Yesterday, Jon got his Canadian permanent residency card. I was working from his apartment so I was there to see it arrive in the mail: clean, shiny, and glued pristinely into his passport–cute little mugshot and all. He also got his Ontario driver’s license at the same time, completely by coincidence (That picture? Not so cute). We took a break from our respective responsibilities to celebrate with a quick lunch of udon noodles at a new sushi spot on College, followed by chocolate walnut cookies and coffees from Wanda’s Pie in the Sky . Then, back to his apartment on Augusta, where we retreated to our respective MacBook hideaways.
After a long day’s work–which included writing my inaugural blog post–I needed to do something physical. Yesterday was the first really crisp day in awhile, so I decided I’d treat myself to a hot yoga class. Over the summer, I bought myself a Passport to Prana , which is essentially a $30 gift card that entitles you to one visit at each of over 50 studios in and around the city. I’d already used up most of the visits within my immediate stomping grounds, but a quick scan of the Passport website revealed that a hot pilates/yoga fusion class was only a half-hour’s walk away, so I figured I’d make the trek. The class was a little less vigorous than I would have liked ( Core Studio’s Friday night fusion, with its glute-grinding squats and toning ball torture, was more of what I had in mind), but my abs are pleasantly sore today so at least the hour was worth something. I did impress myself with some pretty solid side planks (a newer pose in my yoga arsenal since the Moksha series doesn’t include it), so at least my yoga practice isn’t completely going down the shitter despite my recent neglect.
Being the stellar multi-tasker that I am, I chatted up my folks in Milwaukee on the walk home, then made my way to Jon’s. We packed up a bottle of wine (discreetly emptied into a Mason jar, natch), picked up some Smartfood, and motored down to the eastern beaches to watch the Leonid meteor shower. We found ourselves a nice little dock and reclined on it as we stared, like stoned high schoolers, into the horizon. We each saw five or six good meteors and plenty of smaller ones, which isn’t at all bad for a cheap date.
The view from Mt. Fuji: the Leonid meteor shower in 2001
Today, it was back to the office and down to business, followed by a thoroughly intense choir practice. I’m fully knackered!