It's still haa .... (see my last entry if that doesn't make sense). So haa ....

Yesterday, Shanny and I hung at her new pad, on the deck until we couldn't stand the heat any more, and then in the living room, with the fan blaring. I went home at 10 with a heat head-ache and watched a dumb movie for a while and then went to bed to lie naked in front of the fan. I'm sure it's nothing in comparrison to the heat and humidity that our southern neighbors endure, but we Canadians aren't used to much heat, and complain easily (although you'll also notice we complain about the cold, so maybe we're just complainers).

Today, I happily slept until noon, and then went shopping with Miss Shanny (T has now coined her "Shannanigans" - fitting). We both spent far more money than we actually have to spend, with joyful disregard for our budgets. I bought 2 pairs of jeans, 2 pairs of capri pants, a skirt, expensive french hand-cream, perfume, 4 wine glasses, new pillow cases, fabulous smelling soap, powder and 2 new MAC lipsticks (Jest and Sandy B, for you MAC lovers). All thanks to a new Capital One credit card the bank so stupidly sent me (yeah, send the recently unemployed girl a new credit card - woo hoo).

We then retired to my place, working very hard not to think about how much money we had just spent, and had a couple of afternoon cocktails in the heat. Just to take off the edge, don't you know. Which, of course, turned into a couple of evening cocktails. But oh so much fabulous conversation. T came home from his band rehearsal and we sat around talking music and art and love. I carried on at length, sadly, about the 2 new projects that have captivated my imagination: a production (hopefully in the spring) of Marat/Sade that's all about both the French revolution and where we are today, with the looming threat of modern revolution; and writing a play based on the story of Angela Peralta, the Mexican opera singer who died the night before her big homecoming concert in Mazatlan. It's one of the most romantic and tragic stories I've ever heard, and I'm sure I'd have to get a grant to go to Mazatlan to research it, and how cool would that be.

Anyhow, it's one of the few really wonderful bi-products of my getting fired - the freedom of my creative imagination. I'm no longer strapped to the tiny peramiters (how the $#%$@ do you spell that?) of my lunchtime theatre gig. All I have to do is figure out how to raise the money and I can do any kind of theatre I want. Okay, raising the money ain't so easy, but ....

Tomorrow it's lunch with my mom, the gym, and then much festival work, as there's only a month left and the job keeps getting bigger instead of smaller (the Premier has now decided he wants to be here for the Centennial celebrations, instead of ... oh, anywhere else in the province ... and the pressure is on to make it "right" for his glorious dopeness). So, sleep is in order to get all the crap done.