Party Animal

I finally got somewhere on my bike on Saturday — rode around Stanley Park. I’m so out of shape that the traffic jam of people walking, roller-blading and biking on the seawall served to make me moderate my velocity. I know I’ve said this before, but I always get a kick out of how diverse Vancouver is. I always hear a dozen languages, at least, out on the seawall. There’s people of all shapes and guises: dignified elderly couples out for a stroll, suited Japanese sararimen riding knock-kneed on rented classic bicycles, little white-haired ladies in tights, pads and roller-blades, kids on skateboards, parents pushing or towing strollers or carrying tired children, dogs scrambling to keep up or loping lazily along. And all in the bright sunshine, cool breeze, green trees, blue water, white sails. You couldn’t ask for a nice place to live, really.

The usual suspects collected here on Saturday evening for chocolate fondue and hot-tubbing. Much fun was had, and although we didn’t get into the usual heated philosophical or theological debate, it was nice to just hang out and talk of frivolous things. Like child care, as I recall. Since none of us have children, this would follow how, exactly?

Ken Shigamatsu preached an even more trenchant than usual sermon today. Strange how he’s probably the polar opposite of Ross Hastings, but I enjoy — is that the right word? — his preaching just as well.

So tonight I thought I’d make up for missing a couple of weeks of my one-night-a-week dine out policy. So I went to Capones, an Italian place just down the street. Ceasar salad, lamb & rosemary sausage penne, a nice glass of chianti and orange cheescake, not to mention the live jazz piano later, I’m feeling well sufficed.

Now to put away the groceries, read a bit, and to bed. A lazy and civilized weekend.