I'm in a tough spot. I've been invited to a kind of Last Get-together by this couple I know who are moving to Calgary. I was really touched by the invitation, because they said that it would mean a lot if I were there. The thing is, I know it's going to be a heavy drinking, lots of eating kind of night, and I don't know if I have the strength to withstand it. And I really, really need to find it within me. This is not a time in my recently renewed nazi-diet regime where I can cheat a little here and there. I've got the ball rolling, the control momentum is flowing... and that party could make a serious dent in it if I'm not careful.
Any advice you want to give is more than welcome. Molto grazie.
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I'm going to see Searson play tomorrow night, an event which has got me into quite the tizzy. They're an Irish-Canadian family band that I saw in Montreal while I was there last summer, and they're an absolute treat to watch. Really, I couldn't get enough of them. Four gorgeous, fresh and sparkling Irish girls - three sisters and a friend - and the sisters' father. They fiddle, and stepdance, and sing and play the... oh Lord... it's a drum type thing... and you pronounce it bow-ron... but it's got this Gaelic spelling with a lot of unnecessary H's and D's and A's... anyone who knows what I'm talking about, feel free to educate me. But anyway, the band is just fabulous. They really get the crowd hopping, and I'm just thrilled that they made it to Toronto. Whee!
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The beast is still awake. I'm getting ready to leap upon some unsuspecting male. Is that bad?
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The arrangements for the London Summer '98 reunion have really come together in the last few days. I managed to get a group discount for the hotel we're staying in, and people have started to book already. Bette Parker and I have a room from the 25th to the 27th of July, so that's taken care of. All I have to do now is book the train, and wait for summer to come. It'll be so great to get together as a group again. We formed such a bond during that English summer - it was magical, really. Five years have gone by, and I wonder if much of the magic has worn off?
Is it very bad of me to relish the thought of their faces when they see my much-diminished body for the first time? Oh I know. It's a little (read: lot) vain. Especially since I know that in one or two cases, a larger, older, perhaps balder person came up and ate the handsome youngster we all once knew... ooh, bad Mare! Tsk!
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Oh, look! An unsuspecting male!
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Off I go, poppets. Have a lovely day!