Ongoing Adventures in Semi-Conciousness

I have been lucky enough to have a few Totally Perfect Moments© in the last few months or so. I have never stopped having them, but they've been frequent in the last few months. I had one on Christmas Eve, driving up to my dad's place. Having just found a totally appropriate gift at Starbucks, while treating myself (I NEVER buy expensive coffee) to a huge choclatey coffee-y thing, an drinking it and listening to Otis Redding and encountering no traffic on the completely new-snow white drive to my dad's place, to spend a profoundly peaceful and simple evening with my closest family.

I had it in West Palm in February, for just half an instant - floating on my back in the beautiful pool at Will Shriver's place around midnight on a warm night, and noticing there was a ring around the moon.

I had it during the third at the Raptors playoff game, before they lost it. Just the right amount of stoned to be thrilled with the colours and the noise, and focused enough to remain involved. Just looking around at the thousands of people, all in red and white and focusing incredible amounts of emotion on to someone during a free through, all suddenly (mostly) wanting the same thing - realizing that as humans, we collectively do some very bizarre things sometimes.

And now they come faster.

I had it a week after that, on one of the first warm nights of the year. The days were getting so long, and I managed to get my shit together enough to remember to bring my rollerblades with me to the studio. And I skated all the way out to where the path ends, along the beaches, and came back again. The sun was just about to really go down, long, hot, hard light, and the beach and boardwalk were totally packed with people. Families and runners and couples and dogs all over the beach, volleyball teams not quite ready to quit yet. And everyone was happy. We had the most snow in like a bazillion years this winter, the second largest recorded snowfall ever. People were starting to lose it, I swear to you. I certainly was thinking about it and feeling so happy to have the warmth back, I felt connected to everyone there because I think they were all thinking about it as well.

And then just a few weeks later, I had many in Arizona: riding half-drunk through a dimly lit (light laws), cookie-cutter, mayonnaise coloured subdivision to pool hop on a hot night in my bare feet. Reaching the Robber's Roost easily in Sedona after being terrified I might not be able to hack the hike with all the gear, fresh off scaling around the most precarious climbing situation I'd ever encountered (adrenaline), to discover a perfect sunset. Sleeping on a hot rock by a cool river, in the shade of something at least 30 miles from anything.

And two weeks later, today, first significant period of time to myself in five days or so, forecast of thunderstorm but actually bright sun and lots of thick white clouds. Internal alarm clock functioning beautifully all of the sudden, up in time to throw on shorts and a tank top (because it's 22 degrees out) and get the bike my upstairs neighbor left me, the shitty old racing bike that is just somehow totally appropriate, out of the basement. Far more gracefully than I did when I last did this a week ago. Right music, right temperature, right route. Right song while on the right road, bright sun through huge patchy maple trees, a good buzz, fresh eggs waiting at home, and the pièce de résistance: a slight breeze and a huge shower of glittery green maple keys. The sudden recollection that I actually do live in a beautiful neighborhood in a beautiful city. And it's almost summer.

1. The best moments - the ones that leave behind the sweetest memories - are usually free.
2. A clear conscience and a resolved mind yield the most peaceful sleep.
3. Saying "yes" to the things you fear out of self-doubt or pessimism is the only way to avoid regret - and the shortest route to true joy. Be brave. Try everything.
4. The greatest gift you can give someone is your undivided attention.
5. You can choose the life you want. All things are possible.

When I was 17, I spend my second summer in the Abruzzo studying art at a University in a mountain village called L'Aquila. Just like the previous year, I was living in a tiny little room and had no license and no car. I met an Italian ex-chef, then armani-model named Mario who had a moped and this ancient little house on the edge of the village with a huge vegetable garden and spent the rest of my summer living a dream life between life drawing and oil painting classes, eating exquisite food on his terrace and seeing more of the country than I could have ever imagined from the back of a moped. He spoke a bit of English and endeavored to teach me Italian, and by the end of the summer we communicated beautifully and were completely in love and he quite expected me to stay I think, but I was starting college and I left and I we spoke once after, but never again.

Six years later, he's found me on myspace.

