April Shower

I thought there would be some outings for the last 2 days of my sublet but with work deadlines I ended up staying inside. Though my own part was done, I needed to be "on standby" for others. I spent Monday afternoon cleaning up the loft; I keep my living spaces clean so this was just the usual chore. In the evening, there were two possibilities. First, I could go to a record store show at Sonic Boom for Lia Pappas-Kemps for her new album Winged. It has been more than a decade since I went there, or rather their old location on Bloor, for an in-store performance. The bonus was that Sonic Boom was only a few streetcar stops from Fresca so I could get a final Toronto-style slice of pizza. Second, I could have dinner with an ex-coworker that I haven't seen in a decade, but only talked to on the phone. I wasn't keen on the second option since they had several weeks to plan something instead of this late ask. I ended up doing neither because I was tasked at 5 pm to fix someone else's last-minute screw-up.

There was more cleaning on Tuesday though I was determined to get back my after-hours labour. I lounged around until I went out for lunch. The OG proprietor of 241 Pizza was there so I finally pulled the trigger on my final panzerotti. The cashier mistakenly charged me $13.99 for an $11.99 special but let us treat that as a tip (though my anal side dislike screw-ups). Also, the combination of chewy crust and gooey cheese was sufficient compensation for an error. Continuous rain meant no final show in the evening.

Wednesday morning, I decided to forgo a dry breakfast of toast as I have emptied out the fridge. But Progress Bakery was opened at 5:30 a.m. When I went inside, unlike this wonderful boulangerie that also opened early, most the shelves here have not yet been stocked. I suspected the ham and cheese croissant ($5.25) was from the previous day. The first few bites did not pass muster but things got better after 30 seconds in the microwave. I said goodbye to the plants; it was too bad I won't see the bloom. My friend will likely chopped off its stalk when they drop by.

The other half of the croissant made an acceptable meal on the bus. This was the first time I did not buy lunch at my Kingston break. Mr. Sub has palled lately and Fat Bastard Burrito was still on my time-out list. I was back in Ottawa a bit early but the transit ride home took an hour for a 6-7 minute car trip. Ah, the unreliable OC Transpo, how I do not miss thee.

Thursday I walked to the local strip mall to restock some fridge items and cleaning supplies. Speaking of which, with the snow melting away, winter detritus and litter was revealed in their glory. I still can't get over how dirty Ottawa is compared to Toronto. Combined that with the high volume of afternoon traffic and my trip was grimmer than grocery runs in The Big Smoke. For the holiday Friday and also Saturday morning, I did yet more cleaning. I wasn't sure how these jobs require more elbow grease because it has only been 2.5 weeks since my last trip back. With no plans to go out, the rest of the long week-end was catching up on shows from streaming services.

Lamb Shank Redemption

On Sunday, my ability to get a final meal from Chef Saha at BHK Roll hit several snags. I first headed there for lunch but the subway was out-of-commission again. Another signal upgrade from Jane to Ossington would not have affected me. Yet when I got to the station, a train with un-cooperative doors at Ossington itself had extended the shutdown to all stations. I spent 10 minutes waiting for a bus to take me to Wellesley station. This alternate route would leave me 1 stop from my destination.

But since it didn't arrive promptly, I stayed in the neighbourhood and went to Hana Sushi instead. I sat between some elderly folks: one was having lunch with her daughter and grandkids, the other was a couple of old friends going to see "talkies" (i.e., classic movies) at The Paradise. It was interesting to watch people who were not exposed to non-mainstream cuisine during their early adulthood. The grandma had never even tried edomame. It wasn't surprising that they all ordered bento boxes; tempura pieces and chicken teriyaki were familiar enough to other food to not be scary. My own sushi combo ($18) included 8 nigiri pieces and california rolls. I previously liked the veggie combo but forgot from my first visit that the fish were rather bland here. Or maybe like my grandma, my taste buds have dulled as I've gotten older.

For dinner, I tried the subway again. It was slower than usual since the trains had to unload passengers at Ossington and then reverse to head back the other way. When I got to BHK Roll, there were 2 minor problems. First, their internet was out so it was cash or e-transfer. Second, the roti option wasn't available tonight. I chose the Gosht Nizami ($24) and got 2 more surprises. The basmati rice was actually biriyani and the lamb was still on the bone. The meal was quite rich and tasty but the meat, while tender, was gamier than last time. Also, using food-court utensils to cut the meat, and with the whole thing inside a cardboard take-out container, was an exercise in "move very slowly and carefully".

