Wednesday I was worried I wouldn't get to the airport on time. I got there early and nothing on the airport radio system about flights made me think my husband's flight would be late. After waiting nearly an hour (and not having my cell phone with me) I contacted my in-laws but he hadn't called them. Imagining the worst, and not being able to find a general information desk, or anyone at the Air Canada counter, I went home. In the best case scenario, the flight arrived early, he couldn't reach me on the cell phone, and he took a taxi home. He'd be waiting outside since he didn't have his house keys. Tears are streaming down my face thinking that the last record I have of his voice is on my work phone mail, and cops are everywhere making me really nervous about speeding. He wasn't there and the Air Canada web site indicated his flight would be arriving in 10 minutes. I went back to the airport. I didn't see him so I went to the baggage claim area. I felt his arms reach around me while he teased me about being impatient. He couldn't understand why I was bawling like a little heartbroken kid. It took a while for the luggage to get distributed. We picked up Wendy's and went home. He lost his passport and said if he hadn't gone into the special line he might have been in the customs line for well over 2 hours. It seemed like all of the flights were delayed out of Toronto.
We watched Big Brother so I would know who won and I unpacked his things. I found his passport with his goodie bag. One of the neat things about TIFF is that they give goodie bags to people that arrive early for their tickets, etc. Since he's been going to the press screenings he's gotten some nicer goodie bags than we got in the past. For instance, last year the goodies came in a backpack and this year they came in a tote bag.
Thursday was more catching up on tv programs and so was Friday. Yesterday we saw The Black Dahlia and went to the family owned Chinese restaurant for dinner. It's so hard to believe their son is in the 5th grade. I remember when his mother used to talk about him being just a few years old.
Lunch at Schmidt's was a treat and a little weird too. Our wattress had an accent I couldn't place and kept referring to my friend and I as m'lady. We went to the fudge shop where a father and son were working. The young man had a definite German accent while the father didn't quite have one. German Village has so many non-Germans living there now I wasn't expecting it.