Boots made for stomping..

Beamer Park - Grimsby, ON

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

I follow my boys along the root-veined pathway wishing that I'd bought a pair of rubber boots for my own feet! "Mom", my son comments, "I don't think they make rubber boots in that size!" Oh but of course they do!! There are so many quirky, stylish options for this sort of thing nowadays so I'm sure I would have found a design that appealed to me. As it's not exactly footwear I would wear often, I would have to walk into the store with money in hand specifically on a day that had "walking through a mucky forest" marked on the calendar for the purchase to really happen... But I will have to do that because it really is one of those things that you truly appreciate having when it's time to use it!

It sure has been one wet April, as evidenced by the pockets of water in the fields and the rain-soaked tree trunks criss-crossed along the forest floor that, as we discovered, split apart quite easily when subjected to a little pressure! My kids are thrilled to discover a few little four and six-legged inhabitants while we grownups marvel at how closely the moist splinters of wood resemble the earth to which the decomposing tree is returning. The original recycling depot.

It feels good to be stepping amongst the trees as I follow the weaving path, inhaling the refreshing air and treating my pixel-logged eyes to an uninterrupted woodland vista rich with shades of green and brown. Rather than becoming tired from navigating the rippling, earthy pathway, I find that my energy level is increasing: the further I walk, the further I want to walk. Similar energy surges are multiplying in the boys as well, as evidenced by how enthusiastically they pounce in and around the maze of felled trees. Nature's obstacle course has defeated Nintendo's obstacle course.. for this particular afternoon anyway!!

There is a reason they call it 'Chicago-style' deep dish pizza.

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Whenever I plan an adventure to a new place, I always prepare a list of hidden gems and other attractions to visit, a list to guide me into experiencing those events I believe to be unique or at least characteristic of the locale. I do this even if it is not going to be my first dance in that city, but it becomes that much more imperative if it is! Tending to this list provides me with the most delightful foreplay, amplifying the anticipation in those exciting weeks leading up to my departure date. I am also aware of the implications of over-injecting into this list. Too many items labelled "must see" could potentially set me up for a frenzied address chase resulting in a lackluster vacation afterglow:  too much striving and not enough absorbing interrupts the therapeutic effects of the trip!

For my visit to Chicago last summer, "eat some Chicago-style pizza" occupied a cozy line on my list. Now I am not a maniacal pizza devotee by nature, but I felt as if it should be one of those "things to do". This was nestled in there just underneath "Sip drinks on the 92nd floor of the Hancock" and "Visit Kingston Mines for the gritty blues club experience". (Check! Check!)

It was a Sunday, the final course of a phenomenal four-day excursion with my charismatic girlfriend, a day that was missing its morning due to the fact that we allowed ourselves to sleep in profusely and luxuriously late! - the perfect reason to make pizza the first meal of the day. We scanned our directories and made a few inquiries of the locals, and decided to dine at Pizza Due on Wabash Avenue (which just happened to be down the way from Pizza Uno - yes, affiliated!) Upon our arrival, we descended the cement steps, politely navigating the assembly of other gastronomically inclined individuals and awaited our turn to order. We then proceeded to return to the sunshine to select a suitable piece of patio real estate that would serve as our base for the next hour or so.

Now I will say this: the pizza was not pretty: it was not suffocatingly symmetrical nor was it aesthetically garnished. But who the heck cares when it arrives at your table looking like this:

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

So I retain: presentation is everything!!! Our lips moistened and our tummies shivered in anticipation of the hearty symphony of flavours we were moments away from devouring.

At this time, I must solemnly release a confession: about halfway into the consumption of this exact slice you now see before you, I had to enlist the services of a knife and fork. Oh! it was such a tough decision to make, and one that I certainly didn't undertake lightly. It is, after all, among the most universal of everyday rules: you don't wear socks with sandals, you don't leave your windows up while driving with the top down, and you don't eat pizza with a knife and fork!!!

Yes, it was a wee bit out of my comfort zone, but totally necessary: this thing was massive! Substantially scrumptious! Densely delectable! Enormously enjoyable! The sauce was of a personality not too sweet nor too acidic. The toppings were hearty and succulent. And the crust was deliciously worthy of its supporting role... unlike any pizza crust I've ever encountered, it was actually reminiscent of the bread pudding in my Mom's turkey dinner repertoire. They don't mess around at Pizza Due. It was a satisfying Check! off my list, and a fine way to usher in day number four of our Chicago experience!

Drive-by Shooting in Toronto

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

I love images like this, which you have probably already deduced by now if you do come to Salt, Angles, and Elation for the occasional visit. I'm not really sure why distressed-looking relics of a distant day appeal to me. Upon selecting this particular image for my post tonight, I mused about this and came up with a few satisfying linguistic combinations: tenaciously weathered... rustically charismatic... inherently functional... refreshingly asymmetrical... 

Delving into it a little deeper, I decide that lingering solely over this trailer's two-dimensional existence allows me to virtually explore it without burden. I imagine touching it without having to worry about inadvertently acquiring a splinter or encountering a web-encased stowaway. I can enjoy its likely history without having to expend energy on its upkeep or to make room on my property for its sizable footprint. I also find myself drawn in by its perfectly affixed hardware.. I am actually longing to slide the metal rod upwards and slip it out of its position! Not because I feel the need to open the gate necessarily; it's just that I see potential motion. Besides, when you think about it, half of a lock's reason for existence is to unlock. It's probably very good at it, too.

And then, perhaps it is the origins of the photograph itself that entrance me. I captured it while sitting comfortably in a passenger seat, awaiting an illuminated colour change at a downtown intersection, blissfully immersed in an intermission from my routine of active duty. Don't get me wrong: I love everything about my routine as well as my daily intentional lack thereof, which you also 'get' if you've been here before! I simply delight in an intriguing change of scenery while indulging in an abundance of uninterrupted deep breathing. Couldn't we all use that from time to time? Long ago, I stopped waiting for it to appear at my door... now I either take advantage of being offered the means to an escape and turn it into what I need or just go out and concoct one on my own. It's all good.

TIME & LIFE

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

It just looks like something I'd like to pick up and hold in my hand - smooth but not slick, compact but not crowded.. I imagine it as a tidy little paperweight resting substantially in my palm, geometrically perfect and asymmetrically satisfying. I love its eggshell blues, an unassuming matte exterior residing in harmony with the slate grey walls and sky-reflecting windows of its tall, structured neighbours.

And here it dwells, calmly observing the antics of the Avenue of the Americas' curbside inhabitants. Why, just this afternoon, it bore witness to that gregarious executive who was indeed every shade of slick in his impeccable Valentino suit and artfully touseled hair as he worked on cajoling his smart, female colleague into joining him for a post meeting cocktail.

Corporately fierce on the outside but charismatically vulnerable on the inside, her sensibility insisted refusal as her fluttering heart unwittingly gravitated towards his charms and conversational prowess. She imagined herself unhooking her fingers from the handle of her laptop bag and entangling them with his own, allowing him to lead her to his conveniently parked Audi S5. They would linger over Grey Goose martinis, only half listening to Sinatra, and she would slowly slide the olives down the crimson swizzle stick with her teeth as he seductively coated her ego with colloquial caramel...

But as much as she wanted to drop her laptop, she didn't. She gripped its leather handle like a vise and held her ground just as firmly, eventually departing proudly towards a cab. And once inside, she finally released her bag with a big sigh, feeling almost as blue as the smooth, compact planes of the Time Life sculpture as the cab weaved its way to her condo.