Best. Weekend. Ever.

|how.odious| Year Two: DAY FIFTY-TWO

2016 December 12 [Monday]

 

Here we are now at the final installment of the Mundane Monday Memoir! I am truly going to practice the writing restraint that these posts are meant to fulfill and stick to the program as I sit at my computer with the movie Wreck It Ralph pumping in the background just like it does every single morning these days. If you’ve seen the movie, perhaps you understand my obsession.

Let’s see … this past week has been quite productive as far as physical exertion is concerned. I managed to workout seven days in a row last week through alternating days of circuits, runs and the yoga [of course, this includes last Sunday, which technically isn’t part of “last week,” but the point is merely that I managed to get my butt off the couch seven days in a row with yesterday being the only day off during the past eight days, etc., it doesn’t matter]. Anyhow, I plan to continue this regimen until I just quit, as usual. I don’t have any physical #goals, per se, regarding my size or abilities, except to feel really great physically. I can do the pull-ups, push-ups, sit-ups, dips, leg-lifts, &c., so it’s more that I just want to be able to keep doing them, ya know? Okay, enough about that.

As far as the non-exercise-related events of last week, there’s not much to tell about what went on during the week. The weekend, nevertheless, is an entirely different story. On Saturday, the lifemate and I pounded out a quick circuit through the early afternoon and then traveled downtown to an area called Anguk to eat a croissant/waffle [a waffle made out of croissant dough] and a burger at our favorite burger joint. The croissant/waffle place was closed, and we’re not sure if it’s closed forever or was just closed for the day. Through grave disappointment, the lifemate impulsively dropped into, luckily for me, a delicious phở place. It was the type of place we’ve been scouring the city for for years … cheap but delicious phở. The phở itself was absolutely no frills, and he also ordered the stir-fried phở, which was absolutely amazing. Both dishes combined cost about 7,000 KRW. Awesome.

Holy ephing ay, I think I’m definitely getting a fucking cold. Dammit!

After the croissant/waffle tragedy and phở excitement, we desired to continue our grazing and headed toward the burger joint. On the way there, I found the cutest boutique ever where I picked up a few new pins [to be pictured at a later date because I’m searching for the perfect new little backpack, and once I find it, I’ll pin the pins to it and post a pic then] and picked out a notebook that the lifemate bought me for my imminent birthday. Then we continued on toward burgers. To our dismay, the burger joint was closed … the forever kind. There was already another restaurant up and running in its place. Boo! Thus, we marched on toward Insadong where we thoroughly enjoy a beverage stall that sells liquor pouches. No liquor pouches. We were 0-3 at this point but were still having a great night. With one last thing on our to-do list for this area of town we hoped with all our might that the lady from whom we buy our incense cones and sticks was still open. She was. So then, we trekked on over to 광장시장 [Gwangjang Market] and grabbed our favorite little snack, 빈대떡 [mung bean pancake].

I wanted the good times to keep on rolling, so we walked toward Dongdaemun. Then, I still wanted the good times to roll so we walked onward toward Hyehwa, and it was totally worth it. There, we found a different liquor pouch man! How fortuitous! We each got one, walked a few Christmasy streets and then finally hopped on the oh-so-crowded subway back home. Phew. Twas a long, cold, oddly satisfying Saturday night.

Sunday was equally satisfying as I had my English student, SJ, over for a day of funtivities. Her parents dropped her off here at our [my and my lifemate’s] apartment at exactly noon. We played cards, Rummikub, and a plethora of video games. SJ and the lifemate took turns playing piano while I cooked poached eggs and hollandaise. SJ also ate her first avocado ever [she sort of liked it but was surprised when it wasn’t sweet … haha]. Later, I taught her how to make an apple pie for her dad [I made her family a few apple pies last year after SJ’s mom gifted me a huge bag of apples from SJ’s mom’s mother’s apple trees, and apparently, SJ’s father loved the pies so much he talked about it all the time, so I thought it would be fun to teach SJ so that she could make them anytime for her dad].

