Epitome

After a stellar Continental breakfast at our hotel the valet brought the car around.  Yeah, I just said that.  I don't believe I've ever used a valet before and it was uncomfortable because I was wearing 4 year old cords from the GAP and an indie t-shirt with a bicycle on it and I have a hard time with the concept that someone parks and retrieves cars for other people. 
He brings around my 1999 Civic with the crack in the windshield that hasn't been washed in months that has parking receipts and crap scattered throughout it and Michael and I fight over who is to tip him and I tell Michael he has to do it because he's going to drive so the valet will be giving the keys to him and that I don't want to emasculate him by tipping him when society says it's totally the man's job to do that and Michael really didn't care about emasculation: he just really didn't want to slip this guy $5 but he did.
And then everyone got weird.  And we all looked at one another.  And the valet tried to open the passenger door for me but he hadn't unlocked it from the driver's side and so Michael went "bee boop" and pretended to remotely unlock the door and then the valet asked us if we wanted apples or water or needed directions because we were clearly in over our heads and so we got really dead simple instructions to our next destination: Sidney.
Sidney was beautiful.  It was just a totally stellar, sunny day and the exposure there was great.  A beautiful little town right on the water.  It's probably hectic with tourists in the summer and I'd actually like to stay there to see how bad it is, but man?  Michael and I would like to move there.  The view was incredible.  They have a huge long boardwalk along the water and lots of restaurants and cafes and bakeries.
We grabbed a coffee and muffin there and we were starting to reach a little, starting to look inwards, starting to allow the fact that we were heading for the ferry, that we had to work the next day sink in.  Neither of us like our jobs.  Both of us travel well and have a lot of fun out of the office.  The thing with, say, running the Chicago marathon and traversing the city and then flying to Montreal and traipsing all over that place before hopping on a train to Ottawa to take in some of the most magnificent art in the world, is that you have to go back to riding a desk and doing really mundane things for a pay cheque. 

You did what for how many cookies? 
Exactly.
Anyways, we did catch the ferry we wanted and we eventually landed back on the Shore and parted ways though we both wanted it to go on forever.
We came back to some sad news - the worst news, really - which put a damper on everything.
It's hard to blog about having fun in life when people you love are suffering.
It's hard to understand why the ball bounces a certain way: why some people skate through life unscathed and others, that try hard and deserve so much, are dealt such raw, unfair hands.
There's nothing that can be said when these random tragedies strike.  You just have to be there.  And give everything you can. 
And be thankful for everything that you have.
I'm glad I met you, little Monkey.