Julia and Becky saved my life this week. They rescued me from my kitchen, which isn't exactly a dank, dark dungeon but which feels just the tiniest bit like one after a few months of winter, and took me out into the city - where there were people and real rays of sunlight!
O my heart.
Julia took me to the Science Center. I don't know why I didn't see this before: the cure for the winter blahs is science, plain and simple. Also, seeing a place like that through the eyes of her two year old son was pretty cool.
Julia even went on the gyro gym. Her son thought it was a medieval torture device or something and screamed at the guy running the thing until he let her go.
The next day, Becky texted and asked if she could take me on a picnic at the Floral Conservatory, which is this sweet greenhouse that me and my friends escape to every once in a while to pretend like we don't live in Saskatchewan. You walk in, take off all your winter layers, and bask in the humidity and heat. You bring a book or a snack or a coffee or a picnic lunch. You don't look up; you pretend that you are not surrounded by glass. You pretend that the air outside the Glass That Does Not Exist couldn't give you frost bite in less than five minutes. It's a coping mechanism.
Anyway. Long story that isn't really a story, or at least not a very fascinating story anyway, short, we went. And we ditched our coats and ate Brie and crackers and meat and Dunkaroos and juice and Sullivan ran around loving his life until he fell and skinned his forehead. Until that exact moment, it was the perfect afternoon.
I'm back in my kitchen now, Sullivan is literally running around me in circles as I write this, but we're headed to the museum tomorrow, and maybe to the art gallery later this week? Winter: I'm going to win this round. Or at least I'm going down swinging.