jupiter

Of all the sounds in the world, there are none that bring me as much comfort as a strong windstorm through the cedars at home. I'm sure I've written about it before - lying in my bed as a child, listening to the branches sweeping and swaying. Often, the wind is so powerful I wake up and find the street littered with needles or limbs or full branches. Mom reminds me the entire area used to be a forest before they began building. Our home was the 2nd in the area, next to the show home. I guess they decided it would be a selling feature to keep some of the monster trees in the backyard. The sort with trunks that last 60 or 70ft before the branches even begin. The sort that may have been beautiful in a thick forest, but aren't so splendid when they're more alone... it seems at least one somewhere in the neighbourhood goes down every year, sometimes via chainsaw, sometimes via the wind. When the latter happens, it ain't so much fun.

Luckily we've never had any come down in our yard. I used to stay awake worrying that if i went to sleep, I'd be awoken by a loud crash and a thick blanket of green. These days I sleep in the basement, so I don't even hear the trees anymore. However, last night I was reminded how much I love them. My take home chef and I prepared dinner, watched some comedy on the tele, and headed to the back deck so I could show off dads handywork, while getting some fresh air. And how fresh it was. If I didn't know better, I'd think it were a September night.. mild air, turbulent winds, a relatively clear sky. I leaned against a railing pillar, lifted my face to the sky, and soaked it all in. The lamp on the wall outlined his silhouette, and I smiled, watching and listening intently. To what? to both. To everything. To nothing, it didn't matter. To his little impromptu show. To the dramatic backdrop. To the voice in my head. It was just another moment in a series of moments that have made this a season to remember.

A few days ago I had the most fun I've had in months, if not years. I was on, what else can I say. I picked him up and we headed downtown to catch the final improv show at the Jupiter on Davie. It was singles night. As I paid our cover, they didn't ask if we wanted numbers. Besides, I already had 42 embroidered on my shirt. 42. The number I finally understand. We grabbed some seats up front, greeted his friends when they arrived, and cuddled up, laughing, applauding, and smiling the whole night. When it was over, was when I began. I love improv people.. they get me. No matter what I say, they laugh, and they return the favour. We walked down to Robson to catch some food at one of the restaurants. In between cracking jokes and putting on voices, I gave my cheek muscles a good smile work out, which continued on through dinner. The people knew how to have fun. Good clean fun - no new age fun at someone's expense, nothing overly offensive, yet nothing safe. 'Twas plain old cleverly witty fun, complete with tropical chimpanzee titties (as opposed to the british monarch variety).

I forgot I could be this outgoing. I had my moments in high school, and every now and then around my close friends, but in public in the company of a number of people I'd never met before that night, I couldn't have predicted it. As far as I can tell, my best guess is it helps to have a private cheerleader. Someone to impress, who will be impressed no matter if I succeed or fail. It was safe, so I ventured outside of my comfort zone, and I was rewarded for it. He joins the improv group next week. I'm sure he'll try a few more times to get me to join, but I'm just fine with catching the show each week; maybe yelling out suggestions now and then. Besides, I'm perfectly content as arm candy, even if the arm is in the spotlight.

Like I said, 2008 will be a great year... heck, 2008 has already been a great year.