On the first day of Victoria Day long weekend, I made my way towards North York for the second time this year. I had repeatedly checked the travel time before departing, and was admittedly frustrated when my original thirty minute-estimate surged by 1.5x. Unfortunately, not all vacationers had departed the GTA yet.
Shockingly unsafe conditions plagued the entire commute. From the typically calm 403 to commuter-filled 401, other drivers were recklessly switching lanes on very short notice, or none at all! The scene was particularly awful on the 401 nearing the 400 and 404, which respectively feature aggressive industrial movers and uneducated, once-in-a-blue-moon highway users on a regular day.

By the time I exited onto Yonge Street, I was not only frazzled but extremely riled up. "I am never leaving my house again on a long weekend!" was declared with fury. As I approached the location for my first scheduled activity, my fingers frantically navigated towards the Green P app as I drifted into the left turn lane at Yonge/Sheppard.

​At receiving an error on the app, I was taken back. Nearing the surface lot though, the reason soon dawned upon me: The Green P lot was closed for construction.

And so, I relinquished $7.20 for 75 mins of street parking and scurried towards the third floor, where Studio Le Ciel resided. The studio was still as sluggish as ever about checking messages and the online booking system was extremely finnicky with stringent cancellation and refund policies. I intended to make the most of my ̶g̶a̶s̶ consecutive trips to the northeast side of the GTA, thus booked a two-class pass at their Spring Sale promotion price of $40 plus tax. Class credits were set to expire after two weeks, so I made haste in securing a Saturday morning spot. It was learned that booking platform did not register package payments with booking eligibility until the following business day though, but I had already succeeded in troubleshooting my concern by the time the studio provided a response.

A cluster of shoes was present outside the studio, indicating the requirement of removing shoes before entering. Slippers were not provided for customer use, however, but staff were spotted donning chunky platform slides. After checking in with the receptionist, I was gestured towards the rear of the facility, past the semi-private and private training areas, for the bathroom and lockers. This space boasted two changing rooms, a coat rack with velvet-covered hangers (that attracted accumulation of hair and dust), and a single bathroom stall. Needless to say, I ran for the bathroom as the class was about to start imminently.
​Aside from the toilet seat, the facility was generally lacking in cleanliness: scuff marks and hair were present inside the toilet bowl, dust had collected on the surface of the sink and around the soap bottle, and there were plenty of dusty, yellow corners. Moreover, I had not laid eyes on a seemingly more ancient hand dryer in recent years.

Shoving my EATALY tote into one of the cubbies and turning the Canadiana-plush-charm-attached key, I ran towards the group class area by the window. Each group class consisted of a total of six participants, who could take their pick of Reformer (plus Tower) from 4 SPX Max and 2 V2 MAX machines. Being the last to join, my pick automatically defaulted to the V2 MAX against the side of the wall. This later emerged to be the best pick of the selection for it evaded harsh UV rays from the window that would prompt perspiration and skin damage and effectively encouraged core engagement for the cardio burst.
The instructor had just commenced a warm-up of hamstring and hip flexor stretches. Within seconds, I realized I had forgotten to change into grip socks, disappearing once more to initiate the change. Let it be known at least fifteen minutes of a buffer should be considered for a peaceful, punctual entry into class.

Following the dynamic stretches, the instructor demonstrated the next series of exercises. Commencing in a lunge position with one foot against the shoulder rest and the other foot planted on the floor, we were to gently lift the knee, extend the leg on the Carriage, and tuck the knee of the standing leg towards the chest. Lunge to knee tuck planks with a curved spine were executed for 10 reps, followed by lunge to straight leg raises with a flat back for 10 reps. These two exercises would then be alternated for a final 10 reps, consequently elevating one's heart rate. The quick series definitely challenged lat strength, but also caused slight discomfort to weak wrists.

​Timing a job change is wickedly tricky. Between the handover tasks and countless farewell conversations about the office, I consolidated several other actions within the same span of a week. Truth be told: It maximized efficiency at the cost of sanity.

Besides my grand cookie venture and Pecan Frangipane Tart with Oat Crust over the weekend, I revisited the household's beloved Marbled Banana Bread for the first time in a while. Dare I say, it was even more delicious than the previous round.

My days in the office were limited. On a hectic Tuesday, one of the most senior staff members invited me out for coffee. I turned down her offer of % Arabica, instead leading her towards the comparatively cost-effective choice of To Go Coffee. My pick lay with a Pear Jasmine Latte, while hers a Hawthorn Berry Tea. Allow me to confirm that the espresso-containing concoction was noticeably better than its abnormally cloying matcha rendition.

