It was my birthday yesterday. Two of my underemployed friends helped me celebrate at a lunch on the Danforth. Later we came back and enjoyed the warm breezes on my front veranda (hint - no ac at my house), while eating chocolate/carmel goddess/goldflecked cake from Altitude. Of course a bit of harmless bra modelling had to occur. I don't know if J had the stomach for it, what with the heat and quivering ha-has.

All in all it was a good day. I'm so prone to pitty potty hysterics on my birthday, that I try to take care every year to avoid an outbreak of the wah-wahs. So I bought the cake I wanted. My family called from across the country first thing in the morning, my Dad waking me up at 7am, even though he was awake at 5am in Calgary. Sister and niece sang me a happy birthday from Calgary, reminding me that I wouldn't be choking on the heat and humidity and having asthma attacks if I lived in the cool and dry foothills of the Rockies. My ex-husband came for a coffee first thing in the morning (and I modelled my coin gyrations). My pal and ex-assistant sent me a beootiful bouquet of flowers. Here I am modelling my massive prosperity and mirror covered bosom beside dz's beautiful flowers. And my Mum called from Montreal, my tante Monique left a message, and the outlook inbox was full. One of my best high-school friends called too, and with that I'm on a road trip to Montreal et environs tomorrow after bd class.

I'm not crazy about knitting in heat, and my output is way down. I did drop by NAKED SHEEP to replace the lost dps, and of course left with 2x more balls of eek "black" sock yarn. I thought I might do some heels and toes, to ground all the twinkles toes I'm covering. Before I get too out of control whiny about heat, it was put into perspective by a newspaper article this week; 58 days of "summer" per Toronto year. I guess they meant heat. Anyone can do 58 days, and with that I just make better plans for fan positioning, ice cold showers right before bed (to mimic the evening skinny dip at a lake that makes you drop into a deep sleep in spite of musty bedding), and fantasies of x-country skiing in Finland and long dark winter nights.

Apologies to diehard tribal dancers today. I'm totally into the ambassador of joy coin covered shimmy with a smile school of belly-dancing. Maybe one day I will be able to wear it with a smudged eyes, and a piercing and tat, mysterious and reverential to snake goddess culture. But for now I just love the sound and weight, and the bareness of it when I'm by myself. We all gotta start somewhere!