Ok, there was a lot of excitement this weekend. First, Earth Hour - Saturday @ 8:30 pm.
Look, you have to expect a different level of participation in this kind thing from city folk. We love the planet as much as anyone else, which is why we kind of want to live a little while longer on it, hence we don't take to turning off all the lights so we can venture down a dark city street. It's more likely we'll see our last day on Earth by engaging in this activity than contributing to the exhaustion of the world's resources by keeping my new floor lamp on.
And yes, I do care about future generations but I don't know how much I'll worry about that when I'm dead. Who knows - perhaps I'll worry about it a lot, I mean I'm not sure what else there will be to do on the other side besides figure out ways I can haunt people and worry about future generations but, again - what do I know? Maybe the other side has cool offerings likeThunderdome - fights to the death everynight except no one really dies because they're already dead. Ok, that wouldn't be much fun either. Except perhaps if instead of dying you get thrown back into the rebirth cycle but you spend the next lifetime as a bed bug or something. Anyway, that proves my point even further. I am not in a hurry to leave the earth so I think I am better off living in a place where they don't take Earth Hour too seriously.
I guess a lot of people felt exactly the same way I did because this is what the city looked like during Earth Hour.
Ok, earlier in the day we ventured out to do errands. We hate errands. We had to go to some of The World's Worst Places to Go on a Weekend, places like Home Depot and such. At Home Depot we are such complete do it yourself morons that strangers come up to us and give us advice as in what kind of cutting thingie would cut a very thin strip of wood. It's kind of embarrassing - like having people put money in your cup after you play bad guitar and recite awful poetry on the street (no I have never done this but I assume it's pretty humiliating.) What we do to eliminate some of the embarrassment factor in these situations is announce that We Live In a Condo. After which the good Samaritan raises his eyebrows and says "Ohhhhhh." and helps us in a less pitiful if-not-but-for-the-grace-of-God-way and more the way you'd help a kid learn something for the first time, you know, all patient and fatherly and all.
Anyway, the highlight of this trip was a little something I noticed, thanks to my keen eye for the weird, in the car parked next to ours. Yeah, those are little tree car fresheners. MANY of them. I told Dave we might want to call the police because there just had to be a dead body in the trunk of that car, but he was more convinced that that driver has a bit of a chronic gastro-intestinal disturbance (to put it nicely) but that's because I am the Girl Detective and he is the Late Blooming Pre-Adolescent Teenage Boy Nerd. Which is why we get along so well. Everyone knows that Girl Detectives do not want a Know it All Boyfriend, but a goofy sidekick to make them appear more worldly, brilliant and beautiful.
Sunday we went to a Shamanic Journeying Workshop which I am not going to even make a tiny joke about because I do not make a habit of upsetting Native Spirit Guides and it was an extremely awesome experience.
However. I'm trying to convince Dave to sign us up for the drum making workshop - I explained how interesting we would seem to our friends when, after a few cocktails at our place we brought out our Made It Ourselves drums and then started playing and how after they left (while in the elevator) they'd say things like "we are NEVER hanging out with those people again." Or maybe they'd say "I wish we were more like Dave and Janine. They are so cool." Or maybe they'd say "If we ever think about having drums, let's just buy them, ok?"
My point is, people would be talking about us and that's a good thing. It means we are not boring and so that's why I think we should learn to make drums.
Anyway, that was my argument. I'm pretty sure it's working. He's starting to cave.