​I departed the office early that afternoon after snagging a slice of cake. Prior to my last day, it was pivotal to maximize my remaining benefits allowance where possible.

The next day, I opted to return to CoCo to claim my complimentary beverage. ​It was only natural to select the priciest option on the menu: Brown Sugar Pearl Milk Tea (plus an extra topping of pudding).

​Aligning my last day with the last work day of the week automatically defaulted to fewer people in the office. Nevertheless, those that considered me close enough of a friend or coworker physically presented themselves for my send-off. I hadn't expected anything greater than a few messages, thus was rather shocked to receive gifts and even a card!

The team member with which I had worked closely offered a farewell lunch as his treat. Cong Caphe was the obvious choice due to its proximity and our shared desire to sample their Banh Mi and Coconut Smoothie lineup.

​When I had attempted a visit during their grand opening weekend, a treacherous lineup had extended through the door. This time around, the interior was peaceful, allowing for admiration of the interior decor. Similar to the original downtown location on Elm, the suburban location continued to embrace wooden furniture with floral seats and a comprehensive army green throughout. Gazing towards the ceiling, I appreciated that the ducts and piping had also been colour-coordinated for cohesiveness, rather than leaving the components as is to be wholly disjointed in theme.

By virtue of presentation of my Matcha Layer Brownies, I quietly made the office aware of my participation in the Aprons in Action campaign. Unfortunately, the nestling of my banner next to the treats was too subtle to be noticed. (I later learned that printing a larger poster and tacking it near the sink also didn't help my case!)

​I accompanied a coworker towards Sea Shanty Fish & Chips over lunch. The request for a Full Size order of signature Fish & Chips came as a surprise to me, for the pub offering deviated drastically from the components typically found in the colleague's packed lunch. But of course, the average person does not seek out what can be constructed at home when dining out.

​Visually quite impressive, the haddock fillet had been lightly battered, exhibiting a golden glow and obvious, airy crunch.

​While heading towards Walmart afterwards, an uncanny encounter was made: I crossed paths with one of my first year elective classmates! About 13-14 years have passed since that time, yet we recognized each other without hesitation. Astounding was the coincidental timing of it all, but even more so was how both of us retained the contact details of the other in our phones. Unexpectedly crossing paths after all these years reminded me fondly of the early years of adulthood, as well as the abundance of growth that had taken place in that duration. She relayed to me an imminent wedding and her move to the west side of the GTA. Naturally, we resolved to catch up one day.

​Back in the office, a partially eaten box of donuts was offered to the kitchen. Adjacent to a trio of somewhat melty Chocolate Dips was the newly launched Ryan Reynolds Maple Butter Glazed Donut. Another member of staff hovered nearby, curious about the creation. We opted to split the donut in half for sampling - a wise choice, given its abhorrent sweetness. A Blackberry Yuzu Lemonade Quencher - with no presence of yuzu whatsoever, mind you - was inadequate in combatting the cloying qualities.

Fatigue crept up over the course of the day, prompting a trip to Costco instead of heading home for exercise. The decision was deemed appropriate, for it enabled relief from pre-long weekend crowds.

Anxieties have surged this week, which means that the urge to crawl into a hole and remain there until the tsunami passes has returned.

​Frankly, I'm not sure what to make of office situation. Despite being in dire need of time off, I've been deferring time off, as well as work-related reimbursements, for there is tremendous uncertainty surrounding the imminent future.

Assuming one of the scarce stretches of respite in my daily work life are lunchtime walks. Often are these strolls executed in solitude, however I enjoy the moments when fellow ranters wish to take part. Even excursions as short-lived as a Tim Hortons run has the ability to bring about a sense of connection - confirmation that I am, in fact, not out of the ordinary for merely desiring work-life balance.

I returned home that evening to munch upon a Traditional Hot Cross Bun from COBS Bread, an Easter staple.
​
The subsequent afternoon was brimming with meetings; my attempt to weave both pie-making and a Nene Chicken order into the mix resulted in a woeful amount of stress. The emotional rollercoaster was a foreign feeling, an element that wouldn't have been experienced in my former job due to fair workload distribution and a priority for worker sanity. Alas, the current load of meetings and duties customarily refrain one from exercising their hard-earned lunch break.

​Despite the ongoing UberEATS BOGO offer, the Nene Chicken transaction totalled a whopping $93.53! After tip, the grand total came to a preposterous $109.17. The order comprised of 16 pieces each of Bone-In Soy Garlic Chicken and Boneless Swicy Chicken, plus $2.75 of Pickled Radish. Three generously-filled containers constituted the side; the mu was indeed superior to MyMy Chicken.

