Moving Forward with my Twenty-something Posse Bowling for Columbine I finally had a real weekend. No work. No thinking about work. Just 48 hours to do whatever I wanted. Friday started off well, with a viewing of Bowling for Columbine, Michael Moore’s erratic and brilliant documentary on guns in America. He presented a rather surprising statistic: there are as many guns per capita as the United States, yet we don’t experience anywhere near the same homicide rate. What’s up with that? He suggests that it has something to do with our social security net. Detractors of this film say that it lacks focus and is somewhat facile. Given the enormity of the issue, if nothing else, I think he asks the right questions. If Moore is right, and I think he is, and our security resides with our social policies, then please join me as I protest against the Mario Dumont’s of this world who propose changes to our health care system and a ridiculous reduction in tax rates. I can afford private health care and I could buy a yacht if my income was only taxed at 20%. However, he’s simply proposing a society in which I simply wouldn’t want to live. Make the rich pay, indeed. Nantha’s Kitchen, Part Deux I saw this film with a twenty-something colleague from work and two of his twenty-something friends visiting from Toronto. After the film we split up and I met more friends at the new microbrewery in Nantha’s Kitchen space. They’ve done a great job with the décor. And there are more bathrooms. The Amber beer could do with a touch more head, the Stout with a bit more oomph. But, for $4.75 a pint, you can’t go wrong. I’m sorry, but I don’t recall the name of the brew pub. Saturday Night’s All Right for Cupcakes The next day was my friend H’s birthday party. I made chocolate cupcakes with my mother’s famed mocha icing. The recipe comes from the first recipe book she ever bought when my parents moved to Canada and the first my mom gave me when I moved out: the Canadian classic Kate Aitken’s Cook Book. The cupcakes were a hit and I was in a fine, party mood. My twenty-something posse was there, too, and we split for Else’s at around 1:00 a.m. The Five Second Rule It’s interesting hanging with people who are so much younger than you, particularly if they’re flirting with you. Pretty much all week, my twenty-something colleague had been making comments to me about “being with an older woman” and whether, as my palm was being read by our receptionist (see previous blog), there was any foretelling of a tall, good-looking younger man about to enter my life. The best part during our drinking fest at Else’s was when I described the five-second rule: if you’re trying to show someone you’re interested in them, hold their gaze for at least five seconds. Well, after that, my colleague and his twenty-something friends all seemed to be attempting to hold my gaze for at least that. All good fun, in a strange kind of way. It got rather awkward when we started to talk about age and beauty (but, not truth—that would have been too eerily Socratic). I tried to remain politically correct by announcing that youth and beauty weren’t necessarily synonymous. But who can deny the exquisiteness of glowing, unlined skin and lanky bodies? And the attentions of three good-looking young men who could be my sons—if I had become pregnant just barely out of high school. Moving Forward Today I took a test that was supposed to reveal my worst fear. Apparently, I fear “moving forward”. Dear readers, you’ve been privy to quite a bit about me—issues with “aging” and trysts in Else’s washroom--and I wonder if you’ll concur with me as I come to the conclusion that it’s time for me to move forward, grow up and find…someone old enough to be my father to date.