Unorganized thoughts about Toronto from a girl raised in McMurray

Looking out my hotel window, I spot Penelope Cruz putting on mascara, a buff, shirtless guy sitting beside a snowy mountain range and a very large silhouette of a hip hop dancer wearing an iPod. Standing at the airport baggage carousel, a very large live image is projected on the two-storey sized wall near me. On the airport shuttle bus on the way downtown, there are never-ending billboards flying past at 120 km/hr. Even the strip of grass along the freeway is cut and shaped into logos for banks, stores… the United Way??

A presenter in the conference I attended said that North Americans are bombarded by 5,000 images and brands daily. That is true. If you live in Toronto.

There are over 200 restaurants within a three block radius of my hotel. That is just cool. Last night I only walked one block and couldn’t make up my mind so I chose the very last restaurant on the block and scored the best butter chicken takeout I’ve ever had. And only for $18! I can’t help but wonder if this could compete with the other Indian food place I passed a half a block ago.

When the sun sets through the smog, an eerie orange-pink light settles over the city. The orange palm tree lights illuminate at the Hooters on the corner, and – hey! Another silhouetted dancer with an iPod!

I was embarrassed to admit there was a bad odour following me around the whole time I was in Toronto. Then I realized the garbage-like smell was actually the smog. Yuck.

The Muchmusic building looks much smaller in real life. And Queen Street is way skinnier than even Franklin Avenue. The city builders must have decided one thoroughfare through downtown was no longer meeting the traffic needs, so they built a freeway right over top of it. Literally, on top of it, like held up by pillars. It seems so futuristic to me.

Maybe I’m some small-town hick from the west; Toronto was a cool place to gape at for a couple days and eat some good food, but I would probably not live there. When I got back to Fort McMurray, I sucked the fresh summery smell into my lungs like I never have before and appreciated it more than I can put into words.

I finally understand why moms have such big purses

When I started my job last August, my mom handed me a monster-sized purse. She said, "I bought this but I haven’t used it yet, so you can have it for your new job." I laughed SO hard. Why would I ever want/need/use a purse that large?

In fear of hurting her feelings any more than I already had by laughing, I started using the purse. Once I found out how much stuff it could hold, I never looked back! I finally understand why moms carry such large purses – because they hold all the shit they have to take with them, plus a bunch of other shit that they might end up needing that day.

To demonstrate the awesome handiness of my mom purse, I will now list the current contents:

• Salad for lunch
• Bottle of salad dressing
• Container of grapes
• Two cans of Fresca
• Travel coffee mug (the large size)
• Wallet
• Phone
• Perfume
• A necklace
• Notepad
• Chequebook
• Various papers
• Compact (the large kind)
• Lip gloss and lip stick
• Hand cream
• Deodorant
• Lint roller

Honestly, a lint roller?? I only use it like five times a year. But if I need it today, I will have it.

I should also mention there is room left in my purse for at least one more salad, or perhaps a jar of peanut butter.

Imagine how big my purse will be when I actually have kids?

The first attack of the year

Today on my way into the grocery store, a large, black flying bug with a surrounding silhouette of wings and antennae flew in dangerous proximity past my shoulder, this-close to my hair. Any girl who grew up in Fort McMurray and experienced a June-bug-in-hair incident can relate to my panicked feeling, complete with a jump in my heart rate and urge to run to safety with flailing arms.

On my way out of the store, the bug was on a revenge mission after missing me the first time. My eyes darted around the parking lot and suddenly, there he was – flying straight towards me. Using my mom-sized purse as a shield, I awkwardly dodged the bug like a really tall ninja, going, “eeeeeee – yuck – yuck – yuck” and so forth. With the whole scene seemingly in slow motion, the five second attack seemed to last minutes until the exhausted bug back-flipped and landed on the pavement. I ran with flailing arms to safety in my car.

June bugs. I love to hate them. Funny the first attack should happen today – June 1st.