I had my consult at the dentist today, finally. The office is at Bloor and St. George, in the medical arts building, which is very old and charming. It's pretty spartan and plain, but I learned pretty quickly that the money they make is going right into dental technology. The dentist looked about 25 or 26, and maybe 110 pounds soaking wet. She was very sweet, very gentle, and very funny. She just looked today, took measurements and pictures and x-rays (all digital - amazing!!)

My teeth are fine. She asked why I was so sure I was going to need fillings and crowns and root canals, was I having any pain? She made me feel better before she even saw my teeth. I admitted I was feeling the same, I just was so scared! In the end, everything was fine. Lots of tartar and plaque and the same gum problems as ever, but no cavaties, no gum disease, no root problems. She is even pretty sure my wisdom teeth are never going to appear (or need to come out). My bone density was "okay", but she says it can be fixed. So all I need is some cleaning, and one cavity fixed. 300$ tops.

So that is great.

One sort-of bad thing; Justin cannot take a week off from now until the end of the season. So our vacation plans have gone down the tubes, unless the season starts strangely late. Justin is awesome, though, and says he knows how badly I need the vacation, and should feel more than welcome to go on a vacation on my own, or with a friend - although he's miss me and will be very jealous. He is right, of course, in that I do terribly need the vacation and some sun. We are planning a trip with another couple in October, and he says he is happy to wait until then. He has of course been on vacation for over 5 months, and would probably prefer a trip at the end of his work-period rather than right at the beginning.

And it just occured to me while I write this; the solution to all the problems I was planning to have with this in this very paragraph. Being afraid to be bored, lonely, where is it safe to be alone as a woman, feeling guilty about being indulgent.... but I just realized there is a single solution to all those problems.

I'm going to go to fucking surf school.

A crazy few days we've had. We've been home very little and slept even less.

My week ended quietly enough. More jobs are coming in weekly. We passed on a job for the first time - luckily to a someone who needed it. It's been a tough week in that we are doing a large job for a government extension, so there is an endless cycle of confirmation, approval, revision... it's a red-tape jungle that we are fighting through slowly. The agency is not much help a this point and is really on there as a courtesy and a work-around.

We left the city on Friday evening with Kelso and A.J. and headed to J-ro and Veronica's place in Burlington. A good night. Poker, lots of drunken Wii playing. We made good use of Jeff's new recording studio to write and record a fun song about robots. I was preoccupied a bit. We have had so many people in our lives lose loved ones this week. It was hard to celebrate. We did out best.

When we were all living in Oakville, it wasn't so tough having J-ro and V live in Burlington. Not far, a fifteen minute stretch of highway. But we've all headed eastward into the city, so now when they host a party, it's an implied sleepover. Four in the basement, four in the living room, two in the guest bedroom, and Jeff and V in their own room, of course. Veronica is the ultimate host, fresh towels, hash browns, and sausages in the morning.

Incredibly, everyone woke up by 10:00 a.m, well-rested and in a good mood. Jeff and V graciously fed us all a good breakfast and everyone started to trickle out on their way. Justin gave orientation to all the new recruits at St. George's yesterday afternoon, and headed out to do that. Veronica, Brandi, and I had other plans - we showered up and headed out the door in some pretty questionable outfits. One hour and a single border crossing later, we were at the Walden Galleria - I'd never been. I dropped 50$ at Delia's on some pretty basic stuff, but skipped Macy's all together because I spend the rest of my US dollars in the next store we went into. I came home with some great and unique pieces. It is all very well and good to shop at H&M but every single person that comes through the studio will look just like me. It is fun to have some stuff that I haven't seen around. Great purchases included a really great red trench coat, a great green cord blazer, and the star item: a pair of rubber rain boots (complete with baby blue buckles around the tops). Navy blue, covered in white anchors. So cute and unwearable - but we have already planned two camping trips for the next few months, and there is nothing better to wear around a campsite. They are absolutely practical, and I don't think I can stand Suzanne rolling her eyes at me one more time: "Where are your boots!?!??! What do you mean you don't have any?!?!"

