Lady Martini

Another mediocre martini. I had to make a double because how do you get half an egg white into a martini shaker? Bloop, there it goes. So at the end of it all I added a second measure and a half of gin, a second half measure of apple brandy, a second squeeze of lemon, and a second dash of almond syrup. Yes, I am now the proud owner of a bottle of almond syrup, only three dollars at Maltese, Thunder Bay's Italian grocery store.

We had a great couple of days in Thunder Bay. It finally occurred to me to use Trip Advisor to find some new restaurants to try. It has never failed me before, and did not fail me this time, either. We ate Japanese-style, cushions on the floor, at Wasabi. I got a little bit tipsy on plum wine. We had good pasta and salad and calamari at Armando's the next night, but had the odd experience of being NOT ALLOWED to order a bottle of wine, there being only two of us adults and at a glass and a half each in a half-liter, two hours to dine, we'd be just under the legal limit... so a half-liter was what we got. The table beside us topped up their half-liter with cognac and coffee but we had to rush off to the movie: "Alice in Wonderland" in 3D. Jule bounced about on the seat beside me, thrilled with the cat and the queen and the giant chess battle. I was comfortable and - oh - excited because in the afternoon I found a dress and two shirts and a pair of cargo shorts and matching jacket for 70% off at a beautiful store downtown, and it was warm out, and I walked with my crisp brown bag up Red River Road to the Magnus Theatre to meet the kids. Then we drove to Mount MacKay, which was pretty and Patrick was happy and no one fell over the cliff.

This morning Caleb and Jule performed their play: "Alice in Wonderland and Aliens". Caleb came up with the part about the aliens, inspired unconsciously, I think, by "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies". We ate lunch at Madhouse Tavern and Grill, which actually felt like a British pub, casual and cool. The burgers were bland but the coconut shrimp was pretty good, and Jule loved his french fries. "I wish everyone in the world could eat these fries, they're just so good," he said.

I listened to a lot of Radiohead.

I thought about history, how I did not create my history; rather, it created me. About Gatsby, who said something like, "Of course you can change the past!" Did he mean that it's possible to invent a past, a lie, then act consistently with that, and so make one's new acquaintances believe it? Or was he referring to creating oneself in the now so that when the now becomes past, it will be different? I don't want a different past, though; I don't want a different history. I am who I am, it is what it is. What do I have to feel guilty about?

My children are begging me to go to bed.

When I was a teenager I pictured my adult self as single, childless, moving from love to love, or maybe married, then not, then married again, taking the subway, a paper and a coffee and a chocolate croissant in my hand. Or perhaps a cheese danish. Something like that. Lonely and defiant, cerebral, not overly concerned. I would frequent art shows. I would conduct a career. I would meet my nieces and nephews in Mexico for the holidays. I would walk across England with my mother, travel to Asia with a friend. I would donate to charity. I would come and go, eat and sleep when I cared to.

I would own a cat. One cat, mind you, not two, not twenty. I would be eccentric, but not crazy. I would shop for antiques. I would write ridiculous novels.