|Well, instead of a deejay, I have been saved by splendid joys happening in a single day, in one spectacular city. In the photo above, I captured magic mist.|
Sunday was a comic's dream. So many cracked jokes. So much addictive fun. Time, however, was most wonderful gift bestowed. That people sacrifice a brisk weekend for charity giving, spending hours with fans, and simply hanging out around a fascinating town touched sensitive bohemian spirit. I don't think one hundred repetitive "thank yous" expresses length of gratitude flooding through my veins.
I found myself dazzled and overjoyed about coming to Kate Linder's Young and the Restless Tea Event-- funds raised to support March of Dimes, a 63-year-old organization committed to offering people with disabilities advantages, showing them deserved human decency, gracious patience, and amiable respect. Kate (Esther) would be co-hosting and actors-- Sean Carrigan (Stitch), Bryton James (Devon), and Toronto native Mishael Morgan (Hilary) of fictional Genoa City came along to freely support her as well as engage with dedicated fans. If you must know, I am a new found fan of the Hevon pairing-- portmanteau of Hilary and Devon characters flawlessly played by Mishael and Bryton. I came because of them, in hopes of them. Kate and Sean were just cake frosting. And cake frosting is addicting.
First of all, I took the roaring, exploring 11:30 PM Megabus up to Canada, on top deck seats. I had forgotten red lipstick and my copy of Morris Micklewhite, a little bummed. Yet wheels rolled round and round and we escaped Philadelphia's rain showers. Sky happenings started unveiling beautiful imagery. One must take ample advantage of the clear rooftop windows-- never know what might dazzle eyes. Rather enjoyable lying on back, watching steadfast moonlight follow in hot pursuit, shining on mystical white clouds swirling about. Either Big Dipper or Little Dipper revealed itself. Brightest story element sat on constellation edge, sparkling prettier than most expensive diamond. I wanted to make a wish on it, but the trip was already at a corny phase. Didn't want to push it further.
By morning, everyone had to go to U.S. Customs. Lo and behold they ask for passports and reasons for leaving the country.
"I'm attending a soap opera convention." Yes, I tried sounding normal-- keeping excitement to hushed minimum. Because a compulsive fangirl going to afternoon tea trying best not to act like crazy Mad Hatter was going to be laughable. Agent had the straight, non expression face like a London guard, but his blue eyes sparkled mischievously. It wasn't a secret that he probably found daunting "excuse" quite funny and would laugh about it later once out of earshot.
"Have a good time," he said.
Once hitting pass Canadian border, my phone went into Roger Wireless Status, meaning "you're on your own! I help you no further!" It was like Frodo leaving Sam at the end of Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. Frodo left Sam the Shire and bounced off on trotting horse, never looking back. My phone left me a shell devoid of its functions. Darn it AT&T it's Canada. Not across the glittery Atlantic. So rude.
I was happy to discover a Starbucks near the exit stop. Hot Gingerbread Soy Milk Latte calmed frustrated nerves and warmed chilled spirits. I passed time drawing pictures and listening to various dialects and languages. From time to time, I commiserated over fabulous downtown architecture, reveling in the Momotofu dragon out front.
|Most elaborate dragon sculpture! Kind of reminds me of Brancusi's style.|
|R.I.P. to one of the bravest, most courageous men in South African history. Nelson Mandela touched the whole wide world.|
|Thought it would be more castle shaped. Seriously. I looked out for ivory towers and narrow draw bridges over lengthy clear water moats.|
|Interior was richly captivating. Found perfect place to dance. Right where railing is polished gold and twinkling disco balls reflect on soft velvet carpet.|
I received ticket and crept into the vast enchanting ballroom, settling into lavishly set table 24. Sterling silver tea pots, water filled wine glasses, white cloth napkins-- all beautifully displayed. Plus a pink tote bag sat in my designated seat. Four cast members were just in the midst of introducing themselves.
"Is this your bag?" I quietly asked red dress lady beside me.
