I feel like an absentee parent.
Except that I’m very much not a parent. I also do not plan on being a parent anytime soon. That’s what little M’s are for.
It’s just the guilt, the abandonment.
I’m an absentee blogger.
There I said it. No amount of counselling could counteract the anguish and regret that I feel for having to leave you for such long periods at a time.
If you ever forgive me, you are a bigger man than I.
I have to say, I should have warned you. I’m a bit of a take-so-much-on-that-you-hardly-have-time-to-brush-your-teeth-and-definitely-don’t-have-time-to-fold-your-laundry-er. The summers are the worst. I become a selfish recluse during the school year, but during the summers I’m really a do-er.
What are the things that this do-er done does?
Carpet Pulling, Running, Cooking, Eating, Bonding with small brother, Searching for the perfect wood floor, Trying to give her friends who are far too kind to her the attention they deserve, trying to give the boys who decide they like her for some reason the attention they deserve, taking an hour out of her week to watch True Blood with her mother, eating corn, shrimp, and potatoes with her hands off of a picnic table, getting sunburns on her giant calves, writing detailed essays about sustainability in the North and totally nerding out, being a financial analyst in the daylight hours, searching for cheap flights within europe from the Charles De Gaulle airport dreamily between financial analysty activities, attempting to keep her well earned guitar callouses, attempting to grasp the packing of her wordly belongings, Running more, Racing, Racing at track meets in the Okanagan, dying from heat and dehydration while racing at track meets in the okanagan, staring at horrific close-ups of her face during aforementioned dehydration death and cringing at her miraculous lack of chin and/or open eyes, Shoving her face full of clean green healthy food at her favourite Kelowna restaurant to ease the pain.
Yes, sometimes busy girls need a little comfort.
The restaurant that I went to, however, raised my spirits so successfully, that I HAD to share my experience with my blog readers.
First of all, please go to Kelowna. It’s hot. There’s a gigantic lake. There’s also an abundance of fresh local produce at every corner. Don’t make me continue..
I was there a couple weekends ago for the Jack Brow Memorial track meet and I won TWO gold medals. The fact that I could count the women in my age category with one finger does not detract from that.
I know, now you’re thinking, “I hope to god she only entered two races, or I’m vacariously embarrassed.”
YES, I only ran two races. One sucked some vicious bum, the other was delightful.
My buddy Rodney here also won a medal. Let’s not talk about the fact that you could count the number of men in his category on 2 fingers.
My accomplishments were clearly the most important part of the trip.. not the food.. which is why I’m writing the post about…. the… food. About the food, guys. The food was my raison d’etre.
Because I was technically the female “chaperone” for our team’s race.. I had some sway for mealtime choices. I’d been to the Greenroom before and knew it couldn’t disappoint.
What I did NOT previously know, was that goat cheese could taste like world peace, eternal salvation, and the forbidden fruit glommed into a plate of creamy confection.
It’s going to get recreated.
(I can tell my coach would appreciate it)
So is this hummus and awesomeness dipping plate. But only when I am far far away from nice boys. :). far. garlic.
Some genius put quinoa, salmon, and the most flavourful asparagus ever on the menu.
Moral: Go to Kelowna, and go to the Greenroom. The waitresses will sing to you, and you will think that there was an awesome live band inside, until you see her holding a microphone beside the plate with your salmon. No word of a lie. GO.
Also this boy is just weird.
So is this boy.
And this boy is sunburnt.
I’m totally fine eating garlic around them.