the Cloak and Dagger – The LadyBird Magpie of East York

Laugh if you want to, but my favourite book is Anne of Green Gables. I’ve read the entire series a few times, and some particular installments in the series, more times that I can even remember. Lucy Maude is a great story teller. And if you’ll remember back to when you read Anne, or even if you didn’t read the story, you probably can probably recall bits of the tv movie that aired on the CBC or you took a class trip to some high school performance of the play. You might even remember Anne’ bosom chum, Diana. On January 1st, my bosom chum got on a plane. And just like that, Toronto got a little less sweeter.

It hasn’t been such a sweet place as of late–the political storms, the weather issues, and the transit follies. Surprisingly to me, I find myself sometimes wondering why we continue to live here. Though today, I drove through the city, and I’m happy to report that it was easy to find all my old loving feelings for the city.

I took the long way home and remembered that there are so many places around with so many great memories attached. Memories of me and my bosom chum–the things we did, and the places we met up, the places we took pictures. I’ll sure miss her while she’s gone.

Magical Adventures

I had already lost her earlier this year. A result of the time and space and the things happening in our lives that began to naturally separate us. An undesired side affect of desirable life changes, I suppose.

I met her in December 2005, at my kindred’s birthday party on Robert. She was wearing mauve, and I knew instantly I wanted to be friends with her. Later, I saw her kitchen and wondered even more about how we were going to become friends. And then, months later, after having moved to Toronto, I found myself meeting her at Spadina and Dundas on our way to see Final Fantasy at the Music Gallery. I’m sure you’ve heard this before.

Photo courtesy of http://wecbmusic.blogspot.ca/

After watching Owen Pallett perform incredible magic on his violin, we headed back to my apartment on Robert for leftovers of the food I had made earlier in the day. There was souvlaki, spanokopita, dolmades and tzaziki–probably the most elaborate Greek meal I had ever prepared. I played her all my favourites from the latest Belle and Sebastian album. We danced around my apartment, smoked a bit and I’m sure had some drinks all before exiting the back door to make our way to the Cloak. There was nothing unusual about the path we took on our way over to see the Gospel Sundays, but AJ’s keen eye noticed a weird lumpy case sitting on top of a postal box. After stopping and inspecting the case, we revealed the contents. A violin.

We found a fucking violin on the side of the road after having just attended a concert featuring the violin!

There was no one to be seen in the immediate proximity of the violin, and we left a note on the post box for the owner to contact us. We never found it’s rightful owner. AJ still has it today. I don’t think she brought it on the plane though, but one day, she’ll learn to play.

It’s a special and unique friendship story that I will carry in my heart forever….re-telling it at whatever chance I get. A cosmic beginning to the friendship I had been looking for all my life. I don’t know how else to describe it–our friendship that is. I have a lot of people I really truly love in my life that are special to me in a lot of different ways. Friends for greater than 30 years, some. Others I’ve known only for a short time, and others still, who I never see or talk to, yet they continue to reside deeply in my heart.

What developed with AJ is a cosmic friendship with a bosom chum. And I’m sure she feels the same way too.

Bosom Chums

I miss her, I do. But I already missed her. In a lot of ways I feel alone without her, and I have for the last while. I’ve shared some of the most incredible moments of my life with her. She has this ability to make any event, situation or circumstance magical. At times I wonder if she IS in fact some magical and mystical creature like Loch Ness or Big Foot. But she photographs well and I’ve seen her reflection in the mirror with my own eyes.

I have three biological sisters, and I am not close with any of them, and speak to them very little, if at all. There’s a myriad of reasons for this I suppose…distance, age gaps, lack of common ground. I haven’t thought about it enough to really understand why…but we’ve never been close, so I’ve never felt that that sister connection was missing in my life nor was I even aware that there even is such a thing as a sisterly connection.

As AJ and I grew closer over time, I grew to love her immensely and care about her in a way that was unfamiliar to me. The only way I can describe it is that I must love her the way that sister’s love each other. And it is a love that will never die.