*caption below

Around 1800 we all caught the bus together toward SJ’s house where we met up with the rest of her family [dad, mom and grandma] so that we could all go to dinner together. SJ’s dad picked an incredible duck restaurant that basically blew my mind. After dinner, SJ’s father drove us all the way back home, which was so fortunate because both the lifemate and I were so full we weren’t sure how a bus ride would go. We were home around 2200, and I passed out around 0130. What a weekend.

Now that it’s Monday again, it’s back to the daily grind of workouts, writing, and wonderments. No-Writing November comes to an end tomorrow, which means I’m back in writing mode starting on Wednesday. The lifemate bought me a new congrats-for-completing-my-first-book-but-now-it’s-time-to-get-your-ass-back-to-work-and-finish-book-two computer, which ought to arrive on or before Wednesday, so there’s that, at least, to look forward to. I will also be officially back to my M/F blog posting routine as well. Thus, you will hear from me again here on Friday! Until then …

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*photo by: 정소정의 엄마

Treasure Troll

|how.odious| Year Two: Day 024

2016 November 13 [Monday]

Welcome to the second entry of the six-part Mundane Monday Memoir. Oh boy, do I have a lot to say! Unfortunately, I am not allowed to write about any of the things I’d like to write about here, today, on my computer. Thus, I shall keep it mundane, as it were, and merely write about the fucking day-to-day of the past week. Disregarding the whole Election-Day outcome in the United States of America, I basically spent the entirety of last week arguing with various members of my family. One member said something like this, “I won’t be bullied by ‘open-mindedness’.” Another member consistently took the stance that I’m a real-life troll all while constantly considering his passive-aggressive nit-picking, substance-less aggression as, “Look. I’m just trying to have a conversation.” The latter is something about which I will write in further depth, but alas, I am not currently allowed to really share these sorts of meaningful insights at this time. Ugh.

Needless to say, although I am going to say it now, it’s been a tough, emotional week trying to “deal with” these particular people in my life. And then this thought sort of hit me when I pondered why these interactions are so difficult right now. Have you ever read the book Spark by John J. Ratey, M.D.? Well, in that book, the author’s general theory is that exercise and physical movement is what stimulates the brain into essentially being “smarter.” Of course, I’m giving a very generalized overview of the general impression I gained from the book as a mere reader of it. Anyway, shit. Okay, fuck it. I’m going to continue despite repeatedly breaking my rule(s). Okay, so anyway, what I took away from that book is a sort of less-physical idea of movement. If you’re not growing, per se, interpersonally, mentally, emotionally, &c., then you’re sort of also not stimulating brain growth. I sort of see Ratey’s idea of “movement” as change and growth, not necessarily in a physical sense. Thus, when I look at the two people with whom I have had recent conflict, I’m not really surprised that we would butt heads so ferociously. The gap between where their heads are at and where my head is at grows exponentially, especially when considering that we don’t even get to see each other that often.

As I change, my family is not seeing this change in real time or even at consistent intervals. As I expect that my family will change and be different people every time I see them, I am shocked by the lack of change. Sure, I see how ridiculously conceited and egotistical this all sounds, cause I’m basically stating that I think I’m growing and getting smarter while revealing that I think that some people in my life are not only dumb but also, getting dumber. But yea, that is what I’m saying. Even though I feel this way, it doesn’t mean I act this way. I’m sure the two with whom the conflicts arose think that I’m a fucking bitch, and they wouldn’t be wrong. Sure, I could be “nicer,” but where does nice get you? Ha! Nowhere, that’s where. Being smart also rarely gets you anywhere. My point is simply that when dealing with family, love is obviously off the table. Obviously I will continue to love you no matter what. What remains then are two options. Your options become enabling through lies or telling the truth.

With the first conflict, I opted for telling the truth, and with the second, I became a “Yes Man.” Thinking back on it now, I probably should have reversed my approach because the person to whom I lied is dealing with a much larger truth. Ugh. I say it all the time, and it’s relevance definitely stings, but you can’t know anything until you know it.

