Seven years ago, I attended the wedding of my Birthday Buddy's sibling. Now, on a gusty April day, it was her turn to walk down the aisle.

​Heading towards Burlington harbour, the weather was an unthinkable mix of rain, hail, snow, sun, and wind. Canadian springs tend to be unpredictable, but to experience three seasons over the span of one hour was unthinkable.

​Leading up to the occasion, my head of faded, straw-like strands were restored with a fresh round of purple dye and hydrating treatment. A dusty pink, floor-sweeping gown made its debut, as did a pair of white strappy heels that I had hurriedly purchased just two days in advance upon realizing an absence of appropriate footwear in my shoe closet.

We - or rather, I - arrived just in time for the ceremony. In the absence of on-site parking, my browsing partner missed the vow exchange, creeping in quietly towards the midway mark.

After a round of photos with the newlywed couple, we filed into the hallway, gradually making our way towards the bar and reception area. Along the corridor were hidden doors: one for the coat check and another for the bathrooms. Nearby kitchen access would facilitate delivery of hors d'oeuvres to the bar area.

We queued for the photobooth first, then meandered over for drinks. Offerings were varied and splendid, ranging from classic cocktails to craft beer to wine from Cave Springs. I pointed towards the Chardonnay without a moment's hesitation, while my browsing partner sought a virgin Margarita. 

​It was an intimate wedding, with the attendee count hovering around fifty. Most of the attendees were already long-time friends. It was amusing that I knew most of them by name or face, and them me, yet our paths hadn't crossed prior to this day.

Due to my perpetual lack of punctuality, I had rushed into the hotel to ensure arrival by the ceremony start time, consequently neglecting admiration of the hotel atmosphere. Featuring large windows, a carpeted stairwell, and a dangling, bulb-shaped chandelier, The Pearle was a truly breathtaking venue. (It was merely a shame that my browsing partner had not taken the opportunity to capture any images of my elaborate ensemble!)

​We filed into the reception hall just before 5 PM. A sea salt-speckled brownie cookie and handwritten name card welcomed each guest into their seat. 

The day commenced with a bloodwork appointment, followed by a Timmies run. My browsing partner was enlisted as the day's chauffeur, giving rise to unexpected escapes from the parking lot (which meant I had to wait in place) and irritable behaviour when rushed. While the sequence of planned activities flowed flawlessly in my mind, it inadvertently gave rise to a constant sense of urgency - an element that I neither mind nor dislike.

​Within the first half of the approximate hour-long drive to Markham, a BLT Artisan Sandwich and Peach Lemonade Quencher was enjoyed from the passenger seat.

The motivation behind the mid-week day off was an appointment at The Grand Medical Aesthetic Clinic. Booked approximately one month ago, the session would mark the first of a series of pricey laser treatments.
I had assumed the aesthetic clinic to be located within New Kennedy Square, but was proven wrong when Google Maps uttered its despicable wrong turn notification sound. After looping around the block, it was learned that GMA Clinic was located off a dead-end side street at the rear of New Kennedy and accessible only via Hwy 7 eastbound.

GMA Clinic occupied the unit closest to the entrance of the commercial plaza. Upon entering, I was warmly welcomed into the space and greeted by the lady who had conducted my virtual consultation. Before commencing treatment, I was required to complete a series of forms corresponding to each treatment. Washrooms were also utilized during this time; much to my horror, the unisex facilities (Yes, there were male clients as well.) were not maintained well despite the prices of their services. A spider was spotted crawling along the edge of the cabinets, there were water stains and dust in the corner, the toilet seat was spotty, and rustiness was forming along the caulking of the tiles.

