canada day, a tradition

Strawberry picking and Baranga's, always.

* * *

This was the first time that I've ever had an emotional connection with fireworks.

* * *

From downtown, we went to Mackenzie's for an hour or two. By then, we had missed out on Slang Scrabble; a newly invented edition of the game. Scrabble's like Monopoly; there's four hundred versions of each, and counting. Allegedly, the rules of the game were to form words and/or phrases, words that you make up, alongside the meaning for that word. For example, a "Haaaadoe," I think it was, is when you laugh and quickly realize that what you're laughing at is dumb, so you're embarrassed, hence the "doh" sounding grunt.

We made this instead:

Steph cut her bangs. Steph's bangs look good:

Jill was afraid this photo would look them look lesbotic, but you decide:

At large, my black raspberry tea was good. And the (vigorous amount of) coincidences throughout the evening was just pure entertainment. I'm starting to question concepts more intently such as destiny, esp. while reading Time Traveler's.

A nice, memorable Canada Day, so thank you.

Oh and,