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Dirty Martini

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Days 119-121 are a bit of a blur, due to some of the brave new things I've done, the first being to learn the meaning of the term "a dirty martini". Had the hotel switchboard wake me up at 5am on the day of the royal wedding, which I watched with the handsome young waiter who brought me my eggs benedict at the crucial moment. He asked me to let him know the moment the couple was actually married, since he was unfamiliar with certain customs.


Lost my Gretel Ehrlich book on the train home, but luckily am the proud new owner of a whopping great Amazon gift certificate so will be able to replace it. Was bleary-eyed when I finally got to my first panel at Montreal's Blue Met, and am afraid I disgraced myself by admitting my greatest literary influence while growing up was the cereal box. Today's panel went a little more gracefully, with someone coming up to me afterwards and telling me I actually made sense. This felt good. Dear One and I went for dinner in Chinatown and something - delirium, probably - possessed me to suggest going to two restaurants instead of one, starting with dumplings and ending with a fortune cookie that said I like everything to be perfect. This has always been one of my problems. Now to catch up on some sleep.
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