Wimbledon

I grew up playing tennis. Although it was not formally competitive, my parents, sibling, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. always took the sport seriously. A regular summer activity as a child was to play tennis in public courts. We'd be so obsessive that after the sun set we'd play well into the night. This was normally fine because the courts were illuminated by flood lights that were lit until 11PM PST. I know the exact time the lights went out because on more than one occasion, we found ourselves in the midst of serious nail-biting court combat that only ceased when the lights shut off. Our parents would then yell at all of us kids to search and collect all of the tennis balls so difficult to detect on those dark summer nights - thank goodness for their bright green hue!

The grand slams were always watched and recorded on VHS tapes as we followed the careers of our favourite tennis stars - Andre Agassi, Pete Sampras, Michael Chang, Steffi Graph, Monica Seles and Martina Hingis. My dad used to get up at all hours of the night to watch the elite match ups live.

My brother even had a court name so during play he preferred to be called the Rad Roo.

Our family has a lifetime of stories about tennis play, competition, fights, racket throwing and confrontations with anyone who thinks they can stay on a public court longer than the allotted 20 minutes. I'll hold all these memories very close to my heart and am thankful everyday that my dad is such a tennis freak. I really miss him today because his little girl walked around the Wimbledon grounds and watched a game on Centre Court.

It's moments like these that I can barely contain my emotion. I thought I'd be writing about my amazing day at Wimbledon (and let me confirm, it was unreal), but instead I find myself lamenting about my family, how crazy they are and how lucky I am.

Goodnight Vancouver

Like I always say, Vancouver is the most beautiful city I have ever seen. Amidst violent riots, a heavy police presence and a deep sadness over the loss of a victory so near, there is a soft and endearing innocence that reverberates just below the surface. In this case, it spilled right onto the street.

The Royal Ascot

This year we celebrate 300 years of horse racing in style with The Royal Ascot.

Meeting the strict dress code with ease...

The men were outfitted in tuxedos, day vests and top hats, while women strolled around in elaborate hats or substantial fascinators. At first, the horses are something of an after-thought because the people watching is spectacular. The brass bands, bustling bars and sing-a-longs are also impressive!

Apart from the fashion, Queen Elizabeth II attendance also made me feel quite fancy (just in case the hat and glove wasn't enough). This was definitely one of those "I can't believe I live here" days. I truly felt like I had waltzed back in time and enjoyed every moment of all the fanfare.

Back to the Future

Did you know that costume in the UK is referred to as "fancy dress"? Just a little factoid I learned as I was invited to my first fancy dress party! 

The Principal, Hover Board and Doc

When an invitation to a party being thrown by a friend's old flat-mate was extended to me, I happily accepted. I hadn't seen Back To The Future in ages, so I was a little concerned about what to wear... A lot of women peal off their clothes at the mere mention of fancy dress, but I lack the straight face required to successfully conduct myself in such a low-functioning manner. In fact, Biff was the character that first came to mind, but I couldn't find a buzz-cut wig. I then opted for the classic approach and channeled my inner Marty McFly Jr. Yep, my look was Michael J. Fox as Marty McFly.

Cross dressing is always fun, but remember that I don't know this crowd. A friend merely extended an invite to a person's birthday party who was unknown to me. Although I take a moment to remind you of my newcomer status, I did not take heed of this fact.

1. DRESS LIKE A GIRL

First impressions are important, so challenging gender boundaries is not the best way to make my acquaintance.

2. HAVE A BACK-UP PLAN
Upon arrival, I quickly saw that most people had brought along rucksacks with a change of cloths. I, on the other hand, was committed to my inner McFly by not bringing along a change of cloths. Whats more, I had a very spiky wig that was affixed to my head with hundreds of bobby pins. Plus, I hadn't washed my hair in a few days, so the 'do was a greasy, hot mess that definitely did not deserve exposure.

A model of the Clock Tower

3. OVERCOME EMBARRASSMENT
There were a lot of horrendous moments for me at this party: a gust of wind blew my wig off my head while on the patio, I hadn't ever even met the birthday boy, but had one of the more elaborate costumes, an hour into the party most people changed or took off the fancy part of their dress while I remained affixed to my look and upon arrival I inquired about the toilet because I wanted to check my teeth for pesto, but it was occupied. Someone overheard my inquiry so when the toilet was vacant they poked their head out onto the patio (where most of the party was assembled) and very loudly advised: Shelly, the toilet is free. Wasn't sure if you had an emergency before, but it's ready for you now.

What more can you say to that other than: Thanks.

Handheld Fondue

I like to think of myself as gastronomically inclined, but we all have our moments... Most recently, I was caught shoveling foot-in-mouth at a train station where I decided to get a sandwich for the journey ahead and packed it away as my meal for when the inevitable "are we there yet" point hit. Of course, being in the possession of food induced hunger immediately after I was sat on the train. When I opened my parcel I found a very messy sandwich with cheese slathered all over its exterior. 

Upon my messy discovery, a friend meeting me on the other end of my journey sent me a text to ensure that I successfully boarded the train. I shared my disappointment with her which prompted her to ask,

"Did the sandwich get tossed around in your bag?". No.

"Well, get something else." Most who know me would be aware that I was far too frugal to make purchases on transport vehicles.

Yuck, it was like a handheld fondue! Sticky, stringy cheese and creamy sauce oozing all over the place! I'm sure the guy sitting next to me was equally impressed. By the end of it, I had cheesy hands, a transparent layer of goop on my forehead and an overall feeling of crumbs and cheesy remnants scattered all over my being. That was pretty shit. And fairly quickly forgotten until...

Last week, I went to Toronto for a wedding. During the trip, I had brunch at a very unassuming, classic French Patisserie called, Pain Perdue. Here, while dining with friends, I noticed a much more up-market version of my handheld fondue.


And it was here that I was formally (properly) introduced to Parisian fast-food. Say hello to the Croque Monsieur.