we spent the weekend in vancouver, forcing girlie drinks down g's throat and eating vast quantities of crunchy delicious homemade tofu fingers dipped in polish mayonnaise. it was fun. on saturday, we went on a truffle and wine tour. it started way too early and i did the one thing that is guaranteed to make sure your day rocks - i rued the moment i decided to say yes to a tour that began at 8:30 am and bitched heartily (though internally, for a change) at the very idea of losing my saturday to a scheduled event. i'm serious, the best way to have a great time is to think you're going to have a rotten time. it works every damn time. ah, the joy of low expectations!
so, did you know they grow truffles in canada? yup. they do. we expected walks through mature oak groves with leashed pigs (well, i did, anyhow) but ended up standing around wee little tiny hazelnutlings and oaklings. there were no pigs, but there were dogs and kittens. and interesting people who love mushrooms. a lot. everyone was really really nice, except for the pompous old bastard with furry ears whom we promptly renamed myco-cilia. the mushroom community obviously rocks.
after the tour, we went out to eat (and drink) to prep ourselves for the afternoon wine tour and tasting. lunch was delicious. you all know how sick and tired i am of fancy dining which typically translates to a large white plate with artful chive weavings, julienned roasted pigs ear and puree of caramelized gristle drizzled with a reduction of cauliflower jus. not this place, my friends. the food was fancy but flavourful, though tall.
while perusing the menu, mister monkey asked me how to pronounce boeuf bourguignon, and much hilarity ensued. i swear, i want to take this man to france just to listen to him butcher the language. the fun never ends. we drank two bottles of wine (6 of us), ate a multi-course meal, took a tour of a winery and scowled at the bastards who poured their left-over wine into the spittoon.
then we drove along the american border and hurled insults down south (only at the republicans, my poultries, only at the republicans).
THEN we checked out the lululemon warehouse. it is a great and wondrous place, provided you are a diminutive yoga diva who wears size 0. or a topless fanatic who eschews clothing waist-up. neither of which is moi, so i walked away empty handed, soul aching from the broken expectations.
that night we slept in our very own new westminster condo which is currently in between tenants. the inflatable mattresses were marginally better than sleeping directly on the floor but watching the tug boats on the river all morning made it all worthwhile. i love our place. i cannot wait to live there and have you over and cook you stuff. really. especially after we rip out the wall to wall bacterial infestation that they call carpeting.
it was a weekend of much giggling. let's do it again!