​Both varieties of chicken were fleshy and well-seasoned, but regrettably spicy. The heat propagated from the centre of the mouth towards the throat and temples. Although we enjoyed the chicken fresh, leftovers grew progressively spicier, eventually leading to discomfort in the throat and body.
I began to perspire and shake later that evening. The combined effects of spice and grease had conflicted with my body's needs. Propelled into a low fever and headache, I decided to call in sick. Informed was this decision, for the one-day breather provided the overdue physical and mental relief I desperately needed.

Prior to deterioration was the preparation of a peanut-soy-black sesame tangyuan (from Laurel, instead of our go-to brand of LKF) and the creation of Fig Jam.​

Often we tell others to "hang in there" when they express having a hard time, but is that really the best approach? Until when are they to keep holding on?
The saying "hanging by a thread" applies to situations such as these, for one's grip can only be sustained for so long. Continuous challenges without adequate moments of rest, recovery, and happiness inevitably lead to one's regrettably predictable demise.

Being "depressed" would be an understatement given the latest state of affairs. I'm merely living a nightmare that won't end - a reality where even fitful dreams are better than awaking to see another work day.

​I'm absolutely done with this place, and have been for almost one whole year.

Similar to the soul-sucking days of consulting, those in my surroundings have strived to show support during these times. Whether listening to my ceaseless rants, dissecting dilemmas that have somehow plagued me, and just interacting with me in a way that shows appreciation and acknowledgement, I am deeply grateful for it all. It's nice to know that humanity exists in this world, even if not within my immediate team.

​A small amount of anguish was released during a much overdue lunch walk with a coworker. The conversation comprised of future career plans, the unbelievable act of a team member failing to provide notice for a three-week long vacation and setting others as her out-of-office contact without discussion, and Roll Up The Rim insights.

I learned that Tim's Chai Oat Latte was far superior to their London Fog with Oat Milk. Their Double Chocolate Donut was much better than their Chocolate Glazed and much, much better than Chocolate Dip. It was also discovered that not all menu items were eligible to earn "rolls".

​With knee pain being persistent and progressively prominent, a physio appointment was booked for the next day. Driving to Markham after being placed on a three-week waitlist simply was not feasible. A clinic hidden within a pharmacy provided swift treatment coupled with convenience.

On my way back home, I couldn't resist attempting another Roll Up The Rim chance.

​Biscoff dipped in Chai Oat Latte proved a stellar pairing. Unfortunately, I lost all three rolls on this purchase.

​A Fruit Explosion was received in place of the supposedly discontinued Chocolate Hazelnut Muffin. The concoction was less desirable than in my childhood days, for recent iterations have omitted the slice of apple on the surface and increased the stabilizer content in the jam filling.

​With the exception of flights, setting my alarm for earlier than 7 AM hasn't happened for the past year. With an all-day training course scheduled to commence at 7:30 AM though, I found myself awaking groggy and irritable to pre-sunset hours.

I still arrived about ten minutes late, though the instructor was, thankfully, very friendly and lenient on latecomers.

​During the well-deserved one-hour lunch break, I hurriedly ate my pre-packed lunch and made my way over to Costco. Within forty-five minutes, I had somehow succeeded in completing the trip for paper towels and detergent.

By this point in time, I've mostly come to terms with how my work days will play out. This is, not to say, that the emotional rollercoaster has been integrated into daily routine - why, not at all! However, at the very least, I'm not astounded when the day begins to freefall from the unwanted involvement of a certain fatuous feculence.

​Maintaining positivity is an arduous task. Throughout the week, I struggled to keep my head above water. The responsibility matrix had been revised out of pure idiocy: an increased workload for me (which didn't even seem possible, but here we are!), the requirement to shift from an automated Excel tracker to the constrained format of a SharePoint list, and reinstatement of useless meetings that could assume format of a straightforward email. The apparent aim was to hinder progress by making more redundant work for everyone, eliminating written trails to prevent accountability, and exchanging words without advancing understanding.

I was even accused of being too prideful to ask questions - a claim to which I could only scoff and silently rage - in addition to being informed that I wasn't all-knowing. And although no one embraces fulsome knowledge about everything, I, at a bare minimum, can identify logical consistencies. As someone who is eager to learn, there is never a moment when I'm not seeking out additional details. But why would I need to ask questions when I simply have none? Why would I seek out vague, incomplete responses when I could obtain swift comprehensively using other methods? Why would I choose to be reliant when I have ability to be independent and productive?

It pains me to think that no one along the sidelines would see this: the insurmountable stress summoned by a selfish, incompetent manager.​

Throughout these ordeals, I've strived to find joy in the mundane.

