Polish Festival

On my walk home from school I pass a Polish Orthodox Catholic church. Last week there was a homemade sign out front advertising a Polish Festival with cultural entertainment, food, and merchandise. So this Saturday, I convinced Kyle that we should head on over to the Polish festival for some sweet post-workout perogy action.

I have to say that the sign was a bit misleading and the event was fairly low key. So much so that it was a bit awkward. In the parking lot that served as a venue, there was one table of used books and another displaying ceramic figurines for sale. The entertainment was one guy with an accordion (in defense of the Polish festival, I think there were dancers earlier in the day). Regardless, the food was good and the people were very friendly, so I was content. As I sat eating my delicious perogies and trying to look Polish, I wondered if everyone else at the festival could tell that Kyle and I weren't part of the Polish Posse.

Hands down, the highlight of the Festival was seeing the nuns who live down the street. They were just hanging out in their habits, doing whatever it is that Polish nuns do at festivals. I got super pumped when I saw them and told Kyle for the millionth time about how much I love these old-style nuns who live in our neighbourhood. Whenever I see them, it makes my day.

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I especially love it when they mow their lawn in full habit. That reminds me that I haven't happened to see them mowing the lawn yet this year. Maybe I should go on an undercover midnight fertilizing operation to increase my chances...

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The image above is from a calendar called "Nuns Having Fun". How great is that? The only calendar I can imagine appreciating more would be Nuns Doing Yard Work.

Oh the Suspense

This morning I was looking at my friend Paul's blog, which I enjoy immensely. On it he had posted this video which has made me laugh all day. I was even giggling to myself about it as I mowed the lawn.

I wonder how someone managed to record this gopher at the very moment it learned that Dave was driving in the vicinity.

Introducing My New Purple and Green Cankle

Last weekend I was invited to go hiking at Yamnuska with one of my good friends and her husband. We had a fantastic time just being out in the mountains and appreciating the scenery. My favourite part of the hike was when we ran/slid down a giant skree field, which is a long slope of loose gravel. I felt very hardcore.

Unfortunately, I felt much less hardcore when I tripped over a rock in the middle of a flat path about 15 minutes from the parking lot, twisting my ankle. (Hi Mom and Dad. I hurt myself again. Aren't you glad you don't have to pick me up and take me to the hospital anymore?)

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My hiking buddies were lovely, lending me their shoulders to lean on and even giving me a piggy back ride when we encountered a particularly steep hill. I have to say that after someone carries my sweaty self on their back down a mountain, we share a very special kind of bond. ,,,,,,,,,,,

My friends lovingly brought me home and supplied me with Advil and a frozen bag of peas. They fussed over me and left only when I promised that Kyle would come home right away. I phoned Kyle at work and requested that he bring me some Indian take-out, which is well-known for its healing properties.

Kyle came home to see his wife laying in front of the TV with a puffy leg, unsuccessfully trying to gnaw the cork out of an unfinished bottle of wine that had been left on the coffee table.

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My foot really has not been very sore but it sure does look gross. That's definitely the best kind of injury. I've decided to follow Kyle's lead and take a photo of my wound. Please enjoy Cankle 2007.

More Cowbell

Everyday on my bus ride home from my practicum, I would pass this sign. It's just down the hill from our house marking a playground zone (for a distant ghost-town of a park that's surrounded by a chain-link fence).

It always made my day to pass this sign. I imagined that some tagging punk had sprayed a little Grim Reaper onto the sign to give extra warning to anyone who might be tempted to speed.

"Hey you, in the pimped-out Tempo with the $4000 stereo. You'd better fear the Reaper... Yeah that's right. It's 30 km/h!"

Sadly, upon closer inspection the black figure looks more like a wizard. And I've seen him spray-painted in much less perilous places onto things like mail boxes and walls. But that's okay. It still makes me happy when I pass it.

More Meow Mix

Check out this link to see what comes up first if you google
"i want chicken i want liver"

You'll be glad you did.