<saturday march 15, 2003 - 8:00 p.m.>

Warning: this is long.

Today I took a trip down memory lane, AKA Bank Street.

I set out to buy some new photo paper at Ginn, which is located at Bank and Gladstone in an area of Ottawa known as Centretown. It's not the best part of town. It's kinda seedy, a little run-down, but it is full of interesting characters and sights.

In my student days I used to live in Centretown. For a time on Flora St., and then on McLeod. It is in this area that I parked the car and set out for a bit of a walk in the winter sun.

First destination: to find a cafe latte. With brew in hand I checked out some of the old haunts. I hadn't been in some of these places for years.

I went into Aziz, which is full of incense and other Indian wares. I am debating buying a sari (don't tell Mark) or at least some rich red fabric. To do what with, I don't know.

Next I went to Big Buds. This is an Ottawa institution, at least for starving students and other like folk. It's along the same lines as Honest Eds, a bargain basement that hasn't changed in years. It is hilarious hodge-podge of stuff. I used to shop here for candles and other doodads when I lived in student residence. I have a memory of Big Bud himself standing at the front of the store, barking orders to the staff. Yes, he was big.

Photopaper was bought and paid for at Ginn. The last stop was Loomis Art Store.

This is going to sound insane, but as soon as I walked in there my eyes welled up with tears - the joy - the heady excitement of art supplies. Lots of them. I felt dizzy from it all. (See previous entry about my love affair with pens.)

I meandered through the aisles. I paused near the notebooks (some funky options, but nothing like the leather-bound one with stringy-tie thing I coveted at Chapters the other day) and loitered among the paints. The Fine Paper section was something I was saving for last.

I picked out some card stock for a new project I have in mind (too early to reveal here). And then I managed to flag down a salesperson to help me find a bone folder. For godsake I had to interrupt a conversation about hand lotion. FYI a bone folder is not a torture device. It is a tool to fold paper. Yes, I can fold paper with my hands just fine, this is supposed to make a cleaner fold with thicker paper.

The Fine Paper section blew me away. If there hadn't been three pretentious art students comparing notes in the middle of the display than I would have been able to have a more satisfying browse.

Where do you go?
Oh, I'm at the La Di Da Academy of Fine Arts.
Oh reeeeally? I'm at the ShiShi Academy of the Finest Arts Ever.

There were A-Mazing papers there, wide squares of multicoloured textures, some rough, some smooth, some that looked like my mother's doilies, but all were impressive in one way or another. They were so nice that there were several that I would have bought just to hang on the wall. They were pieces of art in themselves.

I wanted to buy some, but was afraid to look at the price. Besides, what would I do with it?

Sidebar: If, btw, anyone is considering buying me a gift, wrapping it in this kind of paper merits extra points. I'm the kind of person who'll keep the paper. If you want, just skip the gift and give me the paper. Role it up and snap a rubber band around it. No need to wrap it, unless...)

Tonight there was a bit of an argument; Mark V. Emma.

It began at bath-time. We three girls were having a bath together. It was a tight squeeze but managed to fit in there ok. After awhile, I got out, then Sarah got out, and suddenly it appeared as though half the water was gone. Emma demanded more water. Mark asked her to get out of the tub and then the meltdown started.

Emma: NONONONONONONONO! <crying><crying><wailing>

Her yelling resonated in that little bathroom.

I came in to see what was going on. I took Emma on my lap and wrapped her in a towel and rocked her.

"I miss Nana, that's the problem." she sniffed. "Is Nana coming for my birthday?" I assured her she was, and it made her feel a little better.

Emma's birthday isn't until May 15th, but it's the subject of a conversation we have at least once a day. Every day. It usually happens at bedtime.

First she launches into a description of the menu. She counts off on her fingers.

• hummus
• pita
• carrot sticks (I swear this is true)
• chips ("but not the spicy kind")
• pretzels
• gummi worms
• peanut butter sandwiches

I explained that there has to be something else, like hot dogs or pizza, something more filling. She disagrees. Please don't worry, all grown-ups in attendence will be fed.

Then there's the topic of the cake. We've been sworn to secrecy. But let me tell you, it won't be nearly as interesting as her cake last year; the ever famous Penguin Cake. Her request, made specially by Aunt Marina.

p.s. Ah yes, new photos are up in case you bypassed the main page.

andrea.