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A lovely, sunny weekend has given way to an abysmally cloudy Monday. At least it feals abysmal. Though we really should keep perspective, here, because they’re forecasting high ‘teens for the reast of the week, along with lots of sun. Yesterday was a truly summer-feeling day, a very foreign sensation given that we’ve suffered a bitterly cold and long winter followed by a unseasonably cold and wet spring.

Yesterday I was at the University of Mantioba campus to watch a friend perform at the Manitoba rhythmic gymnastic provincials, and in a shady spot next to a large tyndall stone building remained a significant pile of snow, left over from winter parking-lot clearing. Rebecca and Chantal found it irresistible and made and threw some snowballs at Sabrina. Yes, snowballs in May. That’s Winnipeg. (I was complicit in the attack — I caught it on video and it’ll be in the May video scrapbook, which will appear in roughly seven days!)

Another highlight of the weekend was a trip to a foreign part of the city. Foreign to me, I should qualify. Raised in the south end of the city, I rarely get to the far north corners and so they hold a good amount of novelty and curiosity for me. The occasion in this case was Cynara’s need to return to her homeland of Transcona for a brief bit of banking at her home credit union. I came along for the ride, and on our way back to the city’s centre, where we live, Cynara said, “Look, there’s the butcher with the cows on the roof!” Now, I am definitely unfamiliar with much of the ways and places of Transcona but Sausage Makers I know. I’m not sure how they came to be such fans of the place, but my parents have long been extremely keen on the buckwheat sausage and Kaessler pork chops from there.

So when Cynara mentioned the cows, I was all, “CAN WE GO THERE, PLEASE?” and I called my parents. My dad picked up the phone, and when I asked if he wanted anything, his tone of voice immediately brightened and he said, “Oh! Let me get your mom. Heidi! Do we want anything from Sausage Makers?”

I took their order, and Cynara, Derek and I went inside. It was my first visit to the actual place, and it was hectic! I am very unfamiliar with ordering meats from a butcher directly but I muddled my way through. (“Six Kaessler, please.” “How thick?” “Um… the normal thickness?”)

I also obtained some marzipan, another German staple, and Cynara got some German chocolate-covered gingerbread (I could’ve spent half an hour browsing all the specialty import foods they have in addition to the meat).