John Candy would've been proud
It was a trip of planes, trains and automobiles.
I travelled to Ottawa and Montreal last week on some official business: a job interview, a royal Air Canada f*%k up, an oka cheese pilgrimmage (thanks Holland!), and of course eating/drinking/dancing with old friends and new. I shared lunch with two friends-of-friends in Ottawa. It was a bit like going on a blind date but super fun nonetheless. Local knowledge and POV is much better than a guide book. I'll put up a more detailed post later. But for now some photos... 
The only flowers in Ottawa come March: the floor of the Chateau Laurier ball room.
A Montreal institution in the heart of downtown Ottawa. I clocked into the bilingual part of the country at 4:42 hours before I was chowing on smoked meat, kosher pickes and coleslaw. A record for sure.
St. Paddy's Day in Montreal: 10:30am before the epic 'dig the car out of the snow bank' game.
J'aime le metro avec l'arts de 1960s.
This ramp at the Ottawa train station reminded me ever so slightly of the Guggenheim.
l'hermitage
I have a good case of the hermits this weekend. As in I want to do stay in, in, in. I'm saving myself for next weekend. Spring is here and I'm getting the itch. I'm super lucky to venture for a mini-vac to scratch it next weekend in Ottawa/Montreal (Simon's look out!).
So some of you are looking for different updates on la vida loca de Miranda. Not so loco I'm afraid.
My friends the McCue-lums (Mel &Jamie) and their wee Molly were in town last week. Molly is the cutest and can store large amounts of yoghurt in her cheeks as you can see here. 
Have I mentioned that I'm off the booze for 40 days and nights? Once a year I resemble some sort of Catholic and like to give something up for lent. This year it's wheat and booze. The booze program is way easier than wheat. I crave burgers and fluffy pancakes way more than a glass of shiraz. I've forfeited glasses of Moet for a bite or two of tiramisu. That's why i gave up two things - I knew/hoped I'd steer clear of at least one vice.
Despite the sobriety, I considered kidnapping the lead singer of Rascal Flatts for Mel K last weekend. After work last Saturday night I drove to East Van to a house party and drove by at least 8 tour buses and 5 big rigs for equipment all belonging to Rascal Flatts. (That band alone is responsible for the hole in the ozone hole forming over the Patagonia or hurricane Debbie. I hope they're doing some sort of carbon-off set by sponsoring some sort of eco-country guitar camp in Ethiopia). I considered stopping, seducing a roadie and then nabbing the lead singer or the drummer for Mel. And then I shook my head, stopped rubber necking and continued to drive. Mel, I loveya but I just couldn't bat my eyes or flash some of my fab bosom so that you could make out with a 'new country' star with frosted tips.
I've found a new televised addiction. HBO's "The Wire". I've been looking for a tv series to latch on to and boy this is it. It has everything: Baltimore, drugs, hot black men, big SUVs, drunken cops and lesbian dectectives. What more could you want from a cop drama? Check it out if you can. My favourite character so far is Omar, the vigilante-gay-crack-dealer who's lover is shot, mutliated and displayed in his opponent's territory. Now this is good television America. I had no idea Maryland was so liberal.
Some movie reviews for the last two weeks:
Daddy's little girls - pro: Idris Elba con: add-cliche-and-stir script The lives of others - pro: the main character, super spy Weissler bucks German stereotypes. Con: some pale pale wintery nudity
Shut up and sing - Pro: Natalie Maines staring at the camera "You're fucking stupid" referring to Dubya Con: none, except if you count the $14 I'm about to spend on their album because I luuurv them now.
