Saturday, September 27: A walk to the beach in the morning with Bea, and a stop on the rocks to look at the sunrise.
Letting the dog loose along the cove so that he could chase the ducks.
Pastries and hot drinks from Zane patisserie.
Sending the girl to the art supply store to pick out a new sketch book for herself while I waited patiently, or not so patiently, on the patio next door with my coffee and the tail end of my pain au chocolat.
She went in with the last of the petty cash and came out with a sketch book, pens, and 50 cents in change.
Fantastic smelling soap. Everyone smelling of fantastic soap.
Two tickets to the 1:30 Matinee of Wicked at the Ed Mirvish Theatre in her hands.
Braiding her thick thick hair to the side, following a tutorial we googled five minutes before we left the house. Miraculous. Worked the first time.
Talking about thick, less-itchy sweaters, maybe, and spicy salmon.
Her cat shoes. She was wearing her cat shoes. Why do so many people want to dress up as cats for Halloween?
Public transit and more public transit.
Arriving at the Ed Mirvish theatre with only 10 minutes to spare and discovering you could eat concession popcorn right in your seats.
Really good seats with plenty of leg room.
Strong female voices – Wicked.
Fantastic dancing costumes, many of them green.
Odd grammar in the service of good humour, Gah.
Every time we see a play, there are puppets. Every single time. Oftentimes, babies. This time, she notes, an emerald one.
Goats. So these are animal lovers, then! The best of surprises.
Hat boxes? It’s been a while!
Thinking the orchestra was not an orchestra, maybe, but a track, until the second act, when she finally got a look at the baton.
Books that make a difference, often opened in attics.
Spells, not gibberish.
Melting and unmelting scenes.
Thank goodness, then, no actual balloons.
That was not me crying during the second half. That was the lady next to me, sniffling. For some reason, Bea didn’t believe me. She had to touch my cheek to make sure.
She also made sure I stood up with her for the curtain call.
Victoria street exit. From crowd to duo in under sixty seconds. City dispersal.
I’m thinking, maybe, The Bachelor and the Bobbysoxer, again, next.
The great Canadian yoga pants disucssion.
No need to sit on the subway, after that.
The boys coming back from the zoo.
Then, an entire evening.
And, also, a Sunday.