Back to the mundanity, the rest of the week was spent with a family member who came to visit. I did my damnedest to put on a good time, but this person spent 80% of our time together either on his phone or thinking about what he should do with his phone. So, the apathy was palpable. On Saturday, I threw a party to prove to this person that I’m not some anti-social hipster who thinks she’s better off with no friends, and my guest seemed put out, hardly participated, and seemed as though he’d rather be off in some dark corner on his phone rather than having to be so present amongst people who like me. Sunday my guest departed back to his current place of temporary residence. The rest of Sunday was spent recovering from the emotional strain and the physical discomfort of hosting a guest and hosting a long party full of libations and socializing. *sigh. For the record, I had a great time at my party. It was supposed to go from around 1800 to 2400, but no one even started leaving until 0130, and I wasn’t in bed until about 0330. Our [the lifemate and my] apartment was a huge fucking mess, but the lifemate assured me that that’s how he knows everyone had a great time. I hope everyone had a great time!

As a final word, I’ll say, yes some people are really predictable, but when someone surprises you for the better, make that person your friend.  

Not Back . . . but Maybe

DAY TWO HUNDRED FORTY-THREE

2016 June 20 [Monday]

 

Holy eph…I’ve returned! After what?, almost a month?, but I must admit that I know that I’m not back, which also, as I look at the looming Day 243 at the top of the page, further instills the ultimate failure that was this idea … to write five hundred words a day, six days per week. Nevertheless, I sit and write, right now, in a lame attempt to document the past few weeks, merely for posterity at this point.

I was crudely awoken by my lifemate’s sweaty armpit this morning, and that was not awesome. I’m not entirely sure why he was so sweaty, but it probably had something to do with us drinking hard liquor again this past weekend for the first time in months … and months … and months. No matter, I was sleeping [passed out] soundly, when all of the sudden, I was slapped in the face by his arm, which in and of itself is bad enough, but it was also dripping with sweat. I woke up and had to wipe my face down … ugh. I woke him up and shared my disgust with him for good measure.

It’s Father’s Day in America, but here, it is just another Monday. I spoke to my father this morning, and I sent him a letter about two weeks ago with great hopes that he’d receive the letter in time for the holiday. But then, the worst happened. My uncle, Michael, my mother’s sister’s husband, passed away last week. He’d been ill off and on for years, but this was fast. Thus, my mother first traveled to support her sister about two weeks ago, and then after my uncle passed, my mother flew back home to rest for a few days, gather my father, and then they both set off back to Texas for the memorial that was held last Saturday.

My Uncle Michael was a man with the most beautiful and tender spirit. Even though, I am not really mourning the loss of my uncle, since I knew him well but was not close to him, I feel a deep sadness for my aunt. Of all the couples in the world, I could always see and knew that they were so much in love. They were each other’s best friends; they spent every waking moment together. You could see how much my aunt just wanted to get back to my uncle whenever they were apart … no matter what. They lived together and traveled the entire US in an RV for more than a decade. They were, quite literally, more than happy to live together in one tiny room for many many years. They were so in love. So when I think of the loss of my uncle, I am deeply saddened for my aunt’s loss. She is an amazing woman, whom I know will continue to live on and make a happy life for herself, but now that I have and love someone as much as I feel like they loved each other, and we haven’t even been together for ten years yet!, I can’t even imagine how extraordinarily sad she must feel after spending decades with the love of her life and that is what makes me feel sad.

Life goes on, and sadly, it goes on without you. It does because it must, and when someone in your life passes away, perhaps that’s the hardest part about it … you witness that life continues on, even as those you love die. But maybe there’s also a small lesson in that … a small lesson about how I must continue to remind myself that my life alone really doesn’t matter all that much. That no single individual will make the world end, will make life come to a complete stop, and that’s a good thing. Of course, for my aunt, life has come to a screeching horrific stop. So perhaps the only words of comfort are still the same … Life goes on … it will continue to move on without you, so take your time and join back in whenever you feel like it … Life will be there for you when you’re ready.

