I do this every time - I get so psyched up to do something and convince myself that I am good enough to do it. I went without the wheelchair, instead relying on Brad's arm to keep me upright. Probably wasn't the best idea, but imagine the throngs of people to battle through with a chair. We would likely have run over a few small children and canines.
We weaved through the crowds, pulling my O2 behind and only jamming it into a few fat toes. Of course I got the usual stares and gapes of wonder. It really is entertaining to walk around with me; come to Toronto and I'll open up your world.
Most can't make out what is attached to my face and the cart behind. (Some think its a ghetto blaster, but those that believe that live in a completely different world than I.) Next, understanding registers on their faces, quickly followed by confusion. The staring persists.
Cause it looks good. Cause it's the newest fad. Cause I'm a walking advertisement for my O2 company and I'm getting paid millions, which is obvious by my Old Navy flip-flops and Dynamite dress.
Eventually I wore down. Each step harder than the last. Simply standing was a chore. No where to sit, but every where to lay down and wait for magic hands to come and lift me back to the condo.
Eventually we made it to the park and I sit and wait, while my knight once again rescues me with the wheelchair, wheeling it out with the G-man perched on board.
Saturday we make the attempt again. Although this time my brain is switched on and my cantankerous body is heaved into the wheelchair. As far as my worries about navigating through the masses, piece of cake...however, I'm not sure Brad would agree.
I really need to take a cue from Pamela and get myself a bullhorn...or flashing lights.
We go to the St. Lawrence Market first. Browse the never ending vendors selling meat (there's a whole lotta sausage), baked goods, fruits & veggies and cheese. We land at a perfect time, as it's later in the day and the sale signs are materializing everywhere. When's the last time you got a loaf of bread for a buck and a quarter??
We partook in some fine dining at the Busker Festival. I decided to try a chicken fajita for the first time ever (ya, I know, sheltered life) and ended up giving the thing to Brad after he finished his own. Sausage for this girl; when the meat meets the street, this girl's happy. While eating we watched a guy eat flames, shoot flames, date flames and do some other things with flames.
So let's not drag out the fact that he's leaving. It'll happen soon enough and I'll be bawling my eyes out, while Heather holds me and soothes my heavy heart with tall hazelnut blondes.
Heather, I'm excited to see you on Friday and show you my life here. I'll introduce you to people who will make a huge impact on your life, sights that will make your jaw drop to the floor and situations that will leave you with a cramped gut from laughing so hard.
This coming week is going to be crazy. So many plans. Must keep busy. Must keep O2 tanks at the ready. Wheelchair in position. Brain operating full force...ya right, like that can happen at this stage of the game.
In other news it's great that I can leave my balcony door open and have the repugnant stench of cigarettes come wafting in. They always find my throat, my lungs; it flows right in and makes a cozy nest in my chest.
Remind me to take my neighbours a bottle of the finest wine.