Better joy in a cottage than
sorrow in a palace. This was the descriptor under a cocktail called English
Cottage which was a potent blend of fresh mint, gin, rhubarb and soda on crushed
ice.
Buns, the little mischief maker,
co- adventurer in creativity and fabulous fierce friend on this long distance triathlon
of life was having a birthday. Gastown in Vancouver has become a haven of tantalizing
food spots as well as a mecca of mixologists who take the creation of cocktails
to an art form. What better way to celebrate the vixen.
·
We headed to Blood
Alley excited to indulge at Boneta, our first time at the new location.
·
BONETA LOVES YOU
will give you all the info you need.
We shared everything, as is
our nature and started with English pea soup with seared scallops and lemon crème
fraiche. Pure heaven even without the simple freshly baked bread that we
inhaled before our soup got to the table. Then carpaccio with arugula, quail eggs
and shaved parmesan followed by smooth melt in your mouth Gnocchi. We had
decided to order a la carte instead of the 3 course set menu and enjoyed every
mouthful.
My only complaint really was
the after dinner latte. Part of a good latte is the container it comes in and
their cups were so tiny you couldn’t put your finger through the handle. Not
sexy! Give me a bowl any day.
And then the noise. Will anyone ever design a restaurant
in Vancouver where you can have an intimate conversation?
The buzz is great if people watching
is one of your extracurricular activities but not so fine for actually hearing.
Maybe you have enough Heidi in you that you don’t mind yodeling across the
table but it's not my thing. I prefer perfecting the sultry purrs that the human
voice is capable of.
Mmmm…look over there; I think I am crushing a
little.
WHAT?
Crushing... table behind you... to
the left.
WHAT did you say? Cushion? You
want a cushion?
It was not easy to get deep,
but we managed.
We talked about the current dismantling
we are both experiencing in our lives. Buns has had such physical upheavals and
mine have been identity and emotion based.
I am dissolving an identity
that I rather liked, a woman keen to understand human nature, my own and others
and passionate about extending support to those who want expansion in their
lives. As I let go of the need to know and invite acceptance of what is, even
if I don’t understand it… I seem to be softening…mellowing…breathing ,like an
uncorked red. I sincerely hope it will still be robust and full bodied when ready to drink.
At times it’s so odd that I
am left with a feeling of space in my solar plexus. "Fill it with your essence,"
says Buns, easy peasy…just do it now. And I do, although with all the food it’s hard
to tell if it’s true essence or the Foole Tart with poached rhubarb and
vanilla ice cream.
And while I enjoyed a splendid
evening there was a kind of gentleness to it that felt different than my usual experience
of high intensity interactions where pushing the envelope in many directions feels
like sparking an internal flame. It's like I am on a train and it has a direction, I am on it, just not in charge of it...not in control of it.
And I let go of the idea that
my spark is somehow dampened and instead trust that in this time of transition
I simply have not been shown yet the way my essence wants to translate itself
out into the world. In this moment it is calling for surrender and relaxation. After all Chill Marty sounds like a lovely lounge to
have a connected calm conversation in. And fires can soothe and warm as
well as ignite and roar.
Here’s to allowing what will
be to be and to remembering that freedom from construct is a liberating experience.
Branded by falling apart and
softening.
Authentically Yours,
Marty
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