Friday, October 24, 2008

Day 167

i feel like i've been here months already. the calendar says one week.

after a long and intense game of friendly poker, three of us went out to the grocery store to buy our simple lunch. i've gotten used to the canadian coin replacing what used to be bills and, seeing that i don't have too much money to spare, i have a small, wrinkled bag of coin where i keep it all. like grandpa. i pull it out for purchases, such as 59¢ bagels and 35¢ bananas and todays can of tuna. the cashier lady noticed my bag of coins and offered to sort through it to get as much from it instead of breaking one of my few bills. i don't know how she knew, but she cheerfully counted six dollars worth of change and i stood there and realized that quarters and dollar coins never meant so much to me in my entire life. i'm not broke yet and i'm getting closer and closer to starting work for the season, but i've really come to enjoy and appreciate life in this manner. i passed up getting a can of chowder soup because it was over two dollars and sixty cents. someday.

however, i reasoned that if i had a significant amount of cash, meals would be met on a whim and opportunities for job searching and meeting people and living through word of mouth wouldn't ever happen. if i had bunches of money, i'd probably get bored and wonder what to do with it and would probably end up wasting in order to feel new and different again. i feel new and alive each time we go to the grocery store to make a cheap and simple meal with my bag of coins. these are fulfilling.

tonight, the hotel manager friend i mentioned yesterday took the guys in the house to the restaurant inside the resort he manages. we got a solid discount on stellar dining and with blessings like these that have been happening every few nights, the earlier cheap lunches are still as relevant as if they'd been costly and over the top. balance.

the resort's massive wood log lounge with a center stone fireplace also had a digital baby grand piano. my friend said i could play, he is the manager after all, and they all liked what they heard- enough for the manager to commit to getting permission for me to play during the winter in this big room of massive logs and tall windows at the base of the mountain right outside. between this and the piano at the church, i'm already starting to get back that big part of me that shrunk and almost disappeared over the busy summer.

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