Greek Haircuts & Meat

  I’m sitting in a salon on Queen Street East, waiting for a haircut. The salon is owned by an older Greek couple. They and their clientele wished Jazzy a happy 17th birthday. “God bless both of you!” they said in their thick accents.

They feel like the old people at church when I was growing up, who always talked to me. They talked to me like they’d known me all my life (cuz they actually had), and I didn’t even know their names. There’s something familiar about them, and I think it’s why I keep coming back.

Paul and Renee came home from the hospital with a baby yesterday. His name is Kieran. It’ll be fun to have a baby in the house. Jazzy and I bought them a gift certificate from Cineplex, so they could go on a date, and leave the kid with us. Exciting times!

They invited us down this afternoon to meet the baby. They also bought a cake for Jazzy – which I found incredibly thoughtful, given the big shiny new changes in their home.

Jazzy’s birthday has been…

FUCK!!!

I thought Orthodox Easter was April 24. It’s not. It’s May 1. May goddammed 1st! Jesus Christ, I dreamt about eating chicken last night. I haven’t eaten chicken, or any other meat and dairy since lent began approximately too long to remember ago.

Two more weeks. Alright. Here I go.

Jazzy’s birthday has been swell. We’ll be celebrating by doing stuff and not eating meat.

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