Ottawa

Last weekend I went to Ottawa because I felt it just wasn't quite cold enough in Toronto. In truth, Monkey needed a present for Secret Santa at work. Just in case you didn't grasp the absurdity of that previous statement let me elaborate.

At Monkey's work they play a variation of Secret Santa called Thieving Secret Santa where each player brings one generic gift. The first player unwraps a gift, the next player can then either steal that gift or unwrap a new one. Each player in succession then has the same choice, either steal an opened gift or unwrap a new one. I don't really know how long it goes or how it finally gets decided who ends up with what but the gist of it is that we drove 4.5 hours each way so some clown that Monkey may not even know that well can get a gift where the giver is kept secret.

I think my version of Secret Santa is better, where someone dressed as Santa tells you a horrible secret about your life:

"Your wife is having an affair. Ho, ho, ho."
"Your son is a heroin addict. Merry Christmas."
"They call your daughter Porsche because she's a sweet ride. Top up your eggnog?"

Monkey's idea was to go to a craft show to find something unique for this stranger. I think I've mentioned before how I feel about craft shows, sorry artisan shows; too many women who look like birds and too many men with greasy ponytails. The one saving grace is that the food booths give lots of free samples.

"Would you like to try a chocolate covered blueberry?"
"No, I'm just here to admire the adorable handpainted sign that reads 'God Bless This Mess'. Give me all the blueberries you got."

There was one photographer there who I liked.

Me: Do you have a business card?
Him: Yes (long pause while he in no way looks like he is trying to find a business card.)
Him: Was there anything in particular you wanted to know?
Me: No.
Him: What did you want the business card for then?
Me: Because I have some food stuck in my teeth. Do you have a website?
Him: Yes (another long pause. Finally writes out the website address on a piece of scrap paper.)

Now why wouldn't you just say, "I don't have a business card but I can write out my details for you." Or perhaps he did have amazing business cards but would only disburse them to people who had a damn good reason for wanting one.

While in Ottawa we went to the National Gallery. Technically only I went into the gallery while Monkey spent her time in the gift shop. It was a great gift shop though and she managed to find a really nice doodad for Secret Santa.