddy’s Barbecue, click here and check out their website.  This would be the place to call if you had an event that needed catering.  The smartest street foode ever:  the pulled pork parfait:  layer of mash potato, pulled pork and gravy, another layer of mashed potato with pulled pork, then topped with beans!  In a plastic parfait glass!  You know, the sky is the limit with this one, I may eliminate all my plates at home and serve everything like this then we can always eat dinner in front of the tv.  Dirty secret:  my house rule is that anything that can be served in a bowl, ie. chili, stew, can be eaten on the couch while watching Family Guy.  Anyway, here’s more of the Jazz Festival:

the bands are set up all along Queen Street

more foode!

Gidget Goes To Mumbai

Rogers at the Gerrard Street Festival

Yes, Rogers, I don`t hate you anymore.  I am still wary of your monopolizing ways, but you have me at  ON DEMAND.  In an effort to pinch some pennies, latte factor-style, I decided to give in to that bundle that Rogers offers where your phone, cable, and internet are at a supposed discount.  It turned out I would still be saving money if I gave in and got one of those boxes that I have been resisting for years because it’s just one more gizmo I have to break in.  Not knowing how to use something causes too much anxiety which is why I didn’t answer my i-Phone for a month when I first got it and why I took the TTC when I got a car with manual transmission.  It turns out I was afraid of nothing.  The box is as easy to use as my own, just press the buttons.  So for the past week I have been holed up in my darkened ashram watching tv.  I have seen Gidget twice because I can!  I can watch my beloved Dr. Oz whenever I want!  I’m able to order things, this is where the latte factor may not work out, except whenever I go to Blockbuster to rent something, I end up with candy and something from the previewed bin that I probably have seen before and will watch again when it aired on tv organically, which is why I have seen Bridget Jones Diary so many times that I should be embarrassed. None of it makes sense, latte-wise.  So anyway, yesterday, I decided it was time to turn off the tv (by the way, ROD has A Single Man this month, it’s fantastic, watched it three times!) and I headed up the street to the Gerrard Street Festival.  I love when they close the streets to traffic, it feels like you’re breaking the law walking in the middle of the road but you’re not because the cops are smiling at you:

Also I love eating while walking.  I had naan bread and tikka chicken from one of the vendors.  I’m going back for more today, and the Dosa eating contest in on today at 4pm!  The Calcutta-like heat wave is perfect for walking around the festival.  The foode is delish and the colours are spectacular!

Marco…?!

Public pool ladies

Pretty much my entire childhood was spent  looking for that elusive Marco Polo.  Where I grew up, we had our own pool in the backyard.  We had lots of neighbours over so it was almost like a public pool, God knows what was in it.  One of my friends confessed years later that she would pee on the edge of it, what can you do?  I’d go and swim in her toilet but that would be just petty revenge.  Now as an adult, I’m pool-less and have to rely on actual public swimming facilities.  As you know, they are all over the city, click here to find one close to you, if you dare.  The one near me is the Donald Somerville at the foot of Woodbine.  It’s quite crowded and the thing I hate is walking up the stairs barefoot.  It’s slippery with sunscreen residue and mud, prime breeding ground for the plantar warts, ugh, let’s not even go there.  I don’t mind going to the Greenwood pool late in the day because it’s less busy and there is just a short tiptoe trot to the concrete.  They don’t like you to wear shoes at the city pools.  In fact there are so many rules that I think Marco Polo himself got fed up.  I have to say I do love to people watch and there is always something entertaining to see:  teenage couples making out, a bearded lady or two, fat men with prison yard tattoos.  The whole Diane Arbus-ness is probably better for the CNE and less appetizing for sharing water.  A few years ago, when the kids were young uns and there was a city strike (no garbage pick up or pools), someone told me about a pool at the Docks.  You pay a small fee to get in but you have lounge chairs and access to a snackbar and a real bar.  At the time it was *the* place to go for the ladies who worked in the evenings, waitresses and whatnot.  They would frolick in the pool in their thong bikinis on blow up floats (you couldn’t do that in a city-run pool) and natter away in their Slavic languages.  A Toronto Sun photographer would always be on hand snapping pictures.  It was just like South Beach.  Such fun and little Freddy learned how to swim that year.  Now the Docks is no longer and it is called Polson Pier.  The pool is still there (the ladies are not, they must be in Hollywood now, famous and happy ever after).  The facility is actually much nicer with comfy couches and umbrellas:

The pool is pretty quiet during the week, $10 for adults and $6 for children (which is undefined, “if you say she is a child, then she is a child” said the man behind the counter about my 16 year old.)  And the pool is so warm and so clear, I actually found two loonies on the bottom which in a Seinfeld moment later lost down the grate in front of the snackbar.  This year Oh Boy Burger has taken over the spot and the burgers and fries are delish, and the pizza is really good too.  The entertaining part of hanging out at the Polson Pier pool is that the venue hosts corporate events and grown-up adults are always doing goofy things (Sumo wrestling) to promote ***team spirit***(eye roll):

Corporate Chain Gang Fun Times Party Game

I mean, what is this?  It’s blazing hot out there.  Thankfully, they didn’t come into the pool.  Go Marco!