Chimerical

On Saturday, I found conclusive proof that the unhoused person who owned the shopping carts was still around. During the day, I went to the library at Gladstone to look at some newspaper. I was, once again, almost certain that a woman sleeping inside was her. Unlike the male indigents in the neighbourhood, she kept her hair clean and her clothes neat. So there were no obvious markers of homelessness. In the late evening, the shopping carts were finally moved. They were blocking the doorway to a store, providing some measure of privacy, while she laid in a sleeping bag behind them. It did meant that throughout the winter months since January when they were stuck in the snowdrift, she wasn't using them.

Lunch was a mixture of veggies from No Frills, fried rice from South Pacific, spicy potatoes (they were correctly described as shredded potato, but stir-fried and then cool down) from Szechuan Noodle Bowl, and a cinnamon donut from Better Days. On my way to the library, I had seen some runners finished off their run by visiting the shop. Bloor had even more runners, though not quite in the obnoxious packs I have seen in online videos.

At night I visited The Burdock, a venue I haven't gone to during my sublet. Doors at 8:30 pm suggested a late show, but the first band started promptly at 9 pm. Bitchstick's members were definitely young, if not high-school teenagers, then not far from it. Or maybe everybody under 30 look like babies to me now. Their fans were split between equally young friends and some family members. I didn't mind as much as other "family shows" because one, they were just starting their musical career, and two, they played music that sounded fresh and contemporary.

I came because my online curiosity was pique by the band called Monstrosa. They turned out to be primarily women except for the drummer. The members wore Lucha Libra mask, Halloween demon mask, or what looked like a welding mask brightly painted and decorated with plastic monster fangs. Meanwhile, Pryce and her back-up singer were glammed up with glittery make-up and clubby clothes.

I have opined about liking danceable music. It seems I also like songs with furious drumming, chugging chords, and riff-heavy runs (oh, so many riffs). It was wall-to-wall bangers including a rocking cover of Blondie's Call Me. Debbie Harry was an inspiration because she didn't achieve success until she was 30. This was a good reminder for Pryce as a counteract to a youth-obsessed scene (Olivia Rodrigo, Billie Eilish). Well, I hoped that Monstrosa get some traction because to be both lead singer and guitarist, Pryce had the musical chops. The rest of the band was equally energetic. If Arenas played a $30 set for a $20 show, Monstrosa gave us a $40 act for $10 cover. It was too bad there was no merch for sale.

I was feeling the effects of late nights (for me) and stressful days. So I headed back home instead of staying for another rock band going by the moniker of Nameless Friends.

A-fun-cular

When I missed lunch by 2.5 hours because of a work meeting, I wasn't going to let it happen again on Friday. So I took advantage of the sunshine to head to No Frills at noon for a few basic items like fruit and oat milk to tie me over until my departure. I stopped by Szechuan Noodle Bowl to try more of their non-noodle dishes. This time it was cumin-spiced cauliflower ($15.49) and hot-and-sour shredded potatoes ($9.49). The portion sizes were huge and even two people could not finish them. Both dishes were delicious though I wonder if there was an error in translation. The potatoes tasted like some sort of raw root vegetable. Either that or they have perfected a way to prepare crunchy raw taters. When the waiter helped me collect the leftovers into take-out containers (more than enough for 3 more meals), they mentioned that I was like an older relative to them. Oof! It's still hard to contemplate that I was a "historical figure" to the younger generation.

Later on that evening, I wasn't the oldest at The Baby G but I wasn't far off. I was mostly there for Tange, whom Little Junior joked lovingly as a "Toronto legend". Certainly they was the most successful, not the trio itself, but the career of the individual members: Deanna Petcoff, Sabrina Carrizo Sztainbok, and Luna Li. Sadly, the latter was not present tonight and Tange had a substitute drummer. Perhaps she had other commitments or now that she can fill Danforth Music Hall, Li no longer wanted to play dinky venues per her Mod Club show.

Being more or less a side project, Tange has only put out a handful of songs in 10 years. But tonight we were treated to several new numbers. They had a cool vibe and combined elements of pop (without sounding dated) with atmospheric garage. The songs were fun and approached well-worn tropes in a novel way: a song about relationship commitment meant getting the smartphone password. Deanna and Sabrina's vocals blended well, were usually understated, but sometimes were let loosed with Evanescence-esque power.

The fun continued with Little Junior. They were an energetic four piece, somewhere between Weezer and Green Day. I couldn't quite sussed what they were singing about through my earplugs, but the music was catchy and danceable. I was going to duck out but gave headliner Arenas a chance at a few songs. The drummer/singer quipped that they wanted to give a $30 performance for a $20 show. They delivered on that promise and I ended up staying for their entire set. It was as if early David Byrne met a muscular psych rock outfit: slinky bass, propulsive drums, and odd chords and riffs.