We’ve had a couple of extraordinary date nights during the last couple of weeks.
Last night the Beast suggested we pick up Maker Pizza after work and finish watching Paul Thomas Anderson’s The Master. We’d started the film the night before but I couldn’t stay up to finish it, maybe because I was full of an incredible minestrone-style soup the Beast had made (the secret, he says, is popping in some parmigiano rinds as it simmers, and sautéing the mirepoix in more butter than you think you need) and this Sicilian Nero d’Avola, which was worth every cent of the splurge. Or perhaps it was because we’d already finished Francois Truffault’s The 400 Blows, a movie that the Beast gets quite choked up about, especially the ending, and which I remember not warming to in the same way. This time around, however, it hit home in all the right ways. What a beautifully sad film!
This morning I happened upon my Google history from last night:
How many calories in sleeve saltine crackers?
How many calories in saltines with chedder [sic] butter?
Harry Dean Stanton Straight Story
David Lynch quote ‘sit back and enjoy the mystery’
Pablo Escobar Narcos actor
It’s been an odd summer.
Actually, Summer, maybe it’s not you. I think it’s me.
I feel restless, aimless, and have a hard time focusing. It could be work anxiety. It could be the headlines. It could be that I’m itching to get away but can’t decide where I want to go. It could be that time is ticking and one day I will be dead. On top of this, my beloved Thoreau keychain broke, which feels symbolic.
Walking to Skyline Restaurant, a much-loved Parkdale diner recently under new management, on Friday night:
Beast: You met Maggie at the Lemon Tree House writing retreat, right?
Foodie: Sort of. We actually met years ago when she was a bartender at The Paddock and the old Terroni crew would go in after our shift for last call. Then she went on to open the Dakota Tavern, and then The Ace. Last time I saw Maggie, she told me she was really interested in hearing your thoughts on Skyline once she got it up and running, on account of what you said about The Ace.
Beast: What did I say?
There’s a scene at the end of A Christmas Story–and stop reading now if you’ve never seen the film that plays on TV 24 hours a day leading up to December 25 because there will be spoilers–where the family’s Yuletide feast is ruined. Not to be defeated, the dad gathers everyone up and they head out to a Chinese restaurant, Chop Suey Palace, where they’re introduced to Peking duck. Unaccustomed to seeing their dinner “smile at them,” the restaurateur unceremoniously chops off the crispy bird’s head. Et voilà, dinner is served!
The Beast and I blinked and there went summer, without a vacation together to speak of.
So, last week, I took three days off work. Friday and Saturday I spent with my mom. We did the usual: Costco, Walmart and the Superstore. I got her all stocked up with supplies. At Costco, a woman did a double-take when she saw me, my mom practically willing her to do so, and said: “You look like that girl from The View.”
Last night we got a bit cray-cray and watched Wedding Crashers followed by The King of Comedy.
In keeping with living on the edge, I ate dinner–some sushi and sashimi that we picked up from Sushi Nomi on Roncesvalles–in my new white cotton Ralph Lauren romper.
It took about 37 seconds before I had soy sauce spilled all down the front.