I don't agree with flowers. They're too contrived. "Hey, sorry I was a douche bag, but since I went five minutes out of my way to stop by the grocery store and pick up some colourful, soon to be wilted garden decor, all is forgiven?" Anything that flowers could fix doesn't need them, and anything big enough to need them can't be fixed by flowers.
And besides, I want to stay mad. After all, I have a right to be mad, don't I? Who would have thought that something like a little absentmindedness on my part could sour the beginning of what turned out to be such an awesome day? The Upper Kananaskis Lakes area is a beautiful place, especially in the company of friends. An over-indulgent motor home doesn't hurt either. The sheer enormity of the Rocky Mountains dwarfs nearly everything, the least of which is a petty relationship squabble. It would be convenient to stay mad...but, I can't. All I want to do is cook her dinner, say I'm sorry, and share my awesome day with her.

First Day

She says the store's soothing atmosphere is do to the meridian line on which it lies, then she laughs it off awkwardly as a crack appears in her confidence. Maybe my earrings are throwing her off. I don't mind, it feels like home, like something my mother would say. My first day at my new job as shelf monkey starts in an hour, and I'm excited. I like this place. I want things to work out the way they do in sitcoms. I want to fall in love with the store and the people, become comfortable in a second home and have lots of mundane yet charmingly funny experiences for a long time to come. I want my last day at the store to be a day of sadness and nostalgia. First I have to figure out what a stock report is. I think the calming essence of the place is due to the smell of all the books. I've always loved the smell of books. My Godfather's house smelled of books, where I spent many hours eating, laughing and playing games as a child. It was an old school house, it's high ceilings and huge main floor class room, the place that is now a kitchen, dining and living room rolled into one, it's hardwood floors sandblasted smooth by decades of quiet, little feet, had the same peculiar, vaguely musty odor. My Godmother also owned a store, a health food/ ethical clothing/ gift/ all things quirky store, with the same friendly, comforting atmosphere that led customers to linger at the counter, chatting. Forty five minutes, give or take. When I went in for my interview last week, Joy (my new boss) arrived ten minutes late to open up for the day. I immediately felt more at ease. Her soft Norfolk accent contrasts with her energetic personality. She's just like Penny. I feel like I belong here...and besides, I already know where the politics and current events books are kept.

Moving Mountains

The Canmore Folk Festival. A Rockin', Bee-Boppin' good time.

http://picasaweb.google.ca/centurydigitalboy21/MovingMountains#