Lunch at a strategically placed Olive Garden. Holy shit, hadn't eaten there since I was 9. We went for the crack-cocaine breadsticks and it was insanely worth it. It was just as packed as can be - a 25 minute wait by the time we left, 4:30 in the afternoon! So incredibly busy, and so incredibly pedestrian but oh man, my lunch was pretty tasty. And ten dollars.

We did some quick mental math in the parking lot: find a shopping bag containing no more than 50$ worth of merchandise. Leave it as it is. Wear every single other thing you want to bring back over the border. I tossed the 3.50$ flip flops I'd bought just for this occasion into the dumpster and donned my shiny new super-boots and red coat. Very chic. Brandi and Veronica were equally mismatched and amused. The cross back over into Canada was easy enough... the border guard was about 16 and didn't ask many questions. They way in had been pretty brutal - the US guard asked me some very pointed questions about my last trip to the states. "Why were you here in August? Where were you going? Why on earth did you go there? How did you come to have a cottage there? Family? Are your parents American Citizens? Then what family?" I frantically struggled to answer his questions, and had trouble remembering where we had crossed over. Was it Quebec? Yes, but where? Montreal? Did we come back through Lewiston? There was another moment of breathlessness when Veronica expressed audible and obvious surprise when he addressed Brandi as Allison - she had never told us she went by her middle name.

But the way back was the one that mattered and we shared a "lol, smugglers hi-5" as we drove through Niagara Falls. I think we were over the allowance by about 20$ a person, but hell, I'd never done that before. Even if you stayed below the allowance, it would still be worth it. We all got an incredible amount of stuff for really great prices. Totally worth the half-tank of gas.

I've got to head up to the grocery store soon. I'll make Justin throw on sweats and come too... he can't sleep forever. A four day week ahead, thank goodness for that.

Ugh. UGH. It was a long end to the week.

Wednesday, it finally began. It's funny, we'll shoot for a month straight, three to four days a week. Just a constant stream of photography; corporate, studio portraits, promos, everything - yet no one will order a single file. And then they all need them at the same time. It kind of starts like a huge wave. At first you just hear it in the distance, you realize that in order to come through and deliver for the last two clients that called you need to start working right away and not stop until five. And then you see the wave, it gets bigger, more people start calling "by tomorrow morning, by friday, as soon as humanly possible," and you start frantically calling everyone and reminding them: "WE JUST WANTED TO REMIND YOU ALL POST-PRODUCTION REQUIRES A TWO-BUSINESS DAY TURNARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" and then it's washing over you and you are so, completely screwed and it's too late.

I frantically photoshopped file after file, pre-press and retouching at least a hundred images with varying level of complexity while I listened to Mr. and Mrs. Big booking us for all the work they had worried for years would never come. Everyone is completely afraid to say it still, but we're going to be fine. We're making money again. The slump started to die a few months after I got there, and we are actually starting to turn down jobs because we are just too busy.

I worked non-stop from 9 - 6 or so on Wednesday, worked out, and came home. We hung out here for a while, and then headed out for Chris Connor's birthday. Chris and Nick are brothers, and two of our favourite friends. Nick started at St. George's the same time as Justin, and they have been great friends ever since. Chris is his brother, and a welcome addition to every situation. We head out to see the LMT Connection at the Orbit Room with them at least once every six weeks, and that night we went for Chris' birthday. It was an incredible show, as always. Leroy knows us all at this point, and always comes over to shake hands with the gentlemen and give me a kiss. We had reserved tables, and Nick and I had a great time, just blissed out on the banquette, listening to him play an incredible solo on Stormy Monday. Blunts off the back roof-top patio with the rest of the regulars between sets, and a good time had by all. We made a night of it, cabbed there and back and I even booked off Thursday morning.