Lunchtime chats with my Birthday Buddy was a healing exchange. Hearing her perspective affirmed a number of my suspicions, but also shed light on a different perspective: Many people would yearn to be in my position, even if the work itself wasn't fulfilling.
But I suppose I'm an ambitious character, or at least one that firmly believes obtaining a professional license wasn't to chip away at a cause that did not provide a sense of accomplishment or belonging. ​This was especially true when stifled by the reins of upper management.

Over the course of my ten months on the floor, an undeniable shift in food-sharing culture was witnessed. I relished in the exchange of gustatory opinions, and didn't hesitate to sneak away cookies of interest if spotted. Even senior members of staff had finally acknowledged my competence! "We might have gotten off on the wrong foot, but you're okay. You know your stuff. That's a compliment!"

These interactions were fleeting, yet nevertheless amounted to a supply of "small wins" that I frequently turned towards for support.

​On the second day of work the week, I lay low at home. While I'd normally venture towards the office, life had other plans in store.

A Costco run was executed in the early evening hours instead of pilates.

Constituting dinner was a Polish Hot Dog and thirty-five cent bottle of water. While in wait of my order, I gazed in the direction of the condiment section in a daze, wondering how on earth I'd be able to draw close without leaving my cart. It was then that I heard a "Boo!"; one of my colleagues happened to be shopping at the same time. She later told me that her daughter had marvelled at my hair for being "purple like Rumi's".
Again, the exchange was short-lived, but it confirmed I wasn't hated by all in the office, as much as my manager had endeavoured to construct the illusion.

One of my concert buddies joined me shortly after, enabling my escape for ketchup and relish. We then parted ways, resolving to meet at the cinema for the 7 PM showing of Stray Kids: The dominATE Experience. Miraculously, I managed an unplanned CoCo run and arrived to the bustling lot with several minutes to spare!

Due to a bathroom run, I missed the first two minutes of the show. When I returned, a handful of last-minute attendees were also just settling into their seats.

Ever since I finally conducted a comprehensive review of my pantry, the list of ingredients pending expiry have been on my mind. Among the assortment are various bags of nuts from Costco and graham crackers. While I've been tackling dry roasted, salted hazelnuts through granola and pecans through pecan pie, graham crackers have been used towards no-bake desserts. The most common application is a graham cracker crust.

​Chocolate Pudding Bars with Matcha Glaze

A) Graham Cracker Base

Ingredients:

• 400 g Honey Maid graham crackers
• 190 g unsalted butter, melted and cooled

For an 8-9 in cake or 8 in x 8 in square pan, I typically turn to my small but mighty 3-cup food processor - which has now doubled (!!!) in price due to inflation! It takes about two rounds to blitz 250 g worth of biscuits. This time, I opted for a larger food processor, as I was practically doubling the amount for a 9 in x 13 in pan.

Melted butter was then drizzled into the food processor and mixed until combined. The crumbs were transferred to a parchment-lined pan, pressed towards the edges, and transferred to the refrigerator to harden as I prepared the Chocolate Pudding base.

In theory, matcha-topped pudding bars seemed like a splendid idea. However, the custard recipe on the exterior of the Bird's Custard Powder can was not only bland and tacky, but lacking in sweetness as well. Sweetened chocolate whipped cream enabled a soft, mousse-like consistency and drastically improved complexity.
The glaze also adopted the yielding consistency and vivid, grassy hue that I had sought out. Unfortunately, due to my matcha being expired, grassy depth had been compromised in the output.

​My patience was rewarded the next morning: I could achieve crisp lines and neat squares. The only caveat: the bars needed to be stored in the freezer and thawed only before eating.

With insufficient thawing time, the graham cracker base would persist impossibly rigid. On the other hand, the top two layers were still tasty and even slightly reminiscent of an ice cream bar.

Due to deviations from regularly scheduled weekend programming that endangered my workout routine, I decided that booking a fitness class for the earlier hours of the day was the only guaranteed way to maintain activity levels. After all, who would want to lug themselves out of bed after a late night without reason?

While I would have preferred a drop-in dance class, options were incredibly limited before 5 PM. Sunday slots were even rarer for pilates studios, which tend to offer early morning weekend sessions or close for business altogether. Panda Pilates emerged as the only establishment operating on Sunday, thus persuading a 2-class intro pack for $60 plus tax. While skepticism was prominent, I convinced myself that this was a good opportunity to try a new studio.

