To the Doctor and Back

The one balcony I liked. Hemlock St.

Today I set out to look at balconies on a grey but dry day (so far). I live in a tower and have no balcony; only two windows open. I have windows from wall to wall but I miss the outdoors and even one plant so I pine to move every summer—to a place with a big balcony.

Today was disheartening. Almost every balcony I saw was tiny; the worst was one with two doors accessing onto it that prevented you from having anything on the balcony so that both doors could open. Many were overcrowded. I only saw one I liked and it is clear I couldn’t afford it.

I walked to my (wonderful) doctor’s office, waited an hour and then had a great visit because it was my first visit since he saw my play. I also received an invitation for a dinner and a private screening of a film (I am in) at a major philanthropist’s home here in Vancouver and another guest wrote to me who had seen my play. The phrase that dominates my life since the play debuted is: Positive unexpected outcomes.

“Stop to smell the roses,” they say. I do. In fact I stop to smell any fragrant flower. I worship the sense of smell. I also stop for dogs and cats. I am animal manic and reading Inside of a Dog by Alexandra Horowitz is teaching me about my canine brothers. They not only stop to smell the roses, they can smell a difference in each petal.

I came home via the market and bought supplies to make another tart. Oh my God. What is going to happen to my waist? The worst thing about this sudden (and unexpected) interest in baking is that cooking for friends is going to take even longer. I never cooked desert. I would always make a simple fruit desert; all I cared about was the savoury part of the meal. Now the cooking/eating time ratio is going to be even worse.

 Fairview Slopes (above and below) was once a tony area to live. W 8th.

More houses with front porches mere meters from the street. W 8th.

Sites like this make me melt.