Ladies and Gentleman, The THUNDERMONKS!

The Thundermonks at The Boardwalk at Kew Beach on Canada Day

Hope you are all having a great extended long weekend.  It’s always confusing when a holiday lands during the week, what day is it again?  Why are Regis and Kelly on tv on Saturday?  Mine has been uneventful which is the way I like it.  The Chore Family next door are painting their entire front porch with Mac makeup brushes, two coats is the plan.  Needless to say it will take the entire four days.  But they put the carpet out on the front lawn and we are pretending it’s the dock at The Cottage and the porch is the boat.  When a motorcycle brrrrrms by on Kingston Road, I say, “Those damn speed boats, can’t hear yourself think.”  4 Steam Whistles later, I got a farmer’s tan.  As it turns out, sunscreen is required at Pretend Cottage.  And underwear does not look like a bathing suit.  My daughter was at a real cottage in Grand Bend, lucky girl.  Consequently, Betty-Dog, has been out of sorts and acting like a crazed, barking squirrel.  On Canada Day, I took her for a long walk on the boardwalk to get her spook out.  I don’t think it help much but I did enjoy the day, the weather was just so:  Sunny, not hot, breezy but not so strong the wind didn’t whistle through your ears.  I’m sure this is how I lost entire chunks of memory.  And as usual, there were loads of people out with their exposed flesh and their prison yard tattoos and unleashed pitbulls. How I love a parade.  Musicians were out as well.  You had to be there to appreciate the Russian man strumming his guitar while reading the newspaper out loud.  One group that stood out were four young guys called the Thundermonks.  They were sooooo cute, I forgot how old I was and I digressed to my 12 year old self.  I made my friend ask them what school they went to…it turns out they had just graduated from Etobicoke School of the Arts.  I quickly did the math and when the result came up, I was ashamed.  Anyway, they were kind of jazzy, hip-hoppy and really up-beat.  Their album “Get Fed” is available on iTunes (buy it!!!!) and they are playing at The Drake Hotel on July 21.   When I got home from my walk, I asked on of the teenage neighbours if she knew them (teenagers know everyone, look at their Facebook accounts) and as it turns out she is dating the drummer!!!!  I’m hoping she can get them to play on our front lawn/fake cottage this summer before they become too famous.    Check out their video  here .

Every Dog Has Her Day

I’m on Day 18 of the 30 Day Bikram Challenge!  I`m over the hump and feelin`good, I could go on forever but I won`t, don`t worry.  This yoga fog can`t last.  I`m neglecting my posts and my personal grooming.  I think all that heat is breaking capillaries on my face at an accelerated rate and I can`t be bothered to put the slap on to cover them up.  Also I am pretty much wearing the same thing everyday:  England World Cup tshirt and I don`t even care if they win or lose.  One thing I have been doing is redecorating my living room and if I do say so myself:  It is kick-ass.    Except for one thing.  I need to hang the curtain brackets which means I need a man with a drill to help me.  I have let my needs be known and yet no one has risen to the task.  What happened to the benevolent universe granting wishes to people who bought the DVD of  The Secret?   Does the universe even know I exist?  At least the universe knows my dog, Betty, exists.  Yesterday she got a bone and then some.

Betty meeting Rocco at the off leash dog park

The other day I was watching, captivated, a show on TLC called Extreme Poodles which is a whole other topic of conversation but made me look over at Betty and say, “Betty, when was the last time we updated your profile on Facebook?”  So we logged on and lo and behold there was a message from the Toronto Beaches Dog Association (no I am not making it up, it exists, click here and check their website and you can `like`them on Facebook too).  The Nutromax Dog Food Company are donating a couple of benches to the off leash dog park in Kew Gardens, the one at the beach by the Leuty Lifeguard Station.  They were also giving out free samples AND the chance to win free dog food for a year!  Talk about benevolence, match that *Universe*!  So off we went yesterday morning to beach to get some Nutro action and a little excercise.  One thing about Betty is that she is mostly a leash dog.  Her legs are about as long as my thumb so she is always at a fast trot even when I am at a slow stroll.  But an off leash park is a pretty fine thing.  Did you know that the city of Toronto plants spies in bushes and unmarked cars to ticket dog owners who let their dogs off leash in undesignated areas? 250 smackaroos for the offending canine.  Back  before Betty, when I had those two wanderlusting Shiba Inus, I would had to pay a few hundred million dollars in fines.  Penny and Cruise, they were fine dogs but with feral spirits.  And not so fun hunting them down in the middle of winter pushing a double stroller.  If the off leash park existed back then, they for sure would have found their way out.  They are probably bolting around Heaven now, chasing squirrels and rolling in dead fish, bless their little hearts. Here are the currently alive dogs on their turf:

Betty off to get her free samples

We had a fun morning.  Betty made a few new friends and got some dog food sample (venison!) and a faux-bone she can chew that cleans her teeth.  I’d like one of those, please.  And!  She won the grand prize:  free dog food for a year!  Thank you, Nutromax!