One Great City

I'm going to ask that all readers direct there attention away from the date on my last blog post and play along with me as I do my best to convince you that it hasn't been three months since you last heard from me, and I could make up a story about a time warp, or the internet exploding... but no matter how hard I sell it, you probably won't buy it.

It's a new year so lets start fresh with a little life update. We no longer reside at 42 Park Avenue, which make the the title of this blog a little misleading. I thought about changing the URL, but "415 Stradbrook" just doesn't have that ring to it. "The Wakefield" was a promising candidate with a lot of potential but in the end, I had too many sentimental, schmaltzy, and mushy feelings about Park Avenue to let it die. I'm a sap, what else is new?

Well, not really that much. Sally continues to eat my shoes, I killed a poinsettia and my hippo-teapot got a camel-teapot-friend to keep him company (thanks Jen!). There was a trip to North Dakota where I met my maker in a bottle of Shiraz, and Visa put a hold on my credit card. Steve took a trip to Vegas to drive sports cars, shoot guns, and ogle showgirls. Versache, Coach and Corningware all made an appearance on Christmas morning, and while you were counting down or kissing someone special on New Years Eve, I was taking Sally outside so that she could poop. happy. new. year.

Now lets talk about life in Winnipeg. Unlike in Ottawa, I can no longer wear my pajama pants in public, because nine times out of ten, I run into somebody who I know, or who knows me, or knows Steve, or my mom, or Steve's mom... actually nine times out of ten, they're in pajamas too. In Winnipeg there aren't six degrees of separation, there are only three (and there's no dress code at Superstore)). It's more likely than not that I'll recognize the person in front of me at Starbucks from a University class or as an old co-worker, or that I went to highschool with the asshole who just cut me off.

But, it's a good thing that you know so many people here, because you certainly won't be bussing to Montreal to visit friends for the weekend, and you won't be carpooling to Toronto or New York either. Your road tripping options are limited at best. Fargo, Grand Forks, Regina or Brandon. Take your pick. Realistically you could do all that there is to do in all of the aforementioned cities in a few fun-filled days, but why would you want to?

Lets talk some more about the city where I "got grown" and how it compares to our capital. Parking is $1/hr, not $12; a beer will set you back $4.50, not $7; our liquor commission is still open after 6pm; the ice on our skating path hasn't been destroyed by hundreds of bureaucrats on their way to the office but unless you're wearing every piece of clothing you own, you're going to freeze your everything off while you're on it; sushi is to Winnipeg what shwarma is to Ottawa; our main highway runs around the city, not through it; and your dad might drive an Audi but my dad drives a Ford F250 that makes smart cars wet themselves.

"and in the dollar store the clerk is closing up , and counting loonies trying not to say... I hate winnipeg"