a day of rest

I don't know about you, but even weekends that look so promisingly empty on the calendar have a way of filling up. Friday morning chaperoning Stella's nursery school to Bowlerama. I should have brought nail polish and painted my toes: they surely would have dried in the time it took for the ball to roll down the lane and brush past the pins with all the force of a feather. Still, fun. And I never tire of observing the social lives of five year olds.



Dinner Friday night at Frank's, our favourite pizzeria in our old 'hood. We lived briefly - and unhappily - at Dufferin and St. Clair in a teeny-tiny ramshackle semi bought right after we were married. We never really felt at home in the neighbourhood or the house (hence the move to Etobicoke eight months later) but we still come back for two things: pizza with pesto, goat cheese and cremini mushrooms and the capucino at Tricolore, where the regulars look at you with suspicion for ordering a breakfast drink in the evening.



As it turns out, it was the annual street festa so perpetually crazy, chaotic St. Clair was blissfully turned over to pedestrians and we could enjoy our passegiata without the usual serenade of souped-up Honda Civics. I love how the neighbourhood is changing. It was good to see new rubbing elbows with the old timers.






Saturday, a barbeque with friends. A parade of princesses.





Sunday, a kid-free walk in the rain and visit to the outside art show at Nathan Phillip's square. Where I loved Franco DeFrancesca's work and these paintings in Farsi of verses by Rumi (You are in love with me. I shall make you perplexed.) that look like they're piped in icing:



Where I had my heart set on this lovely and amazing piece by Chris Langstroth (I am coming back for you!)


But in the end we decided on this cool bronze and steel panel by Beamsville artist Floyd Elzinger which is now hanging quite happily outside the living room as if it always lived there: