I spend the next two days working out of the Calgary office, downtown. The weather is brisk, cloudy, with spits of rain and lazy bursts of sun. The office is on the sixteenth floor, which gives us pleasant glimpses of the Bow River and a hazy horizon cloaking the mountains. No crisp, clean profile of the Rockies on this visit.
Art and I trade time between my friends' house, Brock and Kathy, and Art's sister, Mary. Both offer their own unique brand of hospitality; Mary and Dan's famous garage that defies descripiton.
And then Brock and Kathy's home, the other half of the "odd couple", their home a study of simplicity and order.
On Tuesday I take a walk at lunchtime, and enjoy a crispy Panini at a local coffee shop. The spring air, warm provolone, and occassional waft of cinnamon from my Chai delight my senses.
A quick anecdote for my UK friend; Brock and Kathy are descended from the Sheffields, the
knife-making Sheffields. Kathy agrees that the Canadian croissants are awful, but she assures me that there are proper French bakeries in Calgary.
Did I mention I lost my purse? Art was not surprised, but it shook Mary up enough that she checked that I had all my stuff ever after.
