Purple Lips & A Bottle of Red Wine
I woke up this morning with a ring of purple on my lips. At first I thought I had somehow gnawed my lips in my sleep but it then dawned on me that in fact, it was not blood, but the remnants of the almost full bottle of red wine that Sara and I digested last night as we perused the internet. We went out to dinner at Il Mercado's - yummy. We chatted and laughed and as we sat and sipped on wine and devoured some very scrumptious food. Shrimp is certainly once of God's best creations if I don't say so myself. It dawned on me about half way through the meal that in all of our 16 years of friendship we had never ever gone to dinner at a nice restaurant, just the two of us. I believe a new tradition was started. It was wonderful.
As of today, I am tangling with the postal service who lost the priority mail that I sent to my new employer in the US. This was my first step in actually getting into the US. Is this a sign? Is someone trying to tell me something?
I've been having dreams about my travels and my new life to come. Sometimes I have nightmares and other times they are wonderful "I don't ever want to wake up from this dream", dreams. I have had dreams for years involving elevators, and they seem to re-surface every time there is a major change in my life. I've been riding elevators almost every night for the last few weeks.
I've been anxiously re-playing the moment in my head when I will have to face the customs officer in Toronto who will have my fate in his or her hands. I imagine my self approaching, so polite and so determined... "hello officer, how are you? Oh, I'm fine thank you. Yes, I have a job. Where am I going you ask? To the US of course.. To do what, you ask?...To do the job I've been dreaming of for years, to direct a camp...What do you mean officer?...What do you mean 'I don't qualify'...But officer, I've been hired for a month now. The organization is expecting me...What do you mean I'm not allowed to work in the US?...It's my dream job you just have to let me in...please...pretty please? (Note: At this point I'm down on both knees)....You piece of shit...Come on....this isn't funny anymore..(Note: At this point I'm in his face)....Listen asshole..." (Note: At this point I'm getting arrested by airport security) The scenario ends with me rolling around the airport floor crying, pleading, begging, and then getting thrown back on a plane to good old east coast of Canada, band from the US forever. I think I'm ready for a na
As of today, I am tangling with the postal service who lost the priority mail that I sent to my new employer in the US. This was my first step in actually getting into the US. Is this a sign? Is someone trying to tell me something?
I've been having dreams about my travels and my new life to come. Sometimes I have nightmares and other times they are wonderful "I don't ever want to wake up from this dream", dreams. I have had dreams for years involving elevators, and they seem to re-surface every time there is a major change in my life. I've been riding elevators almost every night for the last few weeks.
I've been anxiously re-playing the moment in my head when I will have to face the customs officer in Toronto who will have my fate in his or her hands. I imagine my self approaching, so polite and so determined... "hello officer, how are you? Oh, I'm fine thank you. Yes, I have a job. Where am I going you ask? To the US of course.. To do what, you ask?...To do the job I've been dreaming of for years, to direct a camp...What do you mean officer?...What do you mean 'I don't qualify'...But officer, I've been hired for a month now. The organization is expecting me...What do you mean I'm not allowed to work in the US?...It's my dream job you just have to let me in...please...pretty please? (Note: At this point I'm down on both knees)....You piece of shit...Come on....this isn't funny anymore..(Note: At this point I'm in his face)....Listen asshole..." (Note: At this point I'm getting arrested by airport security) The scenario ends with me rolling around the airport floor crying, pleading, begging, and then getting thrown back on a plane to good old east coast of Canada, band from the US forever. I think I'm ready for a na