The letter I wrote to my father was of the sort that enabled me to say all of those things that people only seem to say about a person at that person’s own funeral, which I think is so depressing. I wonder if the world would be a slightly better place if people, on a yearly basis, told all of the people in their lives what and how they really thought about each of them? Anyway, I wrote this long letter in an interview style as if I were a famous writer who had finally “made it,” who was now being interviewed. I thought it would be flattering for my dad to hear all of the things that I would say about him to other people because, let’s face it, my “making it” might not ever happen, or if it does, he too might already be gone and may not witness my success himself. Obviously, I will not share the letter here, since I think that would sort of detract from the special-ness of it all now, but someday, hopefully in the near future, I will have the opportunity to share all of the wonderful things about my father that I felt compelled to let him know I know.

My lifemate and I celebrated his birthday during all of last week. We probably celebrated a little too heartily all while not quite celebrating enough, I think. He’s a tricky fella who never asks for anything and has a great attitude about everything [what a bore!], so the only thing left for me to do is hope that I’ve truly made him happy. Ugh. Yes, you’re reading into that correctly. I’m complaining about how the person with whom I’ve chosen to spend my life is too kind and too unselfish that I can never truly know if he is truly satisfied and happy with the decisions that I make regarding trying to satisfy him in order to make him feel happy. It’s all about me!!! Ugh!

We’ve also been socializing more through the attendance, together, of one of his co-worker’s farewell dinner parties and a coffee date, I alone, with one of my friends. The other thing we’ve consciously started  doing was to travel to different parts of Seoul that we haven’t seen or spent much time in, which oddly enough, hasn’t been all that eye-opening. No matter, a few weekends ago we discovered the Wangsimni area of Seoul because there, we found one of the only other north-of-the-Han IMAX theaters, and it’s much closer to our apartment than the other theater we used to travel to in Yongsan. That was a fun day filled with the new X-Men movie in IMAX 3D, walking the much more condensed downtown area, getting lost while trying to find the Seoul Flea Market, eventually giving up on finding the Flea Market, only to find ourselves, inadvertently at the Flea Market.

Another weekend we traveled just one more subway stop from our usual stop near Insadong to find the super-sized Kyobo Bookstore and my favorite stationery supplies store, Hottracks. We also inadvertently found the Seoul National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art. Honestly, I don’t even like contemporary art, but I do like art, in general, so when we found out that the museum is free from 1800-2100 every Saturday and found ourselves finding the museum at about 1815 on a Saturday, we went in. There was really only one piece I enjoyed because really, I can really only appreciate installations anymore. It was called The Paranoid Zone and required us, the viewers, to travel through four different spaces on two different floors in order to experience the entire piece, which was cool, but also not as epic as it might seem. I’m sure there’s something to be said about the piece, and like all art, the artists had much to say about the piece, which is odd because really, a good piece shouldn’t require an explanation, but no matter, I would say something about it except that the whole idea felt so contrived there’s really no point.

I suppose that’s it; our life over the past three weeks or so in a nutshell. Other revelations and future prospects have come up, but that’s not really something I want to talk about here … on this space … at least not now. So, for the time being … it’s back to editing the book at Starbucks [boo!, I know, but I really have no other options] until it’s finished, the yoga MWF, the running TR and one weekend day, piano M-F, and the commencement of our new food regimen … again a topic better suited for another time … after we figure out whether or not it’ll even work or is even possible.

Until next time … whenever that time may be … hopefully sooner rather than never.

