A Trip to the German Christmas Market

It was another trip to the German Christmas Market tonight, this time with Sheral and Tara. What can I say—we pretty much ate everything in sight. It was funny at first, but within two hours that overly full feeling began to set in and we could barely waddle back to Tara’s place. It’s tough to say no when you’re with a group of enablers—the look on our faces as we watched them drizzle an insane amount of gooey melted cheese over bread, smoked meat and pickles was priceless, along with moving in super slow-motion with jaws open as we passed the fountains of chocolate that covered freshly cut fruit. The pretzels were hot right out of the oven, the cider was nice and spicy, and the waffles-on-a-stick were the final straw that broke the foodies’ back.

In amongst the ornament shopping, fair trade dolls, and countless wooden toys, was all the German you can get—from the people behind the stands to the fabulous little band at centre stage chiming out Christmas songs with a German twist. We had a ton of laughs, making as many jokes as we could about the abundance of sausages everywhere and the ridiculous amount of food we consumed. A few things were purchased that were not edible, including pickle Christmas tree ornaments and some delicious wintery-flavoured tea. At the end of the night, after we had eaten ourselves into a stupor with the waffle-goodness that required a moment alone (they were THAT good), we headed out, feeling a tad sick perhaps. It was a great night...the question is, what will the morning hold?

Ode to the Neon - a goodbye to my 15 year old car.

Ode to the Neon

It's been 15 years since I bought my Neon, versus a lease,
She had no special features, not even a trunk release.

She was nicknamed the "Smartie" because of her colourful hue,
And I will truly miss her as a bid her adue.

Good times were had in the early years,
Before the carbon monoxide fumes brought me to tears.

A little bit of BC travelling she did go,
And for two years endured the harsh Ontario winter snow.

As my lengthy commute went on, many hand gestures we endured,
Me? Driving Fast? That's just absurd.

One day a spilt bag of bird seed and a week of rain after that,
Not before long, my back seat mats had germinated live plants.

There were stickers a plenty to make her stand out,
"Island Girl", "Rollergirl", and a big "Hydro" one for 2 hour parking clout.

And if the back seat could talk with no word of a lie,
It would say it easily holds a 6'4" rugby guy.

She's even met a celebrity--it was all good,
We hit Johnny Knoxville on Seymour--he left a dent in our hood.

Soon we left oil in every spot that we went,
She's single-handedly to blame why the Ozone is spent.

The smell inside her was sometimes too much to bear,
Surely I couldn't have been the only living organism in there.

In the later years, the dust piled up,
And so did all the sh*t in her trunk.

And full she was, no room for one little bit,
My passengers always watching me move things so they could sit.

When my dog entered the scene, he was quite hairy you know,
So everyone who sat in her had a little Bodie to show.

I ran her hard, almost 400,000 clicks,
But the odometer had stopped working, and the dash lights flicked.

We had an understanding, she and I,
And I always talked to her with a watchful eye.

For trash talking she did not like,
As I discovered each time I had to call BCAA on Granville in the middle of the night.

But soon came a few dangerous rides that were scary at best,
And I knew right then and there I had to put her to rest.

So I say to you sweet car as I think fondly back of our days,
Apart you will be picked, but still loved by she who is crazed.