Well, my attempt to revitalize my blog this summer has somewhat flopped. Perhaps I have been writing slightly more this summer, but really only slightly. Ideally, I would like to post one entry a week in order to keep this weblog alive and well.
Between rehearsals for the Dairyfest youth production and my piano lessons and practices, I try to go to work five days a week, as well as do this summer justice.
In Lennoxville, we watched the drama department’s musical and ate pie on the roof; in Toronto, we partied queer and went up the CN Tower; in Sheenboro, we went four-wheeling and did some horseback riding which left me with tender thighs. Other highlights would include Andrea painting a watercolour portrait of me for my birthday (which, incidentally, she found creepy later on, even though I was elated), and the actor playing the Chancellor, a character in The Ugly Duckling, finally understand his part.
Visiting Sheenboro in Quebec was an interesting experience. First of all, it doesn’t even feel like you are in Quebec; French was nowhere to be seen nor heard, and the town and everything in it is covered in shamrocks. They all think they are Irish; or, rather, they all are Irish. The closest town to Sheenboro is Pembroke, where all the Sheenborites do their shopping and “urban” activities. Now, I thought I lived in the boonies, but seeing Sheenboro and where Kyle lived, I could see that this really was the middle of nowhere. It was a gorgeous area though: breathtaking cliffs, dense forests covering the rolling hills, kilometres of sandy beaches along the Ottawa river...
We went riding in his mother’s slick convertible, and he showed us the land that his family owned and where his grandfather used to take him fishing. Later on, we went swimming, and then had a good two hours of horseback riding. Andrea was very wary of getting onto a horse, whereas I was nervous, yet very excited. It had been at least six years since I had ridden a horse. As soon as I hopped on, I suddenly felt very comfortable and in control. Perhaps it is because I am older and maybe even stronger, but riding a horse was so much easier than it had ever been. I had never been able to really control a horse without getting scared before, so this newfound control was very empowering.
I walked, trotted, cantered, and even had an accidental gallop, which admittedly, was a time I did lose control. I went barreling over the hill at top speed, only because the horse was trying to catch up with the other one. Kyle’s sister was watching me from the kitchen window and screeched when she saw the horse take off in a gallop. I, however, recovered quickly from the incident and resumed my cool composure. Yes, cool. Calm. In control. Speaking of being in control, I am often told that this is one of my faults, naturally because I am the eldest sibling, but I think in this case, it was quite useful.
Last Friday evening, Andrea took me out to the Brigadoon for my birthday, which is a long time favourite restaurant of hers. We put on sophisticated looking clothes, had a two-hour rehearsal, then hopped into her van and booted it to the restaurant. Isaac came with us because we were his only ride, but luckily, he has a friend in Oxford Mills, where the Brigadoon is, and he would be visiting his friend, leaving Andrea and I to our romantic meal.
Well, the minute I stepped into the restaurant, I see Martina and Ashley. Oh, what a coincidence, they are also eating here tonight! Oh, and look, there is Matt, and Amanda, and Paula... and Thomas?... What?!
Yes, it took me about that long, perhaps even longer, to figure out that Andrea had arranged a surprise birthday party for me right under my nose. And when I say right under my nose, it is no exaggeration, since the party was planned using my computer. Andrea’s internet is down at the moment, which forced her to use the computer of the only person she was hiding this entire plan from! She was cunning and slipped into my bedroom through the drainage pipe. Oh, and Isaac doesn’t have a friend in Oxford Mills at all: that was just another ploy to add to the intricate web of birthday foolery. Well, I digress.
The party was stupendous; the supper at the Brigadoon was magnifique, the bonfire afterwards, very enjoyable, and then Fimke-made cinnamon buns at breakfast the following morning, divine. My birthday had already extended itself well after the original date, so why not keep the party going?
That afternoon found a bunch of us at the National Arts Centre (NAC), taking the tour of the theatre. Afterwards, we lounged around on the grass by the canal, a few of us lying in the sun, the rest, huddled under the shade of the tree, reading feverishly the first chapter of Harry Potter. After a satisfying supper at Le Marché (now under a different name, which I refuse to remember), we headed to Lebreton Flats, in anticipation of the band, Spirit of the West, accompanied -- here’s the icing on the cake -- by the NAC orchestra. The band members danced and grooved, the main singer made us all swoon, and the drummer even had his own solo, in which he took full advantage of having an orchestra behind him. At one point, the maestro stepped down, fooled around on the piano, which, really, I would call more than simply “fooling around” * he owned that piano, caressing it so ardently, yet so gently that I could barely contain my WOOOOs. The maestro and the bass player jammed together on a jazz piece entitled “Unfinished Business”, in which they promised that they would finish it. The orchestra came in sometime in the middle, which was astounding in itself, but I personally could not keep my eyes off of the piano playing maestro.
The Spirit of the West wrapped up the evening with their hit “Home for a Rest”, and I got up and danced myself to a frenzy, whilst frequently looking up at the drop dead gorgeous (at least twenty five years my senior) lead singer.
The evening ended over a bonfire, singing and playing tunes; highlights included an acoustic version of “Origin of Love” and a carousing round of “Carrot Juice is Murder”, courtesy of Bab and Isaac.
Perhaps the main reason that my blog has been suffering is due to my rather short amount of time spent on the internet. Because I am not forced to sit idly or sometimes rather frustratingly by a computer researching or concocting scholarly sentences, I instead find myself on a bicycle, drinking wine on my porch roof, or playing beach volleyball.
This summer isn’t as exciting or as glamourous as last’s, but I don’t mind; in fact, I am thoroughly enjoying myself.
Again, I find myself exactly where I want to be.