Sunday, December 04, 2016


I'm writing this from the Regina airport; it's 8 something and our flight's been delayed due to a mushroom soup-like fog. People are grumbling but I'm super ok with caution. Caution is great.

Unless we miss our connection in Edmonton., caution is still great.

And anyway, can I complain? I'm looking at a full day of sitting down. Sitting down here, sitting down on a plane, sitting down in some other place, etc. Most relaxing day ever. And after this past week, I welcome some good old sitting.

Take Thursday, for example: the day itself was fairly normal, with a little work and a little company and a little grocery shopping, but I quadruple-booked myself in the evening, and it was one of those nights that just kind of bled into the next morning. 

6 pm: axe throwing 
6:45 pm: hang with friends
8 pm: Lay Awakes concert
11 pm: Paper Umbrella all nighter (I didn't stay all night, though)
6 am: CBC Morning Edition live taping

(Now I'm in the Edmonton airport.)

So axe throwing! Is a thing that I apparently do now. Or did once. And am terrible at, if we're being honest (honesty is great like caution). 

A new business is opening up in Regina called Lumberjax and it's, essentially, a warehouse with targets to throw axes at. It's like darts but it's hatchets. It's like bowling but you brag about it after instead of pretending you didn't do it. 

I mean, check me out. 

Barclay and Sully and I went to their pre-opening event on Thursday, like I said, and it was very fun and super hard. I have a newfound respect for people in movies who dramatically spin on their heel and fling an axe directly into a target. I also imagine that this scene generally requires several takes which often end in a rogue hatchet ricocheting off the target and skittering across the floor and the actor melting to the floor in either a fit of giggles or humiliation. Or both.

But the fact remains that no matter how much you suck at actual axe throwing, you get to say afterward that you went axe throwing. 

Like, you know, me. You may call me Tough Suzy.