It's such a good night out to have, and you can spend as much or as little as you like. It's 8 bucks to get in, and if that's all you want to spend, you're fine. Drinks are moderately priced, and it's enough to just sit and listen to them play. But I love it because it's an excuse for everyone to get a little bit dressed up, and to let loose in the middle of the week. The first set is usually so bluesy, but Leroy Emmanuel is probably one of the most talented local guitarists, and it just rips. The crowd is incredibly mixed, but is almost completely made up of music industry folks: producers, session musicians, the odd recording artist (while we try hard and silently in the corner to not freak the fuck out), even staff from schools like Juliard, and from as far as Detroit. Everyone else is either from the television and film industry, or with people who are. Everyone is super friendly and laid back. The second and third sets are always much more funk/motown based, and the dancing is so incredible. Anyone from out of town who comes to visit us mid-week, or like Justin's little brother, who came for his first real exposure to Toronto, gets taken and the jaws always hit the floor. I was devastated when I took Katie - Leroy was out that night. Joel Parisienne on the E3 played instead, but he is not a 65 year old black man on a '65 Gibson 335. He's a 25 year-old white boy on an organ and although he does the funk well, and can beat-box like no ones, it just doesn't have the same soul. He's pretty hot though.

So I slept in until noon, threw on some sweats and rolled myself into the office for 2:30 and it was back to the grindstone. Same story with the files, more photoshop until 9 or so. Friday was more of the same, and a bit of pre-production. Pulling together scheduling, catering, and some other elements for Monday/Tuesday's shoots. I'm still only 2 years into the industry and have adapted pretty well to the change in workload, I can step back for a minute and go "oh, THIS is the way it's supposed to be" and shift into high gear. The extra money helps. But the Bigs, oh man... they are having a tough time adjusting to it after all these years of semi-stagnation. They need to just get a housekeeper or a regular nanny or both but oh MAN. Owning a business is a full-time job on both ends, and no matter what goes wrong, it's all their responsibility. There was a fuck-up with accounting (NOT my problem) so they are both spending the weekend sorting it out. They are always choosing one over the other, (family or business) because they have such a vested interest in both, obviously. They want to spend time together and with their kids, but the business supports their family, and sadly, until we grow into more employees (which might happen soon, you local folks who are looking for some work) the onus to clean all the messes falls on them. And that is a 365 day a year job.

So I was pretty glad by the time Friday evening came around. A gal I went to college with, Keri, had contacted me and we are both pretty steeped in work right now. She's freelance, but is really good at what she does. She does a lot of long-term contracts with various photographers and has done some good travel gigs in the last year or so. She came up to our place after we both finished at around 7:30 (see, she gets the hours, too!) with a bottle of wine and a quiche (knowing our fridge was as empty as hers because honestly who has time to shop) and a plant. An awesome, beautiful plant. Kristen and Grant came up later on as well, with MORE wine, and we went through two big bottles and dished about the photo industry, from very different places. We all reminisced about school, where various people were at, etc. It was a lot of fun, and everyone took of at around 12:30, leaving us to wind down a little bit.

Justin got up at like, balls o'clock this morning to help move a set of drums (?!?) and get together with Bryan, James, and Colin. The dream team and I are heading out to see The Golden Dogs at the Horseshoe Tavern. Why is it that everywhere I go, it is from 3-8 huge guys, and me. It never fails that I am the only girl. They'll land here at the condo in about 45 minutes, make a shit-load of noise, fuck with dirtbike until he snaps, eat all our food, play all the guitars, play my piano, it will go on for three hours before they finally GET THE FUCK OUT.

I kid; they come over and my stomach always aches from laughter. James loves to get under my skin, he knows exactly what fucking bothers me. For instance stand in the corner letting each song play for twenty seconds and then skipping to the next, watching me in the kitchen struggling between wanting to scream PICK A FUCKING SONG YOU DONKEY RAPING SHIT EATER and trying very hard to be a good sport. Regardless, it seems I am forever destined to have "boys" not girls - I will always have one or two female friends, but for the most part, I am doomed to almost an exclusively male social life.

The only thing worth noting at all was that Eric Hawkins called today. We do try to stay in touch, living in the same city and all. We get together every few months, and talk every month or so about the state of the union in our relationships and work on the phone. I am so proud of him. He really loves his job, and is making good money doing it. I like Brooke too, and we always have a good time with them. She is a smart girl, and I hope things work out between them. He told me he did something stupid to help out a friend - he took a second job. He already works from like, 7 - 4, and then he started going somewhere to work from 5:30 to 12:30. He said he lasted three days, and then on the fourth day, he couldn't get out of bed. Poor Eric. He smartened up and quit the second job though, and feels much better. He was on his way up to help a buddy who had returned from a business trip to find his live-in girlfriend gone. (With his home theater equipment, I gather.) So Eric was bringing him what he needed most, beer and a subwoofer. He says Chuck is doing O.K. and that Kath hasn't "been driven totally insane yet."