My technician introduced herself before guiding me towards the treatment room. Unknown to me at the time of appointment booking, the numbing cream required 20-30 minutes to take effect. The lower limit of 20 minutes was to ensure coverage for the first treatment of Yellowbeam, however the technician adhered to the upper limit of 30 minutes as to enable continued numbing effects for both Yellowbeam and Picosure treatments. The mandatory downtime extended the total appointment time to well beyond the reserved hour. This process was unexpected, for Ocean Clinic in Gangnam moved extremely quickly with seemingly no downtime whatsoever. While the Korean numbing cream was likely more potent, the rushed procedure had likely attributed to a comparatively painful turnout. Application of GMA's version resulted in a tingling sensation followed by numbing. My upper lip persisted a bid uncomfortable, akin to when anesthesia had been injected for removal of wisdom teeth.

A playlist titled "Pop Sings" played throughout the treatment. It comprised of well-known tunes that were, interestingly, not performed by the original artist. Navigating between the Yellowbeam and Picosure lasers was a swift process. Yellowbeam was largely painless, but concentrated flashes of Picosure could be felt even with the numbing cream. For the full face Picosure segment, the technician handed me a tube to adjust the direction of cool air being blown towards my face during treatment.

The session concluded with a soothing sheet mask and thorough application of moisturizer and sunscreen. Within the first few minutes afterwards, my skin flared up in red patches. I requested a mask from the front desk before departing, as I wasn't particularly keen on debuting such a wild appearance in public. ​For future visits, I ought arrive with a mask, visor, headband, and wide-necked top in tow.

My browsing partner came to pick me up after provision of a ten minute notice. We headed to Markville, with me dodging any and all sun exposure with an umbrella positioned closely to my face. Within an hour, my skin calmed down significantly. My freckles became darker and my cheeks ached, but the experience didn't come even remotely close to the excruciating nature of mole removal at Ocean Clinic.

Read Part 1 HERE !

​We found clooodles then browsed the Eaton Centre for a while longer, patiently awaiting the arrival of a Lion Dance outside Simons. When neither drums nor lions were observed even thirty minutes past the specified start time, I made the decisive choice to head towards ROM before losing more time.

​Line 1 whisked us towards Museum station in fifteen minutes. Consequently, we stepped foot into the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibit by 3:10 PM.

​I was initially perplexed to see that the exhibit had been relocated to the fourth floor from the third. Navigating the corridors in high traffic was arguably easier, though the space did not allow for maximization of the photos on display. Furthermore, the dim environment and lightbox-backed descriptions accompanying each image rendered the text impossibly hard to read.

Albeit the grander display, I found the exhibit less enthralling than past years given the reduction in photo count and higher number of visiting bodies.

​The Crawford Lake exhibit was another POI of mine. While my browsing partner had warned me of its minor scale beforehand, my excitement had not waned.

Its location within the European Rotating Exhibitions space was peculiar and unfitting, for I had believed nature-related installations to best suit the second floor. Spanning no more than one room, the content was indeed found to be forgettable and remarkably commonplace. Stepping foot into the exhibit was less informative than undertaking a hike within the GTA.

We both expressed interest in the upcoming Shokkan exhibit, currently scheduled for opening on April 4, 2026 as per the Royal Ontario Museum's website.

Before departing, I conducted a swift tour about the first floor First Peoples Art & Culture exhibit.

​Our ROM stopover concluded sooner than expected, which paved the way for further exploration west of the downtown core. I led the way to photoism first. Then we retraced our steps towards U of T grounds.

The journey by foot led to a number of personal recollections, none of which were collectively shared. While my browsing partner reminisced about convocation days and boarding the inter-campus shuttle, I recalled sweltering cycling trips and perusal of eateries in the vicinity.

​In due time, we arrived at ChaTruMue. Considering that Thai cuisine has the potential to pose health risks, a dedicated Thai Tea establishment was deemed the safest method of enjoying Thai Tea together.

The Toronto flagship incorporated two ordering kiosks, separated seating areas, and wall-side merchandise display in a narrow space. Mirrors were used to give the illusion of spaciousness.

Itinerary-making is an aptitude I hadn't considered grand or commendable. 

How hard is it to do logistics? One decides on the points of interest, maps them out, and determines the viability of the route based on constraints. Amusingly, discussions with others in my surroundings concluded that it was a mightier effort than most preferred to engage.

