I got my sister's Christmas card in the mail today. The image on the front is of a large, downtown store. When I first looked at it I thought it was the downtown Winnipeg Bay store. I opened the card and read the printed verbiage: "Like a snowflake, each day is a small miracle. Celebrate accordingly." Above that my sister wrote in her best penmanship, "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year Jill". Okay, standard stuff. But below the pre-printed sentiment she added:
We are looking forward to celebrating with you this holiday season and in the year to come. The picture on this card is from New York, I figured you'd appreciate it. Love Tracy + C.
I turned to the back of the card. It had the Saks Fifth Avenue logo and yup, a little caption that noted the image on the front was of the New York City flagship store, circa 2004.
She totally out-sentimentaled me on this one. Well okay, at least she didn't send a "Dear Sister at Christmas Time" card. We all know Christmas isn't about the gifts or the butter tarts. It's the one time of the year for telling people how much you love them and value having them in your life. Yup, that's it, only once a year does that opportunity come along and if you miss it you have to wait a full four seasons for the window to open again. Perhaps she will forgive and forget if I tape a twenty to the gift tag on her present.
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I knew what I wanted to eat before stepping into the Osborne Village restaurant with Vince, Florence and Vince's friend, Dorothy. I had read the reviews for Segovia that afternoon and everyone raved about the hanger steak and the patatas bravas. Winnipeg's only true tapas bar promised something a little different for the meat and potatoes fare.
We were seated in the lounge at a bar height table. My brushed steel stool faced the patio doors that were a window to the winter white urban street front. The three tables for two beside us were occupied by daters. There was a mixed group of four living in the moment at the bar behind us. Unlike the dining room, this room felt like we were in some hipster's apartment. Old fashioned light bulbs hung from the ceiling, their warm glow kissing the flicker of the tea light candles in old canning jars. The candle was sitting in a couple of inches of sand in the bottom of the jar. I loved this and decided I wanted to take a picture of the candle, the brick, the gouged wood table, so I could try to mimic the simple romance in my home.
I just downloaded the photo now though and it's nothing compared to the real thing. It looks like a washed jam jar on a table beside a cold brick wall. That's not how I saw it at all. It looked like heat, like a sample of a beach campfire. Which image is the truth, my memory's or my point and shoot camera's?
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