A pleasant goosing

I awoke rather early to the sound of honking the other morning. Strange, I thought, there's rarely traffic on my street at this hour.

Then it dawned on me - Canada Geese were gliding through the darkness above, returning from their winter sojourn.

I glanced over at the clock: 4:56 a.m. But I didn't mind.

I drifted back to sleep knowing that in a world of constant change I could count on at least one tradition to remain comfortingly the same.

Audrey's Weekend in Rehab Update

Here's a progress report from Audrey:

Just before I fell asleep on Sunday night, I figured out what my addiction was and why I needed rehab.

The weekend started off much as planned, although I started rehab late on Friday night, after going to a book sale (6 books and 12 house magazines for $8) and the movies (Hot Fuzz - funny but too violent!). I watched my favourite house show - Relocation, Relocation and read 2 of the house magazines.

I thought that I would have trouble sleeping, because I'd only had popcorn for dinner, and because most of my friends seem to be having trouble sleeping these days (why? is it the male menopause?) but no, I slept soundly all night.

I think my friends were surprised to see me acting normally at the BBQ on Saturday afternoon - drinking my favourite cocktails, making movies of them, singing. They knew I was "in rehab" for the weekend and maybe they expected that I would be different - more subdued? Maybe they thought that I wouldn't drink in rehab?

After the BBQ, I lounged on my couch, watching hockey (too sad) and reading 2 more of the house magazines. Canadian House and Home is my new favourite magazine! (FYI: The new trends are: chandeliers, bold patterns, flower gardens, and small homes.)

I didn't see the Independent Observer on Sunday. Instead, I sat in the sun in the backyard and read another 4 house magazines. Had to force myself to read the Us Weekly (tabloid) that I'd bought on Thursday night. (Yes, some of the movie stars are too thin, beautiful dresses are always in style, and Reese looks happy again.)

In the bath on Sunday night I was thinking about: pink nail polish, the massage I had on Saturday afternoon, cupcakes (where can I get some in Ottawa?), flowered sheet sets, planting flowers, searching the MLS for homes for friends, travelling with friends, and antique armoires. And then it occurred to me: I wasn't thinking about celebrities - I don't really care about the lives of the celebrities; I care about the lives of my friends. And, I like to read house magazines. So, I think my addiction is house magazines.

In case you were counting, I have 4 house magazines left to read. Now that I know I have a problem, should I put them aside?

Being the helpful guy I am, I have found a number of helpful links for Audrey:

• Meet others who want to end their similar addiction at 43 Things.
• Information on the related condition of bibliomania.
• Hope for Audrey - the anti-addiction pill!
  
• Learn more every month about how to tackle the problem with Treatment Magazine.

Hang in there, Audrey! They say the first step is recognizing that you have a problem.

People in their lounging robes

I love Le Nordik, the scandinavian spa just 20 minutes from Ottawa. It is amazing, and reasonably priced. Much cheaper than therapy, and you come away feeling refreshed and rejuvenated without having to talk to anyone. In fact, they encourage silence there. I loved everything about the place, except for one thing: people wearing lounging robes, robe de chambres, morning dresses, housecoats, bathrobes, wrappers, yukatas -- whatever you happen to call them.
I was trying to explore what I dislike about them, and I think it may all come back to the intimacy problem. I feel strangers are getting too intimate with me when they are wearing those things. On the other hand, I love people in their bathing suits. No problem there. I think I might be ok with them naked, too, if it were a nudist scandinavian spa. But, there was something about seeing that silver-haired devil in the bar area in his red terry cloth robe that freaked me out. Maybe I need to discuss this with my therapist.

Let's all have a good thought for Audrey

Earlier today, Audrey sent out this email:

I just wanted to let you know that I've decided to enter rehab. Just for the weekend, of course.

Like Britney, Lindsay and Jonathan Rhys Meyers, I don't have any specific problem. However, I like to keep up with the latest trends.

Even Michaëlle Jean is taking a little break.

Of course I will leave rehab briefly to attend a Saturday afternoon BBQ.

And I might be persuaded to watch hockey out on Saturday night.

And, too, I might leave rehab to have breakfast out on Elgin Street on Sunday morning.

Maybe the Independent Observer will want to visit open houses with me on Sunday afternoon.

However, I will be in rehab the rest of the time.

Hopefully, during my stint in rehab I will get to eat lots of chocolate, will take long naps, and will read all the tabloids.

Maybe, if I am lucky, I will have a massage.

You will still be able to reach me, since I will be at my usual location - it will be an "in-house" rehab session.

I will keep you informed of my progress.

Caribou! A progress report on Canada's new national toast

It has been almost a year since I christened Caribou! as Canada's national toast. So it seems time for a refreshing update.

With the exception of some initial encouragement from the lovely Aggie, my proposal was met with skepticism on the part of most of the ESIs.

So after generating some summer buzz at Bluesfest, I took the concept on the road. After all, sometimes Canadians honour their own only after people abroad have given their blessing. (Katrina and the Waves are still virtual demigods among the Jarawa of India's Andaman Islands.)

A frothy cappuccino at Heathrow Airport's Caffe Nero in late July marked the first international Caribou! cheer. Only two problems: I am alone. The coffee sets me back £4.30.

On to Morocco, a land renowned for its hospitality and therefore the perfect launching point for the African Caribou! craze. With Audrey as my witness, I raise a Casablanca beer to introduce Canada's national toast the Dark Continent.

However, it soon occurs to us that in a largely Muslim country alcohol is somewhat difficult to find. So the next cry of Caribou! is heard over milkshakes at a rather exotic Marrakech luncheon spot that serves something called the McArabia.

Three continents down. Four to go.