A downtown day had been hinted when cloooodles noted her next live drawing event to be at "the end of the month downtown". I was eager to align this day with my browsing partner's return, promptly introducing another time-sensitive agenda item.

The geographic boundaries of the outing were established when Hey Tea's final week of grand opening promotions was expressed as an event of interest.
In order to make all the agenda stops though, the day would need to commence early. After all, I wasn't about to miss the Textile Museum's operating hours nor desired to rush for the Wildlife Photographer exhibit.

​The proposed departure time was 8:30 AM, but ultimately leaned closer to 9:20 AM due to extenuating circumstances on my part. Thankfully, early weekend morning traffic was extremely forgiving and we arrived at the designated parking within 40 minutes.

At 9:55 AM, we spotted the queue for Hey Tea forming outside the store, then promptly joined it. During this time, staff delineated the line to prevent blockage of the mall corridors as best as possible.

​During our time in line, we were presented with promotional posters outlining the eighteen days' worth of grand opening events as well menu items limited to the heytea Lab locations. Exclusives were identified by their black cup and numbered notations of "3.3", "5", and "0".

It was only natural to opt for the lab-limited concoctions. Although I couldn't be further from an enjoyer of "cloud"-topped beverages, the element assumed a heytea signature that ought be sampled while on the premises. We agreed on trying the Rock Oolong Caviar Tea and Gongfu 3.3.

About twenty minutes passed by the time we entered into the store. Merchandise such as incense sticks, ceramic tumblers, and matcha lined the tiered wooden shelves against the wall. I attempted to pick up the items for closer inspection, but found every single article firmly glued to its underlying surface - likely to prevent theft.

As we drew closer to the cashier, I caught sight of two ice cream makers churning away. One featured Rock Oolong Caviar at $7.50, while the other Matcha at $6.50. Rock Oolong Caviar was advertised as a collaboration with Chef Susur Lee and likely assumed the most popular pick of the Toronto Lab location. Curiosity was articulated to my browsing partner, who responded with, "Do you want to try?"
I debated the inquiry at first, for having ice cream before 11 AM felt strange. We had both eaten breakfast not too long ago and would have two creamy drinks in hand in the imminent future. Alas, the opportunity was too great to pass on: I nodded in affirmation.

During the event period, each drink purchase would enable one raffle draw. While we had our eyes on the branded merchandise, we both received a 15% off voucher for use before April 5th.

Approximately ten minutes passed before we received our drinks. Seating was quite limited, but turnover was thankfully quick. We briefly hovered about the self-serve bar, which provided lids, water, and a garbage receptable, before shifting towards the pick-up area to observe the drink preparation process.

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.

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.

As the final hours of 2025 inevitably draw closer, I am reminded of the noticeable deviation between my planned and actual progress. Circulating social media are reminders that mere survival is worth commending, and that even the small wins are worth celebrating. However much I may preach the same message to those experiencing feelings of unfulfillment, I am a hypocrite. Those same sentiments do not hold validity for me.

Whether it be described as unwavering determination or naïve, unrealistic ambition, I couldn't care less about the classification. What matters is that goals were made, but not all were achieved within the designated time frame.

Substantial setbacks were suffered when I departed the downtown core in favour of a work location closer to home. My commute improved drastically, effectively slashing the total travel time by one third, yet my physical, mental, and emotional states were subject to a harsh blow. Having breathed easy for the past two years, the change mimicked the torturous, traumatic days of private sector work. Many months would pass before I could stand on two feet again.

Just when I believed that brighter days were ahead, my world drowned with darkness. Loss of a loved one is never easy, but experiencing grief firsthand was yet another grueling challenge for the mind and body. And while I have come to terms with the new reality, it still feels surreal at times, knowing that what was once constant is no more. The event was a cold reminder that humans are mere mortals vulnerable to the brunt of time.

