third time's a charm

four days ago, shortly after i've plunked my stuff down on the coffee shop table, Cherub cracks open a large plastic container (that i recognize from the grocery store) and hands me one of a dozen shortbread cookies covered with thick red icing and sprinkles galore. the flavour's a bit off, actually. but the cookie's sweet all the same. and, besides, when else do you receive not one, not two, but three gifts from someone in honour of their birthday? that hasn't happened since waaay back in the era of birthday party loot bags -- when necklaces were made of froot loops (god bless edible jewellery!), and a lucky charm was merely something you found in an "irish" cereal box. plus, whereas the promise of the loot bag was sometimes the reason you decided to go to the party at all (be honest, now!), each of Cherub's foil-wrapped or icing-sprinkled goodies is a complete and delightful surprise.

before he manages to deliver his gift, i (finally) give him a birthday card. it's eight days late. but right on time for valentine's. since we don't know each other very well, the message inside is brief and, though friendly, no doubt a bit distant. but, if you read between the lines, you make out, loud and clear: thanks for making february 2013 pretty special.

and now back to translating...

double-pierced

early this morning, Cherub strikes again. this time, delivering a red-wrapped hershey's kiss. since you're always working so hard..., he says. and hobbles gently back to his table. it's officially time to pick up a birthday card for my new friend.

and now back to translating...

piercings

maybe cupid comes in a number of forms. and maybe he makes his cherubic entrance -- aw, look at that sweet-little, naked wiggler of a cartoon bum! -- a few days earlier than Mr. Calendar (*cough* Mr. Capitalism) had intended.

it's hard to deny the heart-melting powers of that wide-eyed golden retriever waiting in the bright sun on the other side of the window. and i find myself getting a wee weepy (oh, brother...) because of this morning's soundtrack: can hear Mom in Joni Mitchell's complicated voice and can picture my sister barrel-of-laughtering when Tom Waits begins murmurring. but it's a few moments later that cupid really sets his bow and arrow in motion.

a fellow coffee-shop regular starts slowly shuffling over. we've talked only once or twice before, and only ever briefly. he's a quiet, older man who's always engrossed in his newspaper and, especially, in the crossword puzzle. (a man after mine own heart!) when he reaches my table, he rather tentatively holds out his hand and opens his palm. in it, there's a small, red-foil-wrapped chocolate heart. it's my birthday month, he slowly and sweetly explains, so i like to give these out.

dear Heart: consider yourself pierced. and this shot's gonna leave a mark.

and now back to translating...

reviews

some days, all you wanna do is blog. you wanna log insignificant moments. like this assertive law school grad -- who is (she keeps reminding us) from niagara: you don't need to tell me about the realities of niagara falls! (huh?) -- giving oodles of (largely unsolicited) advice to her friend, the law school applicant. about the girl with the reeeally long hair beside me who, having just arrived, is prepping to settle into her seat and has just flashed me a contagiously friendly smile. about the endearing, pudgy, bearded, lumberjack boy in the bright-red mcgill shirt who (in)conspicuously turns around to get a load of Law Grad. about the bob marley hat that Jovial Barista is sporting. about the chocolate-chip-cookie embers floating around in my mug of mint tea (who can resist dunking?). about all ninety centimetres of that still-falling, dusty snow outside.

but none of it matters, of course. surely, what's more important, more pressing, is keeping on with the book review i'm in the middle of writing. surely.

and now back to translating...