I Love The Smell Of Bagels In The Morning

One of those bagels and that coffee

The phone rang at six-thirty this morning, the first of the Labour Day long weekend.

Six. Thirty.

Dearest Wife answered it, but it was for me. A colleague in Ontario, some three hours ahead, who needed something urgently and was taking me up on my kind offer, made yesterday in a fit of sympathy, to help her out should she need it, seeing as she was working on a Saturday.

So I hauled my arse out of bed, showered, and drove to the office, all a-grumble.

But you know what, Dearest Friends? It all turned out good. In fact, MUCH better than good.

It was a sunny morning.

I had a pleasant natter with the security guard at the office, who told me a thrilling story about the time he escaped just before his truck was flattened by the payload of a Martin Mars water bomber.

It took me an easy fifteen minutes to sort out my colleague.

On the spur of the moment, I decided to swing by Granville Island, pick up a bag of fresh, hot bagels, and score a delish JJ Bean latte for myself and Dearest Wife.

The barista complemented me on my cool t-shirt.

And on the way home, I slipped some crucial dub sounds into the CD playah and had a rare connect-the-dots moment somewhere around Dunbar and 21st when it all came together, it all made sense, and was all crystal-clear, despite (because of?) the windscreen vibrating from all that bass.

It's going to be a fantastic day.

Max Romeo & The Upsetters - One Step Forward (buy here)

Epilogue:

Dearest Friends, it was a fantastic day. Little Man, Dearest Father-in-Law, and I first headed to Gastown to see a classic car concours d'elegance. My dream car is probably now a 1937 Packard sedan, though I'd have to retrofit it with a hybrid engine and airbags.

While ogling autos, we stopped at a Starbucks for refreshments. As we sipped, Billy Bragg and Wilco came on the stere-ere-ereo singing California Stars. And dammit if I didn't have another one of those moments of clarity. Two in one day, eh? I must be using up my quota.

We drove to Granville Island via East Hastings which, Dearest Friends, thronged as usual with the damaged, the afflicted, the addicted, and the destitute. But as we stopped and started past boarded up shops and abandoned buildings, I could clearly see (more clarity!!) the ragged outlines of community. People chatting. People laughing. People helping each other. And my sorrow/shame was tinged with hope.

At Granville Island, a lovely lunch, though admittedly one tinged with thoughts of East Hastings. Next, a whip round to assemble the ingredients for a belated anniversary dinner: fresh spinach, purple potatoes, and fresh Haida Gwaii halibut.

And now home.

Billy Bragg & Wilco - California Stars (buy here)