There is one more thing to tell everybody, and that is about my furious anger regarding the general public being fucking retarded in their opinion towards developing countries, and what I can only write off as a lack of faith in my common sense and general intelligence level. The point is, we've planned our holiday in Jamaica, and I suppose most white middle class Canadians were told that Trench Town grew and covered the entire country in extreme amounts of crime and murder or something. And think that I need to be schooled on the "proper" way to handle yourself there, which is to lock yourself in a five star resort and not speak to anybody who isn't wearing a uniform. Which is, totally false, and even so, it's not like I didn't spend three weeks in the murder capital of the fucking WORLD.

Basically everyone we've told that we're visiting Negril has first, had no idea where or what Negril is. And they think it sounds totally awesome until we tell them it's in Jamaica, and then we are promptly told we're "stupid" or "ignorant" or "going to get shot - you're staying in a nice hotel, right?". So I've essentially stopped telling anyone where we are going, because I am really tired of parrotting to every single person "well we did a lot of research and aren't really in the habit of visiting cities we haven't learned a great deal about and it actually is much safer than Havana and yes, I DO know Dominican is really cheap and yes, you are right is pretty safe isn't that funny considering it's attached to fucking HAITI well I guess places can be in proximity to a dangerous place without being that dangerous but in your books that doesn't apply to us so we might as well just go to Bermuda where everyone is white and rich and have a mild accent because I'm far too stupid to stop myself from climbing into an unlicensed taxi and pulling out my thousands of american dollars."

To make a long story short, Negril is a lovely little town that consists of two things: tourists, and tourist industry. It's a ways away from Montego Bay, and our decision to go there was based out of a lot of discussion with my aunt (who was born there) and Justin's employer (who just moved from there). Our decision to go to Jamaica, period, was based on a few factors. They speak english, which is obviously not a requirement or something we dislike about anywhere else - but I am the type of person who starts to feel stupid and guilty when I don't speak a local language. After three days in Mexico I felt like a filthy capitalist jerk who needed to prove to all the hotel staff that I knew I wasn't any better and got all stressed out and bought a fucking phrase book and talked like an idiot for the rest of the week. Plus, I think the dialect comes out of an interesting and unique mix of European and Asian languages and that shit interests me O.K?!?!?! The food was an issue too. I know all about Cuba. I know all about their lack of spices and I will not be tricked into going to a country that will not offer me CUMIN OR HOT SAUCE WITH EVERY MEAL. We don't have a lot of money, and will be doing this on a budget. And the "budget" islands will not delight me gastronomically speaking. But Jamaica. I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. In Negril we can eat for like, 10$ a day. The last factor, was of course, price. And this made it so easy. I'm not the kind of person who needs any amount of luxury, and for less than 35$ a night per person, I think I can handle this just fine. (When I re-read this the sarcasm didn't come through. Seriously, that is the nicest looking cabin I've ever seen!) Because the accommodations (once you take BEACHES, SANDALS, COUPLES, CLUB, or RIU out of the name) are SO cheap, it's possible we might change out booking and stay for two weeks. The flight is the most expensive part, and the fact that we can subsist for about 50$ a person a day makes it extremely tempting to stay there longer. I guess if we can stop ourselves from getting into any unlicensed taxis or making eye contact, right? Morons. Get outside once in a while.

I haven't really had time to sit and write about our trip down to the cottage in New Hampshire.

It was good. It's the first long vacation I've had in a long time, and the first break Justin has had in I don't know how long. I got a good two or three weeks at Christmas - he worked straight through! It was nice to cool our jets, it any case. We don't notice how loud the city is until we get out of here. Our condo is fairly quiet considering it's on a major and is on the ground floor. But you get blasted with the bustle on your commute, when you go to the grocery store, to the library. Every time you go outside, it's a descent into this unbelievably loud metropolis that we are still getting used to.

