And can I tell you first hand? It. Is. Killer. I about died when our friends suggested we go to a poutinery. I thought they were trying to be all, "hey gullible Americans, haha, let's go to a poutinery." Because, right. "THOSE EXIST, eh. wink, wink."... But really, they are too polite to pull one over on us. Poutinery's exist. WHO KNEW!
Random aside: speaking of gullible Americans. We are THOSE one's. The one's who happened to make the brilliant mistake of taking out American cash on our way to the airport to go to Canada. Right. You know, Canada, where they apparently ONLY accept Canadian money. It's a fact. Learn it. And there's your lesson for the day, interwebs.
Moving on. So. The first stop across the Canadian border Friday night was at the Poutinery (while waiting for our real dinner of sushi to be prepared). My SQUUEEEEEE was barely containable... I just stood in front of "Frenchy's Poutinery" in gleeful amazement.
*happily inhaling poutine, which is french fries smothered in delicious gravy and cheese curds*
Oh, Canada... I miss you already. I've already screamed twice this morning over the fact I couldn't have Tim Horton's coffee and 'Tim-Bits' to start my day.
Race report from Detroit Freepress Half and pictures coming soon. As a preview, I absolutely adored this race, it was incredibly fun. With the bonus that my hip, point of fact, didn't fall off!