Sorry ‘bout your stuff. If you didn’t lose any stuff, sorry you had to leave your home for a while. Or if you got through unscathed, thanks for helping out. It’s cool - it’s only stuff and you matter so much more. In fact, over the past week or so I’ve discovered so much more cool about you.
I genuinely like you. I think of you as a true friend I’ve had for years now. I like that feeling a whole lot more than just seeing your face pass by on the street once in a while. We’re not best buddies or anything, but I’m open to hanging out or going for beers once in a while or maybe we can hit the next Stamps game, or Flames, or Hitmen or Roughnecks. Or something in the minor leagues or whatever you’re into because, you know, you’re kinda cool and I figure you like cool stuff.
Hey, those beers, let’s go for something local. I’m longing for a Brew Brother’s Black Pilsner, may I offer you something from Village Brewery, Minhas, Wild Rose or Big Rock? I’m up for anything good and local, what’s your favourite? Let’s head down to the Ironwood or Mikey’s Juke Joint or the Blues Can and catch a show. Although your regular haunt would be just fine too. I’m up for something different.
Or let me buy you dinner. There’s a great family run restaurant down the block. We can go just after we go trolling through the galleries looking for a new painting for your feature wall.
Ya know, it is festival season too. Canada Day is going to be kinda different at Shaw Millennium Park this year. Different is good. That’s the whole point of meeting you through the flood, isn’t it? There’s hardly a week that goes by that we can’t find something to do. Let’s go find something and kick back a while.
Maybe instead we’ll just say hi to each other by name instead of grunting or dodging eye contact in the hall. The important thing is knowing we’ve got each other’s back when the chips are down.
So, for the next little while, mi casa es su casa. Let’s just muddle through this for now and once we dig out we’ll all be better off. We’re a different city now, let’s keep this feeling going.
As a charter member of the Eternally Loyal Order of Flood Friends, I solemnly swear to share my food, water and sustenance (okay, I’ll share my coffee but maybe not the really, REALLY good stuff), rubber boots, tools and cleaning supplies come Hell or High Water, under risk of Stampede Breakfast Banishment, forever and anon until Nenshi doth nap.