​Traffic conditions along the restricted segments of Dundas Street are abysmal during weekday evenings, but weekend mornings were surprisingly smooth. Despite a delayed departure, the unbelievably swift 8-minute commute led to an early arrival.

The studio was located off a residential road with a sharp turn off Dundas. Had I not known of the studio location prior, I'd have easily missed the turn with impatient weekend drivers tailing behind me. Parking spaces were limited, but adequate for the limited commercial GFA on site.
​
After climbing the concrete steps towards the entrance, I was met with a reception desk, series of cubbies, coat rack with fabric hangers covered with hair, and the odd installation of a coffee bar, known as Panda Café. Outdoor shoes were to be removed and placed by the entrance. 
This landing area was the dirtiest I had ever seen and, unlike the boutique studios, the staff did not maintain the studio between class sessions, allowing debris and hair follicles to fall to the ground and remain as is. I grimaced while stepping over the dirt- and salt-speckled floor mat towards a basket of equally questionable slippers. Unlike other studios though, the edges of the slippers appeared fairly clean and free of grey borders.
Two dimly-lite bathrooms were found past the studio space. The design was minimal and serene, though its cleanliness merely passable. I did, however, enjoy the smart mirror and conveniently located hook against the wall instead of behind the door.

An unspoken reality, the social aspect of one's life suffers tremendously as one progresses in their career and goes on to pursue family life. Last year's employer swap brought about more physical, emotional, and mental detriment than I could have put into words. While tensions in the working environment have eased slightly with diminishing involvement of an incompetent "people leader" - oh, how I scoff at this term! - my weekends remain hectic. There is simply not enough time to complete chores, engage with those around me, and live life.

Yet I hesitated not in agreeing to weekend hangouts when the invites were extended.

The first was a dinner-and-darts gathering downtown. Pecan Pie was prepared in advance, though the box and celebratory accessories were not obtained until the day of.

​While I scrambled to ready myself for the long day ahead, my browsing partner assisted in procuring a pie box from bulk barn and a numbered sparkler candle from Dollarama. Alas, the hunt for the second numbered sparkler candle would continue as we chanced across more Dollarama outposts.

A stopover in Etobicoke allowed me to peruse the nearest Dollarama. In the absence of sparkler candles, I hurriedly took to a rhinestone-studded Happy Birthday topper. We then detoured through Walmart for indoor plumbing facilities and a lunch of Junior Chicken and, dare I say, awfully dismal Poutine. The cheese curds weren't squeaky; the gravy was tacky and extraordinarily salty. Even the franchise's signature fries had lost their appeal being slathered in unwarranted extras.

​I resolved to park at The Well, for majority of the day's activities would take place in the vicinity.

Since my last visit, a handful of new retailers have eased their way into the mixed-use complex. Amongst them were makers-type spaces for local artists, the REFORMD studio by Lagree in partnership with Sweat & Tonic, Muji, Mr. Surprise and its Catchawee photobooths (two present, but only one functioning), and, most notably, new additions to the Wellington Market.

​Kao Kang by Koh Lipe boasted an impressive selection of Southeast Asian-inspired ice cream flavours and treats. Meanwhile, the expanded section of Wellington Market welcomed an extremely compact photobooth, The Carvery's meat roast sandwiches, and even a THC consumables retailer. East Tea Can was unfortunately no more, as the storefront had been reinstated to a blank canvas ready for the next leasee.

Swift footsteps enabled us to cover almost all three levels in under an hour. I pointed out Japadog's West Coast/East Coast menu deviations to my browsing partner, and offhandedly mentioned my interest in multicoloured offerings from The Samosarie, though dismissed the eye-catching specimens on the basis of spice.

I returned to the office in an awfully haggard state. Needless to say, I wasn't the only one. There were also plenty of technical difficulties experienced with the first meeting of the year.

​However, I am glad to report that, despite the undesirable conclusion of the winter holiday, seeing familiar faces made for a pleasant time. Cookies were presented and rapidly depleted by fellow floor members, while excited exchanges took place about the past two weeks. I even received a new year gift of Läderach and magnet stickers from a lovely coworker!

The lunchtime mall walk led to several new discoveries:

• The Bakers, a Middle Eastern bakery, had replaced Bingz in the food court

Presumably a recent addition given its cleaner quarters, I excited flipped through the frame options. The New Year frames piqued my interest immediately, and I swiftly convinced my coworker to join me. In the absence of hooks, our winter jackets were hung on the ends of the curtain rod for the duration of the session.

The day passed quickly, and I eventually found myself acting upon my craving for a 3 Guys from CoCo. Naturally, I took advantage of their January promotion of 2 for $10. ​A hot variation was bestowed upon my browsing partner.