"No. That's yours," she replied, gesturing at hers under the table.
I sat rapt and attentive, listening to everyone answer questions. FYI: The ladies are attached, Bryton is single, and Sean is splitting up. Not sure if this information means anything to anyone reading today….
So someone asked a Gwen question. Y&R Backstory: Gwen is a character married Hilary has thrust into Devon's world in order to make it seem like the special woman in his life is really not Hilary herself. I caught edge of Bryton's response. Put a smile on my face. Find the link here: "Hilary Is the Love of Devon's Life."
|Another divine "Hevon" moment y'all.|
|Sean starts the auction off with a Diesel plaid shirt worn by his character Stitch. He was like, "what? They're selling this shirt? It's mine!" Hahahaha!!!! It sold for $325 and the winner kissed his cheek. Sweet.|
|The million dollar mega watt smile lit up dimly crowded room. And that was probably partly why the sweater cardigan sold for $350. Seriously. If I could I would have thrown in my wallet into the ring. And looked wildly insane doing so.|
|Mishael auctioned off the really cute, chic low cut Banana Republic olive green dress from the memorable Thanksgiving episode.|
|The dress sold for $350!|
|Yes!!!!! Thank you FYeahHevon!!!|
I was treated to a grand tour of downtown Toronto, pleased by the arts and culture. It's a fantastic city ripened with fresh possibilities. Saw classical inspired drawings created by talented students, architecture weaving modernism and postmodern design, and corner cafes and restaurants teasingly tantalizing vegan curiosity. Definitely not the last time I'll be venturing around Canada.
Christine met us at the fancy Art Square. Her children's book I mentioned earlier-- Morris Micklewhite and the Tangerine Dress is a must read pleasantly illustrated tale battling gender roles, feast to visually stimulating eyes and words to stir ravenous mind. Bless her heart. She gave us second printing copies. Not only was there an autograph, but one of the most thoughtfully generous paragraphs ever written to me. I was watery eyed for the millionth time. People can give so much. It's an overwhelming surprise when feeling grossly undeserving of such infectious merriment.
|Art Gallery of Ontario. Impressive design inside and out.|
|I must see Basquiat. I must! I must!! He is one of my favorite artists in the whole wide world. We made plans.|
|"It is rare for art to matter to us more than cake." So true.|
|Pencil permanently lodged inside roof.|
|This is the bottom. It's astonishing pencils without leaded points hold this building together. Quite brilliant.|
|Hot spicy hot chocolate made with soy milk. The little wooden spoon was charming.|
|My autographed second edition Morris Micklewhite and the Tangerine Dress.|
|Sea Salt Chocolat, 100% cacao bar for the best hot chocolate ever (cannot wait to try this!!), and Organic Cocoa Chai-- funniest coincidence-- I gave the ladies both packets of Tazo Organic Chocolate Chai Tea. Great minds….|
More hugs occurred and devout promises of returning. Probably a record hug day for a recluse. Never embraced so many strangers in one day before. Except in a way they're not strangers. Maybe strangers in a physical way. But emotionally and mentally speaking, they're another kind of family. The soaps. The fans of the soaps. The building companionship with both.
|Fast paced flashy lights as transport zooms past.|
|Last abstract shot of Toronto's bright nightlife.|
"I was there for a soap opera event."
"At a swanky hotel at the Westin Castle on 1 Harbour Square."
"Where is that?"
"That was all I needed to know."
"Are you on television?"
"Are you an actress?"
Not only was I told to take off hat and eyeglasses, I had to stop laughing. Ladies and gentleman the latter was hard.
Sniffing golden retriever rudely put his head into my gifted tote bag and demanded a poppyseed bagel. Of course, I did not oblige him.
I made it to Monday morning seminar class on time. Performed in group collaboration project reciting Paul Celan poetry. Lastly, sank into a chair, cheesing hard like I had some secret buried inside that no one knew about. Until now.