A Separation

[Retroactive] TRAVEL LOG:

Vancouver Edition Day 6

DAY TWO HUNDRED TWELVE

2016 May 20 [Friday]

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[Day 202: 2016 May 10 (Tuesday)]

Today is the last day that we [the lifemate and I] see our families on this trip. The lifemate’s parents head off to the airport around 1200 and almost miss their flight. Ahj [the lifemate’s little brother] does not fly out until 1800, hangs out with us at our rental for a few hours until he soon realizes, after checking his flight for the first time around 1245, that his flight leaves at 1340. Of course, he misses his flight and stays the night with us so that he can catch the 0700 out on Wednesday. My parents fly out on Thursday afternoon, but they want to travel to the mountains, and we want some time alone. Thus this day is half full of sadness yet half full of excitement for the days ahead wherein the lifemate and I can now live at our own pace, do what we want and eat what we want.

Around 0845 I swing through Breka, the greatest bakery/deli/coffee shop in the entire world, pick up three panini-pressed sandwiches [one turkey club, one Mediterranean chicken, one goat cheese and salami], three beveys [two Limonatas, one apple juice] and walk to my parents’ VRBO. I arrive at 0915. A typical not-morning person, my dad stands outside the building, dressed, looking chipper and excited, ready to head off together.

I drop off the Med Chicken and a Limonata with Mom while Dad and I head to the beach to have our alone time together. My dad is the greatest dad of all dads. He looks unapologetically excited to be hanging out with me. I love it. We chat on a bench overlooking False Creek on the far West End and stare out at the water. What we talk about is much.

At 1100 we head back to the VRBO to help Mom finish up cleaning and load up the car for their 1130 check-out. A dramatic moment later [Mom locks the keys in the apartment, like instructed, but once we reach the car, she realizes that she needs the keys to open the parking garage gate. She now remembers how the owner explained how you must exit the garage in your car, park it in the street, then go back into the building to lock the keys in the apartment], we are all locked in the basement parking garage with no way back into the building and no way to get the keys that are locked in the apartment. I exit the parking garage through a [very luckily since it’s usually locked] door in the gate. Another moment later I’m yelling up at two gentlemen sitting on their patio. They let me in the building but fail to grasp that we need to borrow their main-doors key card. Another moment later, as I run back toward the back of the building where the parking garage entrance/exit is, Mom sits in the car outside of the garage. Dad walks toward me. Apparently, a nice lady who was taking out her trash let them out. It is now 1140.

By 1145 I’m back at our [the lifemate and my] rental, waiting for the lifemate’s parents to stop by on their way to the airport. My parents continue on to their hotel for their last two nights.

1200: [Kakao Message] “We’re leaving the restaurant now. Should be there in five.”

I head outside and wait for the lifemate and his family. Not until 1230 do they pull up in front of our building, get out, participate in a round of hugs, and head off for the airport to catch a 1400 flight. They barely make it.

The drama of Ahj’s own flight unfolds over the next few hours as we escort him to the SkyTrain to the airport, hang out on our own, finally!, and then ultimately wait for Ahj’s return. We take our time perusing the city and the lifemate lets me pick out a few stems to make a bouquet of flowers [a thing I would never otherwise do when considering my general disdain for buying beautiful plants just to watch them die, but it is something I do, on rare occasions for other people], since I begin to feel quite sad about my parents’ coming farewell and imminent departure. We eat yet another [the lifemate’s first] Breka sammy together, smoked corned beef this time.

Ahj joins us back at the rental around 1500 and is on his own for the evening. He doesn’t mind. He’s resourceful. Out of cash, however, we empty our change on him for coffee and a snack. He eats leftovers for dinner.

We plan to meet my parents at 1930 at the Aquatic Center to catch the False Creek water taxi to Granville Island for our last dinner. Not until 2000 do we finally meet. We cross the water and walk Granville Island, which we soon found out shuts down pretty early. With really only one restaurant option, we eat at Bridges Bistro, and we all order some sort of Sockeye Salmon dish. After a tip from our server that the same gelato on the dessert menu is significantly cheaper at the gelato case, we opt out of ordering dessert and hit the gelato bar on our way out. At 2220 we head back to the water taxi dock to catch the last ferry back to Vancouver’s downtown “mainland.”

