Hmmm. Well the weekend was a bit of a mixed bag.

Friday night I met up with J for a work drinks thing (supposedly something of a belated leaving so for J as well, since he changed buildings at his job). I was all prepared to be chatty and social and cute. Except that for the entire two hours we were there, almost all his old colleagues failed to even acknowledge our presence! It started out kind of strange, and got progressively wierder the longer we were there. They all stood around drinking, looking like they were enjoying a root canal, talking about work, whilst studiously avoiding glancing at anything other than the depths of the drink in front of them. After two agonizingly long pints, J decided he’d made enough of an effort and we went home and had a lovely sushi dinner. Mmmm. You gotta love edamame – like nature’s little bubble wrap. Satisfyingly poppy and entirely addictive. And eel, ugly as sin, but tasty as hell.

Saturday morning was downright dreary, putting the kibosh on my plans for a run down to the river, so instead I decided to intoduce J to the uniquely american delights of mixing the sweet and savoury on the breakfast plate, in the form of cinnamon french toast with maple syrup and bacon. Why this seems so stomach churning to the uninitiated, I’ll never understand, but after skeptically sampling a bit, J seemed to come around. To work it all off, J decided to introduce me to the game of squash. He warned me as we were heading to the courts that I would be tired and sore, but I dismissed his cautions as exaggerated. Spent the next hour and a half running absolutely ragged, chasing maniacally (and very ungracefully) after a little hard non-bouncy ball, slamming into walls, and sweating like a pig. I used ass muscles I didn’t even know I had. Came home and spent the evening chilling (well, immobile, more accurately) with a movie and dinner.

Sunday morning, we got up and got ready for rock climbing, gathered our gear, headed out to Bruce (the car)… only to find the window had been smashed and the radio stolen. Argh. Spent the better part of the morning calling in a police report, checking insurance policies, calling autoglass repair places. Bah humbug. Since our morning plans were trashed, J decided to make french toast *his way*. With garlic and ketchup. Definitely savoury – it’s good, but a little disconcerting, as my brain kept expecting a different taste than what my mouth experienced. It’s good, but it takes a little getting used to. Went to Sydenham and got some perspex put into the window (the glass won’t be in for a day or so), went and had a pint down the street (vandalism does tend to dampen one’s spirit a bit, but we enjoyed thinking of cruel and unusual ways to exact our revenge), and J made a lamb roast for sunday dinner.

may you die a long, slow, painful death, you stoopid thieves…

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