Fabulous husband says that the one things that unifies Canada, above NOT being British and definitely NOT being American, above a love of beer and grilled cheese sandwiches (and having just typed that can you guess what I'm craving for dinner tonight? that's right) the one thing that ties the nation together is a deep rooted hatred of Toronto. And there's a lot to hate. There's obvious and televised crime, apathy, poverty, arrogance, opulence, and a general sense of disconnect. There are, however, a number of things I love.
I love the lake. The grey, toothless, foamy waves that reach the shore and ebb just a bit now and then in a barely perceivable tide. Big and deep and full of secrets, Lake Ontario may be frothy at the edges but a few waves out and it glows. It tries.
I love the rivers. I love that people tried to build OVER the rivers and so there are streets with sinking houses on jaunty angles.
I love the CN tower, and the pilgrims that come to worship at its substantial girth and length. I love that you can see it from everywhere, and if you know you live to this way from the tower and you're standing that way, you've been drinking and walking too long and it's time to go home, using it as guide.
I love the little villages within the city, the multiculturalism. I loved being able to ask an east Indian woman on a subway if my nose ring offended her, culturally. We had a great talk in which for the first five minutes I thought she said that noserings were compensation for long term relationships. Turns out she said compulsory.
I love the coffee, and that you can get it any where, any time. I love the live theatre and random examples of questionable corporate art. I love parks and aggressive squirrels. I love the raccoons, which is handy because they're taking over.
I love the Rorschach filth stains on the side walk, and looking closer to see they're the memory of leaves as well as spilled sodas.
I love the music, how it's everywhere. I love subway musicians best of all, and today my favorite ones were playing at Broadview when I came home a little early today - Japanese flute and accordion playing a mix of when the saints go marching in and that Beatles song that goes "la la la la life goes on". Just perfect.

And that was going to be the end of this post - but wait, there's more. Eight words from the end of the last sentence of the preceding paragraph, we had to take Ripley to her vet appointment. She has acne, and by the vets estimation needed a shot to clear it up, and took that all in disgruntled stride. Come time to weigh her? Well, she's a lady, and a fair sized one at that so wiggled nearly free of the vet who was barely able to pronounce her a demure 14lbs. Down one pound since we got her - not bad. Then he handed her back to me.

When she's upset or protesting, she wiggles like a pug. You know how they wiggle? Sort of throw themselves backward, paws up, in a tornado like movement. Pretty hard to keep hold of something as dexterous as a cat when she's wiggling like a pug. So she made it up to my shoulder and sat there, then went over to about the middle of my back forcing me to bend forward sharply at the waist. Then she sat down. Fabulous husband and vet had a good laugh, then vet picked her off my back and handed her back to me once I got right side up. She did it again, this time standing between my shoulders. This time the guys didn't/couldn't help so I sighed, marched into the ajoining room, picked up her carrier, put it on a table with the gate facing inward, turned around and stood up. Cat jumped right from my back into the box. This is where having the camera would have been a good thing because funny? Funny as hell. Take it to Vegas, nobody would go to see Celine.

Anywho. Just finished the grill cheese, on to the beer and then back to work.