Clearly sweets are on my mind

Today I went to Vancouver to visit my friend Jemima Brooklyn. Actually, I'm writing this post on my iPod notepad (note: not equivalent to the iPad, which is continuing to confuse me as I try to figure out how something that's pretty much an awkwardly sized iPod/iPhone is so desirable) on the train(bus) home that I just had to sprint to catch. There's nothing quite like sprinting away from a plateful of desserts to catch the last train(bus) home. What makes such a trip particularly fun is the increased metabolism of the couple of drinks I had with dinner, one of which was full of cotton candy. It was so very awesome that the well dressed, stiff-shouldered children across from us looked incredibly jealous.


I felt sad for the poor stiff children, who struck me as just an accessory to go with their mother's perfect, and also stiff, hair. Jemima texted me on the train(bus) after I'd left to let me know that the mother had left them to go to the washroom and they relaxed for a bit. I noted earlier that the washrooms smelled like candy, so I'm hoping that kept her in there a little bit longer to allow their tiny trapezius muscles to get a good break.

We also were given complementary Kobe beef meatballs. Jemima thought that grinding up Kobe beef seemed like a waste of particularly good beef, then described how the process of producing Kobe beef involves regular massages to keep them tender. So, naturally, I asked, "Is that before or after they're dead?" and she said, "Before." Which made me think that they probably have a better quality of life than most farm animals. If it weere after, I would have thought it was about equal.

Then Jemima wondered if rich people who get a lot of massages produce better meat, which I thought was a good thing to look into in preparation for if you ever find yourself in an island planecrash. It's also a good reason to avoid massages if you're planning on flying anytime soon. Additionally, I'm not certain that the bears aren't already aware of the relationship between massages and deliciousness, so probably best to avoid bear country too if you're fond of massages.

I should probably mention that at the time of the Kobe beef discussion, I tried to write a note in my iPod to remind me to blog about it. But, the "M" button is so close to delete that "Kobe beef massage" became "Kobe beefassage", which seems quite unappetizing. Almost as unappetizing as cannibalism jokes, one might say.

Last night, I discovered one more reason that I very much love Char-char Junior the Second. She was a bit fussy, so I was singing her "New York, New York" which I know pretty well, due to my vagabond shoes' generally strong desire to stray (and also to step around the heart of it). Unfortunately, as impressive as my lyric knowledge and emotional connection to the song may be, it doesn't actually help me to sing it on-key. Usually, I get midway through and realize that the song is suddenly out of my very limited range and need to go down an octave, or just fake it and hope for the best. But Char-char, being the perfect niece that she is, actually smiles more the further off-key I get. This is good, because it happens often and baby smiles are like delicious candy, but in baby form and less likely to cause diabetes.

Based on that last simile, I'm wondering if I'm still missing the delicious plate of desserts that I left behind to ensure I could make it home to blog this. So, I'm going to end this post with a delicious picture of the aforementioned dessert. Enjoy.