The second time one of your very best friends moves away in a matter of months isn’t fun/ It is, in fact, exponentially lonelier. I don’t think I have fully accepted the fact that she is gone, and I’ll probably become drastically more aware, when she is not here when this little baby arrives. I know for certain, though, that her pursuits are noble and I’m excited for the chapters that will unfold for her after her short stint away at school in Northern Alberta.

So I wait for her return, and I think of her fondly. My magical, amazing and lovely bosom chum. Sweet, sweet Alana.

My 30th birthday sleep over

In the Alley by the Pie

A stroll after Saturday Afternoon high tea

Turkey Coma on her favourite holiday

Straight from the bottle

On our way to see Mates of State

My first mother’s day, and I’m feeling nostalgic. Mostly because of the music.

I’m remembering how I used to do this all the time–sit around and listen to music and write crazy things about my life. I was reading back some of those things and I really did have a crazy life…like the pantsless dancing night with AJ. That seems like such a long time ago.

We’ve been watching the Sopranos–we’re almost done the entire series–and yesterday Tony Soprano said “Remember When is the lowest form of conversation”. While I love reminising as much as the next guy, I completely agree. I love my memories, but there are much more impending things to discuss, no? I guess you can’t make new memories by talking about old memories.

While I know today is mother’s day, I’m not going to write about my mum. Nor am I going to write about being a mum or brag about how I’ve carried a baby for nine months, or slept with a baby on my chest blah blah blah.

I’m thinking back to a day I can’t remember. Well, I guess I can remember it, just not the details. Normally I know what I was wearing, what song was playing and what I was drinking, but not this night. I was standing at the bar at the Cloak, on a Sunday night, I had just dumped one guy, was pursuing another and I was introduced to a young fellow by my good friend Brian. I thought nothing of it at the time, I was obviously preoccupied. I do remember it being a supreme night at the Cloak–I think it was a long weekend, as I didn’t have to work on the Monday. I wish I could remember the exact date. It makes me crazy that I can’t.

Fast forward to a year or so later. I’d had the “one last disastrous Peattie heartbreak” that I’d predicted when I parted ways with Mr. Ribs, and things with the One Who Loved Me just were not going to work out. I was single again, on the prowl, and I was invited to a birthday party at the Duke of Gloucester…again, Brian’s doing. Brian told me that his friend who was having the birthday had asked specifically for him to invite me. It was the young fellow I had met at the Cloak the year or so prior. I had completely forgot that I had even met him…forgot that he’d even existed. I’m still not sure to this day if Brian made that part up, but I guess it doesn’t really matter now. Anyways, I was shocked that he remembered me but figured it would be a blast either way, so off I set to this birthday party. The birthday party that changed my life. I spent the night, after many shots of jager and tequila, leaning against a wall staring into the eyes of the birthday boy like nothing else around us existed.

Today I see those same eyes staring up at me as I feed my baby.

After a couple of dates with him, I didn’t really see a future for us. I figured he was going to be another flash in the pan that was my social life. He seemed eager, sometimes too good to be true, and really, he wouldn’t stand for my snarky side, so he wasn’t going to last…this I was sure of. He could read my signals though, and that’s for sure, and I don’t mean in a sexy kindof way. He backed off when he needed to and advanced when the light was green. He knew all the right things to say and all the right moves to make. All the right moves for me.

Suddenly I’d found someone who was good enough, smart enough, and dog gone it–he liked me! His list of favourite bands was more than acceptable, he had a pretty good fashion sense and he was just as cool as me. It took me a while to learn all these things about him, but eventually I came to know that he was the one for me, and that I was in love.

I’d fallen in love so many times before, sometimes a couple of times a day. I was boy-crazy, but falling in love this time was the end of all that craziness. I’d met my soul mate, my life partner, my future husband. He’s perfect for me in every way. While I loved that craziness that was my life, it was worth giving it up for him. For the contentedness I’ve found in him and our relationship. He’s with me till the end of this extraordinary life, and he’ll be game the whole way.

I sit here and look at him reclining in his torn dad-type chair, wearing his fatherly checked shirt, with his dad-like hair cut, snacking on potato chips and playing video games and I’m so thankful. It’s because of him I celebrate mother’s day.

Thanks Martin.