Sunglasses

A grapefruit-spinach-banana-mango-cayenne smoothie for breakfast, followed by a steamroller #11. The girl working at Steamrollers asked me if I was really going to plant my shirt. My shirt reads, "When I've finished with this t-shirt I'm going to plant it." I scoffed and said, "No way; it's merino wool," but I could tell that she didn't hear what I said. I wonder what she thought I said. I hope it was something better than what I actually said.

Later: I sat in the park and read a book in the sunshine with the pigeons; ate a banana; Goran called -- he was in the neighbourhood so we went for a bike/blade around the Stanley Park seawall. Despite the congestion on the seawall as per usual, and despite the oblivious best efforts of the masses of ipod-wearing bladers and walkers, I didn't run anyone over this time. Nor last time. Knock on wood for next time.

After the seawall rush hour, we walked down the quiet west end streets of colourful flowering gardens and tree blossom scents to the Robson Street Caper's for a masala wrap (cous cous, lentils, tomatoes, onion, almonds, raisins, etc.). We also made a stop at Safeway to try out the self-serve checkout. Somewhere along the way, likely while bouncing a racquetball off of anything solid along our path, Goran misplaced/dropped his favourite feels-like-a-part-of-him sunglasses. (A detachable part of himself, apparently.) We spent the rest of the evening retracing our steps but found nothing. Well we found electrical tape and some batteries. By the end of this mini odyssey, Goran had lost not only his sunglasses but also the hope that he'd find his sunglasses. This was a case of the journey sucking as much as the result because the whole time that we were looking he wouldn't stop talking about how upset he was with himself that he'd lost his best, never made again, unique in all existence, sunglasses.

Learn from this, children.

Moral: If you find sunglasses that answer to the name of Sweet Companions, give them to Goran. Thank-you and goodnight.
=)