The four of us take a nice slow walk along the water back to my parents’ car. I try not to cry. They give us a ride back to our rental since it’s easier for them to find their way back over to Richmond from our place. We say our goodbyes as I continue to try not to cry. I know the lifemate and I will have an excellent time, and I’m thoroughly excited to get a few days of alone time together, but I love my parents and will miss them greatly, as always. We hug. Mom tries her damnedest not to cry also. We part ways, and this is the last time I see my parents on this trip.

.FalseCreekTaxi. [to last family dinner] |2016.05.10|

A post from the photo journal accompaniment to the [Retroactive] TRAVEL LOG: Vancouver Edition Day 6

Entries: in real time

“Freedom” [quote and photo by TKsCM for HowOdious]

Journal entry that accompanies the [Retroactive] TRAVEL LOG: Vancouver Edition Day 6

A Day for Mom

[Retroactive] TRAVEL LOG: Vancouver Edition Day 4

DAY TWO HUNDRED TEN

2016 May 18 [Wednesday]

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[Day 200: 2016 May 08 (Sunday)]

In order to celebrate a day all about Moms, the best thing to do is to let Mom do whatever it is that she wants to do, unless of course, she’s the type of Mom who feels loved by the planning and surprise created by others … obviously. As the child of a mother who wants both of these things, Mother’s Day can be a challenge, except that I don’t live anywhere near my mother, so every Mother’s Day I haven’t spent with her since I left home, twelve years ago, has probably been a serious disappointment. Thus, this year, with the lucky happenstance that the Vancouver trip, planned six months in advance, included Mother’s Day weekend, I felt a lot of pressure to make sure Mom had a great day. So, what did we do? Well, we started off with something that she [and the lifemate’s mom, luckily enough] wanted to do, and we went to church. As a recovering Christian, that is all I’m going to say about that. I did it for Mom.

Then, the day fell into my hands. Luckily, again as the theme of this trip, remember that side excursion over Burrard Bridge that I mentioned would actually end up coming in handy? Well, what I failed to mention earlier was that I spotted a tiny little cafe in the Kitsilano neighborhood we ended up driving through after discovering that taking a U-turn was impossible. With the deepest of hopes, that’s where I took Mom for brunch. I wasn’t even sure if they served brunch, so I ran in while my parents sat in the car so as to avoid paying metered parking just to find out the place only served coffee and pastries. To my absolute luck, the place was a full-on nook of a breakfast/brunch/lunch spot, AND there was no wait. It was a beautifully quaint corner lot that was decorated on the inside to look and feel as though you were actually eating inside of Juliet’s [the cafe’s name] home. Mom loved it.

Mom ate the TIffany [my name btw] Omelette and almost cried when she saw it on the menu. She saw it as the perfect sign, and I gotta admit, I sort of did too. Ha. Dad ate the classic Eggs Florentine. I ate the salmon variation on Eggs Benny … obvi.

After breakfast, I was up again. I knew Mom wanted to see North Vancouver. With a paper, car-rental map in hand, I guided [I couldn’t drive since I was not the insured driver, which sucked cause Mom ended up having to drive herself around on Mother’s Day, but she likes to drive as long as it’s not in a city, so once we left the city, she seemed quite content to drive] her across yet another bridge to North Vancouver. Again, with some serious luck, there was a little spot marked on the map called “Lonsdale Quay Market.” If I know anything, something called “Lonsdale Quay Market” sounds like a beacon for all things local, crafted with love, etc., etc., and anything with that sort of vibe is somewhere Mom would love. Indeed the Market was excellent, and even before we got to the Market, we found this “barn” that was more like an event center and the event going on that day was a huge locally crafted fair of all sorts of handmade goods from artisans all around Vancouver. Heaven.

We perused the Fair and the Market for most of the afternoon and then drove along the coast of the North Vancouver shore, found another beach and dipped our toes in the water. Then with another stroke of luck, we easily found the Lion’s Gate Bridge and entered downtown Vancouver via a whole different entrance/exit point than before.

