May 16 14

The thing about living in the Toronto nosebleeds is that I don’t even technically live in Toronto (it’s the city above Toronto, the city of Vaughan—there’s even a januty tune). I live in suburbia, a pleasantville of sorts, where grass, family-style restaurants, mediocre malls, and parking are aplenty. I work in suburbia, inside my relatively affordable suburban home.

But hot damn if I’m not downtown all the time. This week I was downtown three times, and while I admit that it’s always for good reasons — auditions, taking Emily to crash her bff gets all Sebeastian-y at her Little Mermaid dress rehearsal, and dinner and a show with good friends, even though exactly one half of us left the show halfway through because The Last Confession was giving me The Last Nap — it’s exhausting.

samara-little mermaid

 

{Shaky picture is due to tears. Yes, I get visibly emotional when children do incredible things. Even children who are not my own. I’m KRISTEN BELL WITH THE SLOTH, you guys}

Although I might have solved my Walking Dead problem, since I always pull into my driveway after my anywhere between 45-minute and 2-hour drive and collapse on my bed and pass out like the dead.

Even last night, after having a large fully caffeinated coffee at 9:30pm—which felt, at the time, like a better choice than snoring through the play. It’s amazing that I’m capable of raising three good students and citizens, and yet simple life choices are difficult for me.

Case in point: yesterday’s lunch.

art

Better case in point: I do not own an umbrella. 

I’m going to be 36 years old on Thursday and I do not own an umbrella.

And, the lovely thing about Toronto (and the city above Toronto, the city of Vaughan) is that we went straight from snow, snow, snow, snow to rain, rain, rain, rain, and more rain. Which I can tell you as a photographer and, well, as a human, is actually not at all lovely. Every day the forecast is rain. And when the forecast doesn’t call for rain the forecast is a giant lie because it rains. So, of course, I drove downtown once this week and got caught in a cats-and-dogs-like storm, complete with actual puddles inside of my flats and a rather drowned-rat-like look. Also, wet skinny jeans.

rainstorm

 

So, one would think that for my drive downtown the very next day, I would have learned.

One would think.

But one would be wrong.

And so last night, at The Last Confession, I was The Last Sheepdog. My bangs, you guys.

BANGS AND RAIN.

BANGS AND RAIN. 

It’ll probably be the title of my memoir.

And the fact that I woke up this morning with that awesome someone is stabbing my throat with knives feeling really doesn’t help my case in the never-ending fight with my mom that NO, you can’t catch a death of cold from going out with wet hair. That’s just not how science works—AND YET HERE I AM. {Ouch}

Going out to buy some cold medicine today.

And maybe an umbrella. 

If I remember. 

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  1. I have THREE umbrellas, but I never seem to have them WITH me when it rains. I am also excelling at being grown up.

    [Reply]

    Comment by Jen on May 16, 2014
  2. I have two umbrellas in my possession. One of them even made a trip to England with me!
    … Neither of them has ever been opened outside in the rain.

    [Reply]

    Comment by Shannon on May 16, 2014
  3. I have one I keep in my work bag at all times. The other travel-sized one stays in my purse. Because of this happening to me too many times. This is because I am a grown up because I’m 36 1/2. :)

    [Reply]

    ali replied on

    So, you’re saying that I have half a year to grow up then?
    haaaaa.

    [Reply]

    Kristabella replied on

    More like 8 months.

    [Reply]

    Comment by Kristabella on May 16, 2014
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