Driving west on the 401 to London, Ont., to see my mom on Saturday morning:
Beast: That’s a nice Lincoln you just passed. You know, if I drove a Lincoln I wouldn’t stop doing Matthew McConaughey impressions the whole time.
Foodie: It’s probably for the best that we drive a VW.
Beast: Whoa! Did you see that?
Foodie: What? Where?
Driving to the cottage on Friday night:
Beast: Hypothetical question: If you could be a little waterfall, a big waterfall, a stream or a babbling brook, what would you be?
Beast: Take your time on this one. I really want you to think about it.
Foodie: We are going to eat like kings this weekend! I think we’ll do up the sausages tonight and then have the macaroni and cheese tomorrow night. You should see the wine I got. I don’t even care that it’s supposed to rain all weekend.
Beast: Have you thought about it?
Foodie: Yes. I’d be a stream so that I was always moving and discovering new things.
Beast: Interesting choice. I’d choose the big waterfall because then I’d be huge.
Sipping something approximating a Manhattan the other night, but with cardamom bitters and star anise, for cocktail hour:
Foodie: What’s that playing?
Beast: Kanye’s new album. A lot of people are shitting on it but it’s great.
Last Tuesday was a long one. I was up at 5:00 a.m. putting the finishing touches on my Metro column, I co-hosted the show, which means 9:00 a.m. until 2:00 p.m. is a bit of a blur, then I was lucky enough to conduct a 45-minute-long Q&A with Michael Bonacini in front of some 800 people at the Carlu, and from there, I went straight to the Canadian Screen Awards.
I wore the same dress all day. I don’t know if it was the material or my nerves–or perhaps a combination of both–but my pits wouldn’t stop perspiring. I was shoving tissue under them all day, like I used to do in Grade 8 when this problem first presented itself. There was a moment, when I was seated between my two bosses at the CSA dinner, that I could smell myself. It made me so anxious that I started to sweat even more.
When I got home I found the Beast on the couch and an empty Pizza Hut box on the coffee table. He gave me a hug and then said, “Wow!”
Upstairs, in the bedroom, after work:
Beast: You know what I was thinking about today?
Foodie: What’s that?
Beast: How we’ll never have gender equality as long as it’s impossible for men to feel comfortable wearing long, chunky sweaters synched at the waist by a nice belt.
A recent work assignment landed me on board the Disney Fantasy for a seven-day cruise. Here is the text exchange that the Beast and I shared while I was away. (This conversation has been edited for clarity, length and so I don’t get fired.)
Beast: Scorsese biopic on the Dali Lama is on Youtube. I am going to watch it tonight. Miss you so much already.
Beast: Have you decided if you’re getting cornrows on the cruise yet? I think it’s something you should decide before you step onboard.
Beast: Can you believe that “how do I become the physical embodiment of jazz” was the #1 Google search from our IP address in 2015!?! Astounding.
The Beast and I realized that his dad has probably seen Nick Edwards more than we have this year, which hardly seems fair.
We enjoyed both their company at the Beast’s dad’s pop-up art reception. A few of Nick’s illustrations are included in the show; specifically, illustrations from Bumble Bear, a children’s story that the Beast wrote years ago.
Posted in At Home
Tagged A&W, David Gadke, historic hotels, Key West, Nick Edwards, Pines and Palms resort, South Beach, Steve Jobs, teen burgers, The Angler's Hotel, The Gardens Hotel, Versace mansion