I got to meet a couple of people I’d only ever chatted with online with last night. Yay!
I received compliments on my red shoes. More yay!
Why are people so amazed that I actually screamed onstage, and more than once? It was in the script, after all…
(Overheard: “Has she been on stage before?” I laughed, and laughed, and laughed.)
As HRH and I were driving home at midnight, I had the oddest craving for Lafleur’s poutine, and I was totally mystified as to why I was craving something that I haven’t had in years. About four minutes from home I finally said out loud, “I have a really odd craving for Lafleur’s poutine, and I have no idea why.” I heard the words as I said them, and suddenly I knew exactly why: t! and I used to stop by Lafleur’s after an evening rehearsal once every week, because we’d be very awake and ravenous after working for two and a half hours. I’d order poutine, he’d order a Michigan, and we’d sit and talk.
“Would you like a poutine?” said HRH.
I almost brushed it off with a laugh, but then I paused and thought about it. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I think I do.”
“Then we will go to Lafleur’s and get you a poutine,” said HRH, and so we drove to the Lafleur’s just around the corner, and he bought me a poutine. I brought it home, washed up and changed, curled up in bed and ate it, ate every single bit of it. The gravy was a bit too peppery, but the nostalgia tasted wonderful.