Days 26 & 27, Sat-Sun, February 23-24th, 2013

The most important thing that happened this weekend was that, by way of a visit by my friend Ben and his fiancee Jess (also my friend), I acquired smoked almonds from a shop on Granville Island, in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. These things are friggin' delicious. You don't even know.

I kid.

No, far and away, the most important part was the visit. I went out for supper and drinks (I am being allowed portions of alcohol, as I am long since finished getting staged, and still at least a week away from anything directly related to the transplant) with Ben and Jess on Saturday night, and we went out for breakfast on Sunday morning. Note the use of "I" as opposed to "we." Mom stayed home, and I think she was as glad for some time apart as I was. As much as I love my mother and have actually been pleasantly surprised by how well we're getting along, we have been in each other's space, with very little in the way of breaks, for almost a month. We have highly divergent tastes in music (and other media), and, while we're both adults, I am thirty-one, and she is ...older than that (a gentlemen never tells a lady's age); we have different cultural references, spiritual beliefs, political leanings, and styles of humour. We occasionally need a little bit of distance. It was nice to talk to friends, it was nice to talk to peers, and it was nice to just be a grown man without my mother looking over my shoulder.

They arrived a little after eight thirty, having left after Jess finished her veterinary duties for the day; Jess is a vet and Ben is an engineer. It was also Ben's birthday (which I hadn't been aware of until that morning), so I got him a cupcake. After setting Mom up with my laptop, so that she could watch Grey's, I left with Ben and Jess to get them checked into their hotel, the Mariott, just around the corner. I took them for burgers at the Lunchbox Laboratory (yes, again, those things are delicious and the two of them can get seafood anytime, they live on The Sunshine Coast), we went for drinks at Paddy Coyne's, where I ordered the birthday boy a lovely shot, called a Rocky Mountain Bear Fucker.

The recipe for the Rocky Mountain Bear Fucker varies, but most commonly comes in a 2 oz shot glass and includes:

- 2/3 oz Jack daniels

- 2/3 oz tequila

- 2/3 oz 151 rum

The shot ends up being a little over fifty percent alcohol, tastes terrible, and is reserved for special occasions such as birthdays, bachelor parties, bar mitzvahs, and first communions. It is also very fun to order, as it often confuses waitresses, who are generally not quite sure that they heard you correctly.

The more you know.

Our server from the Lunchbox (and the one from the night before, and their coworkers) also ended up at Paddy's, and we shot the proverbial shit for a little while. Nice fellow. Can't remember his name. Riesling, I think, like the wine.

I got home about one.

The next morning, we went to Le Cafe Campagne, and it was, if possible, better than I remembered it being (their Bloody Marys are fantastic, if you're ever in the mood). I often forget, for some reason, that Ben is actually a fairly accomplished chef; he particularly enjoyed the proper French cuisine.

They dropped me off at the SCCA House and began the trip back home, but not before leaving me with not one, but two bags of the aforementioned smoked almonds.

Happy.

Also, when I say, "I took them out," what I mean is that I attempted to take them out, but was not actually allowed to pay for anything, Ben actually going as far as stealing my wallet at one point. He bought his own Rocky Mountain Bear Fucker.

Werner Heisenberg is out for a drive, when he is pulled over by a traffic officer. The officer says, "Do you have any idea how fast you were going?" And Heisenberg says, "No, but I know where I am."

.....

Alternatively:

What do you call a cow with two legs? Lean beef.