By the time we got back to our [my lifemate’s and my] apartment downtown, Mom was pretty pooped, and so was Dad. So, after a fun-filled day, Mom decided that she was in the mood for a big salad. After a quick Maps [Google, obviously] search, I found a nearby Whole Foods, and we grabbed salad bar salads that we then ate back at the apartment. We chatted and hugged some more and around 2000 or so, both Mom and Dad were quite sleepy and went back to their VRBO in the West End. All-in-all I hope I made her happy and that she enjoyed the day. She said she did, but of course, like all moms, she is fully unaware of how much goodness and gratitude she truly deserves, so anything is great to her. No matter, I think she did really enjoy the day. I know I did. I just love hanging out with my mom, and I miss her every day. This is what I work for, though. To have a life so comfortable I can take care of my parents. *sigh. The struggle is real. The struggle is evident. The struggle is gratefulness returned.

Entries: in real time

When asked what the eldest brother’s girlfriend is like…

I don’t really know; every time I see her, she’s totally fucked up. She goes hard all the time. – Ahj [the youngest brother]

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“Justine” [quote by Ahj photo by TKsCM for HowOdious]

Read the entire TRAVEL LOG as it’s posted.

.StanleyPark. Vancouver, BC |2016.05.07|

View the entire Photo Journal of our recent trip to Vancouver, BC.

This Photo Journal accompanies the written

[Retroactive] TRAVEL LOG: Vancouver Edition Day 3

 

It was mostly like this…

[Retroactive] TRAVEL LOG: Vancouver Edition Day 3

DAY TWO HUNDRED NINE

2016 May 17 [Tuesday]

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[Day 199: 2016 May 07 (Saturday)]

0830 – Mom picked me up for an early-morning coffee sesh

0930 – Woke and picked up Dad from their VRBO

1000 – Ate [eggs Benny with country potatoes and an extra side of bacon] breakfast at Denny’s. Yea, you read that correctly, I flew five thousand miles and ate at Denny’s because I wanted to.

1105 – Drove to the bike rental shop to meet up with the lifemate’s family … failed to merge off the road that forces traffic over a bridge, went over the Burrard Bridge [turned out to be an awesome stroke of luck that would come up in the very near future]

1115 – A shit storm of anger [my own white-hot-fucking anger] when we had a hard time connecting with the lifemate’s family [aka just the lifemate, in general] at the bike rental shop.

1120 – Decided to spend the day apart. Mom agreed to meet back up with the lifemate at 1600. I knew that I would make sure that we would not make it by 1600.

1200 – Parked and ready to explore/walk Stanley Park

1330 – Got in the car and drove around the rest of Stanley Park

1400 – Found a beach

1430 – Ate [the first of many Cesar salad’s to come along with a seafood chowder] at a seafood restaurant where Dad ordered a seafood pasta, didn’t like the undercooked pasta, ate about half of it anyway. Mom complained for Dad, and the manager took care of Dad’s pasta. Dad took the pasta to go. “He’s going to try to heat it up in the microwave to cook the pasta all the way through.”

1530 – Walked the aforementioned beach

1630 – Rested at the rents’ rental

1700 – Angry texted with the lifemate about the events earlier in the day. He wasn’t mad that I blew him off. Really, of course, he didn’t really do anything wrong, but my feelings were hurt. I felt left out and like my parents were being left out. Obviously, there was no need to get so angry, but I did.

1730 – Back at our temporary home hashing it out

1930 – My parents picked us up so we could all have drinks at the lifemate’s parents’ rental.

2000 – “There’s a piano in here?!”

2005 – Played “Clair de lune” for Mom, the piece that I learned and practiced for my mom for six months.

2100 – Went to some “youngster-type” restaurant in Yaletown for dinner [split the top sirloin and mussels with Dad] with the whole gang

2345 – Everyone went “home”

0030 – The lifemate’s younger brother came over to smeez the beez and slept over

0200ish – Passed out