To be honoured

Friendships made quickly on such a happy occasion!

I think I'm a good person who makes friends easily, but it's always uber-wicked when this is recognized. I don't need confirmation, really, but it does put a song in my heart and a dance in my step when another person steps up and puts his or her arm around you to say "You know, you're alright, kid." It's all about the connections you make, day in day out.

It happened today. A friend I met while on a holiday/tropical wedding contacted me on the Facebook chat to share some news: he's getting married. I had met him once at my friend's wedding two years ago in the Dominican Republic. He's a friend of the groom, a childhood friend who, despite the miles that separate them now, has asked my friend to be his best man. The connections are still there, the tie is unbreakable. And, in while sharing the news of his newborn daughter and his upcoming nuptuals, he extended the ultimate invitation. Despite meeting only once on such a happy occasion, he uttered the words (actually he typed them but I just imagine him speaking them): You know, if you can come to the wedding, you're invited. We'd love for you to come and join us.

In my years, I've found this commonplace among Dominicans, the instant acceptance, the throwing open of the arms to welcome you to the fold, no matter how your affiliation or no matter how long you've known them, or even your exposure to them. They are so very welcoming and loving, immediately opening up to you as family.

I was touched and immediately considered the invitation. Of course, I'd have to save for it, especially considering my skint stint in which I find myself. But, I'm honoured to be invited, considered, recognized as friend, as family.

It left me in a good mood for the rest of the day. I was light, I was jovial, I was exhuberant. And thrilled. It didn't hurt that I stepped on the scale at WeightWatchers to discover I had lost 3 lbs, bringing my total to-date to 10. Ten pounds down. I feel lighter already, not just in my body, but also in my soul. I'm on my journey, bloggers and it will be a hell of a ride.

Summer is delish!

It's Wednesday night and I've just spent a delicious night in downtown T.O. Well, not in the downtown core but on the outskirts but it was delicious just the same. My yentas and I spent the evening waxing poetic over a three-course meal at one of Toronto's top spots, North 44 on Yonge St. It was part of the city's Summerlicious promotion where the city's restaurants and its plethora of culinary experts offer a tasting - a three-course tasting - of some of their best recipes. I want to go again before Summerlicious' end this Sunday, but next time I'll check out another place. There are so many more restaurants than the usual Swiss Chalet or Montana's and I'd like to try them all.

I live in the suburbs -- yes, I'm a suburbanite. Always have been, having lived in the bedroom community of Brampton since I was knee-high to a zygot. But, I used to spend every weekend downtown, usually in one of the clubs where I would stay past close before moving on to an after-hours party.

I take the car into the city occasionally now, usually keeping my vehicle west of the 401 (I needed the GPS tonight, I'm so directionally illiterate). This wasn't always the case. I used to dream of living downtown, preferably in a loft close to the subway line. I longed for a downtown job, with downtown friends and downtown dreams, the city my playground. My friend Magnet asked me tonight where I could imagine myself living if I wasn't in Brampton. It wasn't that long ago that Toronto was always top on my list, followed by Edinburgh, Montreal and even Ottawa. But tonight, I couldn't think of an answer. Have I really changed that much? I hadn't thought so but now I'm really not sure.

What job would I have? Would I be the artistic, writer type sitting in a floor-to-ceiling glass high-rise? Or on a rooftop patio, my patio of my re-furbished warehouse loft? Or how about in a small, war-time house with not enough space and no parking, but incredible architecture? Would I be working on a major daily newspaper, or working for a monthly magazine?

Regardless of my position, I know that I would be enjoying the city to the fullest. Suburbs seem to be so spread out, and Brampton's case, the roads are just as crowded here than they would be downtown. The reason? Our bus system sucks and it takes two to three hours to get anywhere. In Toronto, your favourite coffee shop is usually just down the street - a five- to 10-minute walk even in the worst weather. And, I'd get to enjoy more nights like these, without the 40-minute drive home on two major highways.

Toronto is definitely Summerlicious and I look forward to exploring more of the city. Will it be a place where I'll permanently rest my head? That remains to be seen. Until then, I'll enjoy the rest of this great promotion. Bring on the scallops, yentas. Scribe has a rumblin' in the tummy only scallops in a curry-coriander-okra infusion can satisfy.