​Returning home, it dawned on me that Operation Clean The House would need to be rebooted, else it'd never take place. New horrors await in the new year, after all. An ominous feeling rooted deep within my heart also urged me to inherit and acquire (via skill) family recipes that could potentially be lost with further changes.

​Honey Date Tea / 杏仁蜜棗茶 has been my saviour for all throat-related concerns from youth. Albeit straightforward in its ingredient list, the procedure was supposedly time-consuming. Being presented with this tea time and time again without a recipe for repeatability, I deemed it appropriate to devise a written method for reference.

​While the tea sat atop the stovetop, simmering away for hours on the lowest heat setting possible, I went to work reorganizing my bakeware collection. Since the pandemic days, the assortment of pans, tools, and accessories have multiplied exponentially. Gradually, the chaos and inconvenience became too much to endure.

Shelves were procured from IKEA under the assumption that assembly would be straightforward. After three hours of scratched shelves and a shaky frame, I surrendered and sought help from TaskRabbit instead. In partnership with IKEA, the portal allowed users to find "neighbours" offering handyman services and request a time slot suitable for both parties.
For those with natural aptitudes at building or constructing, this service may not be relevant. However, in a society with an aging population, such personnel become extremely helpful to those without the inability to DIY.

​A small amount of cleaning was conducted, as was inspecting all areas for expired food.

The last few days of the year proceeded under anxiety. With the other member of the household still out of commission, the responsibility of survival operations fell upon my shoulders. Groceries and errands were completed in a hurry, followed by cooking. Within the span of an hour, four stops were completed; my browsing partner assisted with the remaining two, enabling commencement of sustenance preparation shortly after 11 AM.

Read Part 1 HERE !

​Hello Nori was my belated birthday dinner destination of choice - not that this was made known to my browsing partner beforehand. When the original plan of routing through the 100 Queen St W garage fell through due to City Hall's 6 PM closure, I descended down an alternative access to the PATH.
The stairwell and landing area did reveal any differences from when I had last commuted, however the internal corridors of the below-grade connections had undergone a dramatic facelift. The grungy environment was made brilliant with white tiling and marble walls. Seating had also been revamped with grey lounge chairs to appear more appealing and welcoming.

The section between Nathan Phillips and Hudson Bay went ultimately unexplored, for we turned into the Sheraton for lavatory facilities before continuing southbound towards York/Wellington.

Reservations were not supported by Hello Nori, thus we joined the queue and alerted the hostess upon arrival. She approximated a twenty-minute wait in consideration of the two parties ahead of us. While waiting, it dawned on me that eatery strictly utilized bar seating, without any private tables in the vicinity. Bags could be placed underneath the dining counter on one of the many double hooks installed underneath. Jackets could also be hung in the same location, though I took to the wonky, wobbly coat rack to prevent my sleeves from grazing my shoes and the floor.

Approximately fifteen minutes later, we were gestured towards two seats at the end of the U-shaped seating area closest to the waiting area. The hostess made certain to note the bar chair's swivel capabilities, as well as the height adjustment lever. I appreciated the ability to tailor the seating configuration to fit one's physical requirements, but appreciated the stool's built-in foot rest even more. Too often does a metal rod affixed to the bottom of the counter serve as a communal foot rest, and rarely does it accommodate my leg length.

​With Takeout and Dine In order slips placed along the length of the queue, we had plenty of time to review the restaurant's offerings prior to ordering. The menu was extremely compact, comprising of shareable portions of oshizushi and temaki (hand rolls) without a single side of greens in sight. Miso soup and edamame could be requested at four dollars each, though hearty options such as donburis were not to be found.
Hello Nori's signature selection of hand rolls could be requested in sets of 4 pieces, 5 pieces, and 6 pieces. Meanwhile, Aburi Oshi Sushi and Sashimi could be used to supplement the carb-heavy assortment.

