Way back when I was in high school, I founded the Pink Ladies Club. It was, and still is, a very exclusive club. There are only five members -- myself and my four younger sisters.
In the early years, official club activities consisted of going to 7-11 for slushies and pulling pranks on non-members (like the time we ran a pair of my brother's tighty whities up a flag pole). We set up a donation box in the front hallway of our house, and held secret meetings in the basement.
But the club kind of fizzled out after we got older and left home for university. So we started having an Annual General Meeting during the Christmas break instead. I'd send out the invitations and write up an agenda about a month in advance. I'd also arrange to have a keynote speaker address the club (usually my mom or dad). We talk about lots of things during the meeting (most of which is too R-rated for this G-rated blog).
We held this year's AGM at the Sheraton Hotel on Queen Street last night (much more civilized than the time we rented an unheated yurt in Algonquin Park and froze our asses off in minus 30 degree weather).
Being the oldest, and therefore the most responsible, I cleared everyone's calendars, booked a room, and planned the agenda. We checked in yesterday afternoon. Or I should say, I checked in while everyone else hid in the lobby (the rate was based on a two-person occupancy).
We then went skating across the street at City Hall. I spent most of my time colliding into little kids. I haven't quite mastered the stopping thing. At a rink, I just slam into the boards if I need to stop. But outdoors, there are no boards to slam into. Only little kids.
Citytv was there doing a story about the bitterly cold weather. We tried to get on camera but they didn't think the Annual General Meeting of the Pink Ladies Club was newsworthy. Or at least not as newsworthy as the fact it was cold outside on Dec. 26 in Toronto.
Skating was followed by a swim in the outdoor pool. We even had a long soak in the hot tub despite my horror stories about the vile stuff I pulled out of the hot tub filters when I worked at the Sheraton as a teenage lifeguard. (Thankfully, they had replaced the hot tub since I had left so I didn't have any nasty dead skin, hair, condom flashbacks.)
No one liked my suggestion of sneaking into the staff cafeteria for some curried goat. (The best part about working at the Sheraton was that we got one free meal a day in the staff cafeteria, usually curried goat. I was feeling nostalgic.)
So we ordered pizza instead. Since the phone in our room wasn't working, we missed the pizza guy the first time he came by. He came back with our cold pizza an hour later after I figured out that the phone wasn't working. The people at the front desk turned him away when they couldn't get through to our room. At least we got free room service dessert because of the screw up.
I'm worried I've raised the bar a little too high. Now I'm not sure how we can top our night at the Sheraton next year.