I'm just about to take my usual hot shower before bed, but I thought I'd take a few minutes to write.

The race on Saturday went really well. There was a contagious energy from the crowd and the runners, which is probably the only reason I made it to the finish line. I was glad to share that with Véro, even though I was left in a cloud of dust halfway through the race - she trains hard, and I don't. So we met up at the end in sweaty tears, and walked home proudly with our running bibs and little medals dangling from our necks. Several people sitting out on patios called out to us to congratulate us for winning the medals and we simply grinned, waved and then secretly giggled - we didn't feel the need to tell them that every runner received a medal for participation.

The sun had come out by the time we returned, and I was delighted to find the gang out on my balcony for an impromptu get-together. All of a sudden plans of a quiet evening turned into a big pasta supper cooked by Manon and Sarah, cheese, and lots of wine. We spent nearly six hours out on the front balcony eating, talking, drinking and laughing, and later in the evening the guitar, tamborine, xylophones and harmonicas came out. Admittedly I sometimes cringe in the face of "folkster/hippie" jamming - it can just seem so impossibly earnest and cheesy - but it actually turned out to be quite funny and, well, fun. We were ten people, just the right amount to create lively conversations without overcrowding or craziness. The evening continues to deepen my sudden love affair with Ottawa, which has me swooning all over again. I even marveled at the surroundings around me as I walked home down Sussex Drive and through the market's ruelles after work today, thinking that it ain't so bad after all.

Alas, the weekend would've been perfect if it hadn't been for the public policy meeting I had on Sunday evening at the Lord Elgin Hotel. What's up with that? While I'm keen on putting a lot of effort into this new job, I can't quite subscribe to the idea that we're all so incredibly important during the week that we MUST schedule a big meeting on the weekend. I just find it tremendously bizarre and absolutely irritating. Ah ah! I know what you're thinking - the complaining about the new job has begun! But come on, how many of you out there were sitting in a conference room on Sunday evening? I was able to concentrate for a good portion of the meeting, but near the end my mind started wandering and I tried to adopt a "of course this is really interesting and of course I'm paying attention look" while allowing my mind to falter and stray from the flip charts and PowerPoint presentations. I found myself thinking the strangest things, like trying to imagine what the people in the meeting looked like as they slept in their comfy pyjamas, far away from the formalities. And then I strayed even further and all of a sudden, I was thinking like a man - yes, I was thinking about sex. Not in such a crude, point-blank way, but just remembering past intimacies I've shared with people. I was left drifting off with pleasant, bittersweet and even restless thoughts. Hmm, maybe not the typical way a man thinks of sex, after all.

I think I found the solution to my same-shoe syndrome. I browsed around stores this evening with Manon and tried on a pair of silver shoes with pink & green trim and kitten heels tonight, and they were fabulous. I didn't buy them, but I suspect that my same-old cycle will soon end...

Mans just came by to give me the details about a possible trip to Toronto this weekend, and for a goodnight hug. That's my cue, I'm off to the shower, some reading and zzz's - just as I hear Manon screech, "hey!" and then "what the fuck?!", then "OUCH!", followed by the sound of a door slamming and a certain orange cat being locked out. Afterwards, little mews of desperation before a closed door, and now a purring little furball on my lap... But wait a sec - hey! WHAT THE FUCK!? OUUUCH!
;jklàdsgsww Nice way to - OUCCCCCH, tteeth are razor sharp! - say goodnight, tabarnac!