​The hostess advised against ordering the 6-piece set, for most patrons find that they are unable to deplete it in its entirety. My browsing partner express dubiousness towards this suggestion, noting a decent appetite. We awaited for the waitress's rundown of the fixed menu and seasonal specials before placing our order.

View the full album HERE !

In the latter half of the week, I was feeling undeniably hoarse. I continued to screech through calls beyond the morning hours, then experienced ominous throat pain. There was also nausea, a mild cough, and loss of appetite - all of which pointed to a potential contraction of flu.

Weekend plans with my browsing partner became subject to review. The original itinerary was evaluated against my physical ability to execute the stops. Foregoing the last weekend of holiday festivities wasn't in the plans, so I was determined to power through a downtown day regardless.

​​​Departure was delayed as I scrambled to ready myself in nice attire for the rare outing. Contrasting against my preppy ensemble, my browsing partner arrived donning the usual casual pieces, which later proved to be insufficient in terms of providing warmth.

Signifying our arrival in the downtown core was none other than the sights of residents of the street. Little had changed since my transition away from Toronto, for the regulars remained perched in their usual spots, either sheltered under overpasses or huddled over air vents. Amusingly, one even had a tree, inclusive of ornaments and a single gift of Ensure.

​I was familiar with the Green P lot directly underneath City Hall from the perspective of a commuter, but never as a driver. Rates were reasonable, but only if not intending to stay past the 6 PM mark. Impark's Bell Trinity Square lot was the better option was all-day stays.

​Returning to Nathan Phillips Square instilled a sense of nostalgia. Suddenly, the lofty tree outside City Hall transformed into a photo-worthy attraction. The weekend had also summoned a different crowd (those without laptops) onto the premises.

We headed towards Eaton Centre via the Bay Street mid-block crossing. Candy Cane Lane assumed a popular photo stop for many visitors; while I'd normally stride past on my former lunch walks, I paused this time around to partake in photos and help others looking to capture the scene.

Our Eaton Centre objective was none other than the Holiday Light Show. Meandering towards the centre court, I caught sight of a cluster of police personnel huddled about a man outside Indigo. Passerbys were unable to view the man's face due from beyond the huddle, merely catching glimpses of disheveled hair and grunts. What a warm welcome to downtown!

Returning annually, the mall's Holiday Light & Snow Show had been elevated from previous years with the addition of Canadiana-themed projections and comparatively elaborate light configurations. Instead of operating at designated times on weekdays and weekends, the show had been rescheduled to illuminate hourly between mid-November and January 2nd, facilitating attendance accordingly.

​​With about four minutes to go, we hurriedly took our positions. Hovering by the third floor railings would provide unobstructed views and maintain ergonomic position of the neck, though I was keen on being enveloped in the artificial snow that would conclude the arrangement.

The sequence was undeniably better than past years, and rightfully crowned an attraction worth travelling for. Beyond its signature all-red appearance, the tree also transitioned between blue and purple! We were caught off guard by the abundance of fake snow, which clung to our hair and spectacles with no intention of detaching even with aggressive wiping.

When the need to visit the Downsview area crept up once more, I found myself contemplating lunch options in North York before heading back. Also imminent was the expiry of my Mister Wheel coupon, so I began to review eateries around the Yonge and Church/Churchill intersection.

Uninspired by ramen and abura soba (mazesoba's heavier, more satiating cousin) and eager to redeem a missed opportunity to try a culinary specialty, 555 Boat Noodles was the obvious choice.

The casual eatery had been closed during the Thanksgiving holiday, subjecting me to the grief of unbearably fiery kimchi bibimyeon at Nakwon Kisa Restaurant. While it was nonetheless a fun time reminiscing with a former colleague, the quality of the sustenance hardly justified its price.

It was just after 12 PM when we pulled into the North York area. Strolling south on Yonge, it was discovered that The Poke Box had replaced Sugar Marmalade's dingy, dim storefront with a fresh coat of vibrant, exotic pink paint. In addition, a blind box and keychain store by the name of Toys Collection had taken over the space left vacant by The Printing House.