health

today's coffeeshop lesson of the day:

when you hear someone -- aka the thirtysomething blonde at the neighbouring table -- wheeze (nearly published as "weaze"... o_O) through a disastrously raspy voice, don't even think about assuming they're a diehard chain-smoker! they may, as it turns out, just be a very enthusiastic Goodlife fitness instructor.

(hope she notices the cross-trainers peeking now-triumphantly out of my backpack...)

and now back to translating...

mystery man: part III (or take II of parts I and II)

this evening, last week's barista-meets-delivery-girl greets me from the other side of the coffeeshop counter. it's quiet in here now. so, before serving me my hot tea, she enquires -- engaged and enthusiastic -- about "the event" she and i have yet to discuss. we proceed to back and forth about it, each of us sharing her own side of the experience. she tells me how some young woman had approached her near the drink bar and passed along the goods while on the phone getting confirmation that the timing of the delivery was in fact right. i tell her how i'd later learned that that young woman -- whom i'd never met, but who'd been commissioned to run the romantic errand on behalf of her metropolitan friend -- had been sitting right across from me as i received the gauzy blue gift...how she'd been on the phone with the Giver, covertly providing him with a play-by-play of my giddy reaction and then frantically hanging up when she saw me reach for my own phone in order to call him, in an it's-the-night-before-xmas kind of disbelief, to at least attempt to express my gratitude.

after a pause, and amid the kind of smiles that seem to float overhead and softly settle around you like a pillow or a cloud, she says: wow...it's kinda like in a movie!

yeah, he really is pretty great, i say. it's a response that spills out slowly and naturally from a very warm place deep inside my chest. nonetheless, when it's typed out, the statement is decidedly and regretfully inadequate.

upon sitting down with my tea, i flip open my laptop and, without feeling hurried, reread the last two blog entries. after all, one of the beauties of keeping a blog is that you can navel-gaze and otherwise indulge yourself as much as you want or need to. and, through this indulgence, i rediscover those moments: their surprise, my burning cheeks, the mystery man, his rare thoughtfulness, the fleeting and deluded and perfect feeling of believing i was the most special person in the world.

and it now occurs to me that another beautiful thing about blogging is time travel. today is a very sad day. but, thanks to this portal, i've momently resurfaced.

and now back to translating...

mystery man: part II

i'd already been in the coffee shop for several hours. catching up with a good friend first thing this morning, then working on polishing a (still ongoing) translation. all of it interspersed with brief minglings with several baristas.

long after i'd finished my hot chocolate and only shortly after i'd grabbed a sandwich and rice krispies square, one of the baristas -- whom i'd yet to mingle with today but otherwise know well (y'know, as much as a coffee shop regular might know a barista) -- walks over and, smilingly though quite tentatively, says:

hey there. i was instructed to deliver this to Trish. i don't really know anything else about it. but...you are Trish, right?

then, before returning to her post, she hands over a small, gauzy, light-blue bag. inside it are a scroll, with a long and thoughtful hand-written note in it, and a long thin box containing six chocolate truffles.

*insert long pause for general giddiness, notably featuring beet-red blushing*

truth be told, i know the identity of the man who sent the bag. but the mystery surrounding him (how'd he get the bag here? where'd he learn to be so considerate? how've i managed to be on the receiving end of such gestures? how do i encourage more of this behaviour?) remains.

and now back to translating...

mystery man

first thing this morning, i'm tucked into my favourite neighbourhood coffee shop, seated at one of the round tables by the window. as i'm about to indulge in the first sips from my very tall mug of hot chocolate and resume a literary translation side project, a very tall thirtysomething man (in loose jogging pants, with his toque snugly in place around his ears, and seemingly having just tumbled out of bed) walks over, leans down towards me and, in a soft voice, says: i see you already have a hot chocolate. but, just so you know, i've paid for another one for you. Gracie says you can claim it later today or even another day this week. 

then, after a brief pause, he continues: i know you have a lot of work to do, so i'll let you get back to that now. 

and, with that, and a warm gentle smile, he steps away from my round table, walks out the door, and heads off through the park and into the distance.

and now back to translating...

a tale of truisms

in music, silences are key to notes that play.
in dance, stillnesses shift shapes into being.
in translation, unrendered words have lots to say.
in coffee shops, empty mugs menace meaning.

and now back to translating...

puppy love (or dog daze) (or wedding balls?)

i absolutely, most definitely have too much work to be blogging right now. but, sometimes, real-life situations impose themselves in such a way that our plans -- to work, to clean, to call, to eat, to sleep, ... -- get thwarted. (like when you're already running late for a really pressing work thing and, as you bend over to pick up the keys you've just dropped on the sidewalk halfway to the office, the seam in your pant crotch splits in no uncertain terms, completely exposing your everything to the world, forcing you to head back home to change, making you embarrassingly late for the meeting, and ultimately leading to myriads of unfortunate professional consequences. oh, eff!)

today's (now abnormal) weekend adventures in coffeeshopping involve, on my not-so-distant left, a very loud, wiry, lispy, rather-desperately-in-need-of-attention, forty-something, self-proclaimed-expert, wedding planner/photographer who is telling the late-thirties prenuptialists how things'll be done. 

my ears perk up when i overhear how the couple announced their engagement (via facebook, of course), the proclamation involving posting a pic of their dog -- apparently, a purebred french bulldog (eighteen or nineteen pounds -- with not an ounce of fat on 'er, though!) -- with a sign placed in front of her: “my daddy just asked my mommy to marry him.”

i have just groaned quietly to myself (the kind of groan that would otherwise be accompanied by dragon mist shooting outta my ears and the sound of a steam train whistle). and, in my mind, i've also aggressively rolled my eyes in every which way (which, truth be told, begins to hurt after a short while). but Expert is getting paid for her interactions with the happy couple, so y'know, her response is a touch different than mine: the dog thing is SO cute! (oh, woof!)

then, things get worse. because, obviously, ThirtySomethingOne and ThirtySomethingTwo want to incorporate Lolita (yes, that's the dog's name) in the wedding day. thus begin discussions of the logistics of how to manage Lolita for the photo shoot, intermingled with every pet owner's dream -- i.e., the opportunity to describe the nitty-gritty of their pet's ever-idiosyncratic personality:

oh, if she [aka the planner's assistant] holds the ball, Lolita'll watch the ball! (TSOne and TSTwo glance over at each other, with proud, knowing, saccharine smiles that scream "honey, aren't we blessed to have such a perfect pup!') she'll just sit there for hoooours watching her ball. that ball's her nemesis. *insert chuckling over the hilariously weird ways of the dog-cum-prize-child*

shortly before wrapping up their meeting, Expert announces with great satisfaction: well, i find your ideas surprisingly cohesive! 

if "cohesive" means "dogful", i'm not sure anyone could disagree. and, y'know, a good wedding is nothing if not cohesive.

and now back to translating...

saved

steering clear of hot chocolates when it's not monday has been going well. i've been managing to save up my change as well as my cravings. but this morning calls for an exception to be made (admittedly, partly thanks to a little birthday money in my mailbox this week).

as i walk up to the counter, i see that one of my favourite baristas is prepping to take my order. there's just no topping her smile. as warm and perfect as my forthcoming drink.

and then, for the first time, i notice her name tag: Saviour. no kidding!

and now back to translating...