My amazing city and it's amazing inhabitants

Last night marked the start of my seventh Toronto International Film Festival (a.k.a. TIFF) experience. For all its drawbacks (and trust me, there are many) the real film fans keep coming back year after year, price hike after price hike, because simply put, we love movies and the festival gives us what we want: world premieres, foreign gems, thought-provoking documentaries, and as was the case last night at Midnight Madness, kick-ass action films where Samuel L. Jackson is the POTUS. 'Nuff said.

Last night, however, had the potential for some major suckage. It did not simply rain - it poured for several hours. For the roughly two hours I was standing outside the Ryerson theatre the deluge did not relent - a cruel joke on the TIFF faithful by the weather gods. But note that I said it "had the potential." As I sat cowering under a very damp jean jacket debating with one of the TIFF volunteers whether or not to just bite the bullet and go home, a lovely woman asked me if I wanted to use her umbrella. She had a rain poncho in her purse and said she could use it instead. For the next 90 minutes or so I was able to mitigate the damage and engage in some lovely conversation with J and her friend, A.

Next I was going to type" faith in humanity restored" but that's a lie. This is exactly the type of generosity I've come to expect from the people of Toronto, and it's the kind of thing that's happened to me repeatedly since my return.

So let's get this straight: on the whole, Torontonians are really amazing people who step up at the worst of times to help each other out. We're not perfect, but we do really damn good things when given the opportunity.

I realize this flies in the face a little of the whole customer service post that precedes this one, and that's ok. Random acts of kindness really isn't in the same category imho.

After the movie was over, I grabbed a cab to get back to my car. It was still raining and I was really stiff so it took me a minute to climb into the back seat. I asked the driver if he would take a credit card? "Yes," he beamed. I couldn't tell why he was so delighted by my question, but once I was seated and the cab was in motion he launched in:

"You were polite to ask me if I would take charge card. The woman before you threw it at me. I tell her "I don't take" because I want to teach her lesson. You are nice woman."

We chatted a little more and I told him about the kind gesture of J lending me her umbrella. I learned he was an immigrant from Pakistan - a Muslim who had come to Toronto nine years ago.

"I go to JFK and they treat me like garbage... like I am a terrorist... like every Muslim is a terrorist. I come to Toronto and you know what they say? They say 'Welcome to Canada' and 'Welcome to Toronto'. This is my home. This girl who gives you an umbrella is nice. I love my home."

Why I like to cross border shop

Let it be known far and wide that I am someone who enjoys going to the U.S. to shop. I'll go over for a single day, or as was the case this weekend, several days at a time to buy clothing, shoes, and we can't forget the all-important trip to the grocery store. I am a fan of Niagara Falls and Buffalo for many reasons - the prices and deals, the selection... but the one I want to focus on right now is the exceptional level of customer service. Yes, that's right shop staff of Canada: the men and women working in the retail shops of western New York are friendlier and more helpful than you are.

There are days when I don't need or want a salesperson who is glued to my side, but when I have a question that needs answering, I want to be able to find someone to ask in relatively short order. When trying on clothing it's ideal to have someone check in on you to see if you need additional sizes, etc. If I can't find what I am looking for it's really nice to have someone to offer to help me locate said item. These are all examples of the kind of service I got on my weekend shopping trip.

Here in Toronto, I can walk into a 10-thousand square foot store and fire a cannon down an aisle without hitting a salesperson. I went into a clothing store recently (that shall remain unnamed) and the woman behind the register looked up her from phone and said hello. She then immediately returned to her phone to do whatever it was she was doing. That was the only time we spoke and I was in the store for 10 minutes.

But I digress. As this blog is clearly about things I like, let's keep the focus on the positive!

Thank you, Tim Hortons drive-thru lady, for asking me if I wanted 2% or skim milk. I had no idea until now that I had a choice. Thank you, Lane Bryant salespeople, for being attentive without being overbearing. Thank you, young guy working at Journeys, for offering to call several stores - even stores in Canada - to help me find the right size of shoes. Thank you, desk staff at the Holiday Inn, for giving me a crapload of extra shampoos because I said I liked how they smelled. And thank you, woman behind the cash at PetCo, just for being so friendly and nice.

Stuff I Like: Farmers' Markets

I think it's possible that in another life I lived on a farm. I love farm animals. I enjoy growing my own vegetables. Hell, I'm not even bothered by the smell of cow manure. Yes, I love farmers and I love how hard they work to put GOOD food on the table for all of us.

In an ideal world, we'd go to the grocery store and we'd see the farmer's face on each product we bought. We'd know when it was picked and where it was grown. Sadly, the grocery store isn't the place for farm-to-table. The farmer's market however... now there we're just a little closer to the field.

I have two go-to markets. The Sherway Gardens market on Fridays is good. In addition to the produce stands they have a nice bakery stand that sells really nummy sausage rolls. My number one market however is the Saturday market at the Etobicoke Civic Centre (formerly city hall). Great produce stands, the Mennonite family that makes the fresh apple fritters, the fresh flower guys, the farm-fresh eggs, the honey dude and the family-run meat stand where I get the most delicious bacon and breakfast sausage. Oh, and I almost forgot Ralph. Ralph is a tall, burly man with white hair, a goatee and a loud voice. He's part huckster and all joker. Ralph will not only tell you where your strawberries were grown, he'll tell you who picked them, where they live, and their height, age and weight. I exaggerate, but Ralph knows how to sell some produce, and charm the pants off (figuratively) some women.

The month of August is also my favourite time to go to the farmer's market because they have two of my very favourite things: peaches and sweet corn. Peaches are a baker's dream. There is nothing like a fresh peach pie or cobbler with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. And corn? Shut the front door! Grilled on the bbq with lots of butter and salt? Have mercy! (Check out the farmer girl photobombing my corn shot!)

So the stuff I like today is the farmer's market, and the fresh, delicious food I buy there. HUG A FARMER!

Looking for happy

In the last year or so I've become acquainted with quite a few bloggers. The people I refer to are hardcore writers for whom blogging isn't just some passing fancy. It's something they work at, and quite frankly, it's something a number of them are making money doing.

Money certainly is not the motivation for this blog, but having said that, should some Hollywood-type read it and get the grand idea to write a script about my life I would hardly look that gift horse in the mouth...

No, the motivation for this is something of an exercise in self-motivation, or better still, searching for my inner-happy. You see, I've lost it. Some might suggest I never had it - that I've never been a really happy person and that I'm more of a clown who puts on a good front but is really a miserable fuck underneath it all. Oh sure, I can do miserable. I've got miserable down. In fact I'm fairly certain that at 41 and 11/12ths I've already yelled at a few kids to get out of my yard. It's happy that I need a little work on. Scratch that. A lot of work.

There are certain inherent truths about me that will never change. My glass will likely always be half-empty, and a little rain cloud may follow me around like ol' Eeyore, but that doesn't mean there isn't room for anything else. I can play against type. "Stuff I Like" will hopefully serve as an affirmation of all that's good, funny and decadent. This will be a forum for me to share things that make me laugh, smile and say "Yum!" There is good in the world - some days you just need to work a little harder at finding it.

So I hope you'll stick around for this grand experiment, and I hope you'll share it with others. A blog without readers is kind of like a burger without melty cheese: sure it exists, but it isn't half as good. I really like cheese.