I love you, man!

I have a friend who is an addiction counsellor. A really good one. He heads up a national addiction support group called CAST Canada. He counsels addicts and he trains the professionals that counsel the addicts and he's learned this because he knows how they feel. He's been there - he's an addict too. What set him straight was what he calls countless "I love you sandwiches." Hey, listen man, I love you but you're screwing up royally. You're abusing yourself and we don't like what drugs do to you. But, we still love you.







I learned this while working as editor-in-chief of a community newspaper. It was an afternoon of revelations. The intent was to learn about his journey and what got him to a place where he could understand himself, his addiction, and in turn, others' addictions. And while I haven't talked to him in what seems like ages, his message always stuck and it made me realize that I've had people deliver that same "I love you sandwich" to me.


In my life, I've been lucky to call three people best friend - my Scottish best friend, my adolescent best friend and my high school best friend. I wish there were other names that I could use that would adequately describe what they mean to me. Where is the rule that you can have only one best friend? I'm happy that I choose not to fit that rule. Otherwise, I'd be missing three different servings of these sandwiches.



The first set of "I love you sandwiches" was served piping hot to me when I was visiting my Scottish best friend. I was busy feeling sorry for myself and my lot in life to realize that it was up to me to make the best life possible, not my parents and their version of who I should be. At 16, my friend liked me for me, for my quirkiness, my sense of humour, not to mention my incredible great taste in friends. Seriously, she taught me that I should love myself because if I didn't then I was showing her that she was a liar and that she was stupid for holding me in such high regard. She delivered another one the night before my wedding - again piping hot - that I was marrying for the wrong reason. This one she delivered a little gentler. It was my wedding day, after all. Two years and a divorce later and I heard her message loud and clear. That I was too good to accept second best.


This past weekend, I was delivered two sandwiches by my two here-and-now best friends. These girls each have their own stash of dirt on me, and those secrets will go to their grave with them (much to the disappointment of my man). They also know the person I am and that's why they both sat me down and told me that they were worried about me. Now, I'm not saying that I've booked the train to the funny farm. Normally, I'm a well-adjusted person, but like everyone, I've got my demons. Mine comes in the matriarchal form and can be evidenced in one of last month's posts. It's a demon that I've struggled with all my life and it's not an easy demon to eradicate. It's had years to set up shop. What is ironic is that the "I love you sandwiches" came on the same weekend, by two separate people. These are people who love me for all of my foibles. They see my true essence and know that even though I might not share their opinion of me 100 per cent of the time, they tell me time and time again that in their eyes, I don't come up short.


Sure, I may piss them off. I'm notoriously vague on my arrival time. They know if I say I'll be there in half-an-hour, they can tack on 5 to 15 minutes. I'm anal about grammar and people using non-word words. I also tend to put others' needs and wants above my own and lose myself and my needs in the process. These are my issues and they tease me because they love me, foibles and all.


This past weekend, I was scheduled to dance my ass off for a girls' night/birthday party. I hadn't been out dancing in what seemed like years. And, how I love to dance! Two hours before heading out, however, I was debating on whether to go. I was nervous about putting myself out there, extra weight and warts, to dance among the beautiful people. Younger, more svelte beautiful people. Okay, so I don't have warts, but I have the extra weight and for that I am more than a bit self-conscious. I'm also angry at myself for letting me get to the point where I feel self-conscious. Best friends Mags and Anasatan (names have been changed to protect what Mags describes as the innocents - ha!) both said, in their own words, get over yourself and get out there. So what if you've gained a few extra pounds. Pick yourself up, shave those legs and get on your dancing shoes. The fun will follow. And follow it did. Sure, I felt a little out of place but once I closed my eyes and started to move, the insecurities and Margaret's voice faded away. I was again the Dancing Queen. For four hours.


It's now two days later and I'm still on a high. I went out. I saw, I danced and I conquered, and I have the best three best friends one could ever find. My physical self is still there. That will change over time, with exercise and eating healthy, but my mental state is in a different realm, a realm that can only be reached if I listen to my heart and hold myself in the same high regard as my three kemosabes do. I must be smart if I chose them as my friends.