We braved the Vancouver morning rush hour to get to the Tomahawk, the lamentably named Vancouver institution which has been serving breakfast since 1926. It’s also directly upwind from a mosque – how tired they must get of the smell of swineflesh cooking. It was lovely; we got to eat outside in a lovely arbour, hemmed about with nicely draped weeping sequoias and enlivened with the cheeping presence of a white crowned sparrow. The food and service were excellent, but since it involves driving across town in rush hour to do breakfast, we won’t be doing that agin except for very special occasions. Like Jeff’s birthday.
On the way we got treated to the excrementally bad signage (go right, no not here you idiot, ignore that previous sign), being forced to stop in the Cassiar tunnel, and you KNOW how I feel about being forced to come to a standstill in a tunnel, and the ludicrously self important driving of many, many miscreants. We stopped off at one of Jeff’s clients’ place of business on the way back to save him a trip and I got a little work done on the novel.
The Amazing Spiderman 2 is one half of a good movie. The script made me long for lightning to strike, somebody, somewhere. Jamie Foxx was entirely wasted and the little nimrod who plays Spidey, whose name escapes, has all the energy of re-wetted papier mâché. The action sequences had us cheering; the talking sequences had both of us begging for swift unconsciousness.
Jeff enjoyed Dead Snow II – a Nazi zombie movie sequel that was, so I’m given to understand, more inventive, scarier and funnier than the first. Zombies using a length of intestine to siphon fuel? Clever people, these Germans.
Sandra informs me that her cat, Shadow, has been stomping around the house calling me, which is funny because all I did was take pictures of her butt and skritch her a few times, also I did the doorwarden cause you have thumbs thing a couple of times. She is a magnificent beast, and a mighty hunter, which when the cabins get varmints is a good thing.
I made a meatloaf! It is so garlicky that vampires two counties away suddenly feel ill at ease.
Today I may or may not make coleslaw.
