Assigning Nicknames;The Best Breakfast of My Entire Life; A Rude Awakening; Perhaps a New Calling; Followed by a Bad Joke; and a Greeting Card

As you may have noticed real live people that appear on the blog regularly have nicknames. I suppose that Triple C. was the first, but then there has been a steady accumulation. The Emperor and E.H.B. are two that immediately come to mind. F guy is one from earlier posts. There are several reasons for this whimsey. Affection being one; but the other is to protect the privacy of individuals. It is one thing for me to invade my privacy through the blog but those around me should not be exposed to scrutiny. The list is growing behind the scenes and soon I will have to have a Cast of Characters which shall be neatly penned and placed in the safe in my room. Do I have a safe in my room? Of course, this is, after all, the Trump International Hotel. At the present time anyway, as the attempt to convert it into the Alexis Castle and Tower, Vancouver has not reached fruition. 

Yesterday morning I had the best breakfast of my entire life at the Mott 32 Breakfast Buffet. It was yummy beyond belief but, as I said, if I did it every morning I would weigh 300 pounds. It began with congee (which I know how to make actually) then veered off to sausage, bacon, eggs, cheese, fruit, no vegetables, and ended with Salmon Benedict. The wonderful weather allowed this repast to be enjoyed outdoors. What a way to start the day! Actually that is not factually correct as I started the day writing the blog, sending it off to Chris in London and practically falling off the seat in the restaurant upon seeing it was already posted. Good Job Chris! 
Then cousin Carol-Ann and friend Angela came to visit and we had, altogether, the best time ever. Triple C. suggested the menu be ordered from room service so we could enjoy the view from the 19th floor. It was a great idea and required no effort on my part. Well picking up the phone but that was easy enough. The sparkling rose was a nice touch. At this moment you should be bracing yourself for the rude awakening. Here it comes. 
Although Carol-Ann and I are cousins we Dryburgh girls are not typical run of the mill cousins in that we all barely know one another. In our particular instance, Carol-Ann is at least fifteen years younger than I am and I left for California when I was twenty-four (never looking back). We never saw one another until a fateful day in 2011 in Abbotsford, B.C. (You are going to have to buy the book to learn more about that). But despite that absence, Carol-Ann had (and had) a particular impression of me. It was that I was fiercely ambitious. This does come as a huge surprise to me.(a rude awakening is an exaggerated way of saying huge surprise). Now, to be clear, I do not necessarily differ with this impression but what surprises me is that I did not see this in myself. It is also important to point out that I am definitely a self-examiner, often with the help of trained therapists. Or, in other lay terms, I overthink. How did I miss this? While in California a few weeks ago an old friend described me as Driven. 

Me: Really? Driven? All the time you have known me?

He: Yes, Alexis. All these last fifty years. 

Me:(after considerable thought) I guess I know what you mean.

But what Carol-Ann told yesterday is that this fierce ambition has been with me for much longer. That constituted a rude awakening.   
Then this happened. Carol-Ann and Angela were catching the Sky Train home and I escort them to the door (of my home as a charming hostess just called this area). The Emperor was there and I introduced him to my “real family.” He shook his head, laughed and said that I was going to be mayor of Vancouver in a couple of years because I talked to EVERYBODY. I said: “I think in a year.” Because, eerily, what The Emperor did not know is that I had already formed that ambition four days ago. I had told no one of this secret ambition. I almost fainted. 
Then later that evening I met this wonderful couple in ‘my home”. She offered to translate by blog into Chinese. Honest to goodness. You see how important that could be? There needs to be collaboration to make this city great. Collaboration between the cultures. 
It is too scary to be talking about this. Chappie (a nickname) told this great joke. “Why does a giraffe have a long neck? “It is because his head is a long way from his body.” I think it is an example of British humor. I quite love it. 
Then Carol-Ann gave me a totally appropriate birthday card. It says on the outside: “I once read about a lady who would make ice cubes out of leftover wine. I never knew that was possible. The inside said: To have leftover wine, I mean. Cheers to you on your birthday.” Carol-Ann wrote: “Happy Birthday, Cousin and may the year ahead be filled with blog worthy joy. 
How perfect! Tears come to my eyes. 
The picture appended in this blog is of breakfast. One of the two is me and the other is variously known as The Posh Prince or as he calls himself: My Future Ex Husband. (That would be number four, but who is counting?)

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