The drive down was really good; faster than I had thought it would be. Deb is an excellent driver to follow! I ended up driving most of the way there, but that was fine. I had forgotten how beautiful the drive down through Northern Vermont is, and then through the Granite State Park. The White Mountains really are huge.

Mid afternoon was a good time to get there, really. We set up our tent and got our bed ready, our bags out of the car. I love tent camping. I wish we had something just a tiny bit bigger - dad has a 6 man that is far too big for him, I think a five would be ideal for Justin and I and the amount of stuff I like to spread out. Once we got the tarp over it we stayed dry and cozy and happy.

We had pizza dinner that night with the Ayres side of the family who are always a tsunami of... northern americans. I love them for it. Sam has grown up a lot, but still seems really immature. She had an equally immature boyfriend. Emily seemed ancient by comparison.

She's grown up a lot too. Last summer she was quite different, but a year of high school has changed her so much. She is so aware, so bright, so observant. We had some really good conversations about what she's been up too. I'm so impressed by how far she's taking kayaking in the summers, how polite and considerate she is (she offered to read aloud to me from my book on the drive home), how accurately she observes the little ticks and tricks our family has. "Have you ever noticed..." and the like. I really enjoyed having her around this summer.

Eric was Justin's shot of testosterone, and we plan on spending a lot more time together now that we're back in the city. I love Brooke, and they have a dining room table and are near the banknote!

Dad was around more than in past years, which was nice.

I read four books, I think. It was fantastic. Kate arrived and we went to the lake - Suz read from "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime" and I was in heaven. Justin likes to work and cook and help, so Eric's inability to be idle kept him busy when he didn't feel like relaxing. I didn't get myself out of bed as early as I might have liked most days - I don't recall ever having made it down to the beach by 2 or 3, which stinks.

Some aspects of the trip were a little stressful, a little tiring.

I often get very retrospective and nostalgic when I'm there; think about our lives as kids. Was it as good as we remember it? Were we as happy as I think we were? Did we laugh as much as I think we did?

It went to fast; I was not ready to go back to work. I took the Monday off when we got home, which helped. I picked up Trevor. It was not as hot as it was on the way there, he still got car sick which sucked. I was not happy with the shelter when I picked up the cat. He was still in what I had through was a "holding" cage for when pets arrived and were "checked-in". They woman's own cat was caged next to trevor, and below them were two huge bulldogs, who could not turn around in their cages. I'm still trying to decide if I should call the SPCA. He felt thinner, was essentially in a cage outside 24 hours a day, and felt thin to me. His coat was dry and he has been scratching a lot although I don't see or detect any fleas.

We just finished doing the laundry a couple of days ago, which is sad, and it's taken me this long to get back into the swing of things at work. We're in like, eighth gear right now - pharmaceutical ads, energy drink ads, I'm producing more than ever and rigging less and less.

I'm going to Halifax next weekend, but will never be anywhere other than airport, hotel, office, hotel, airport.

I'm tired. I'm glad it's the weekend. It's good to be home. I can last until Christmas.

Bridgewater Old Home Day
Bridgewater Hill Road
Old Town House, Bridgewater
Saturday, August 19
10AM-midnight

Old Home Day has been celebrated here since 1899. Join us for "beanhole beans" baked in the ground the night before. Children's games, arts, crafts, and baked goods by Bridgewater Home Industries. Bridgewater History books and photographs on sale by the Historical Society. Square dancing at night is a rousing activity.

*   *   *


We attended that square dance as surly teenagers, certain it would be the lamest of the lame. I'll never forget being all of 13, in the old town hall full of local boys - barely able to keep up, and killing myself laughing at the enthusiasm of the caller. Eric, barely able to keep a straight face and stay on his feet, trying to follow the steps as he lifted us in turn through some ridiculous cowboy manouver to what seemed like ten fiddlers, before swinging us around to some Strawberry Wine style 16 year old from Vermont.

It was such good clean GOD-FEARING fun for a city kid like me, and it sticks out in my head as one of the most fun nights of my late youth.

Because I think I might be.

Yesterday was total madness. I was up at five, at the studio by six, on the plane for eight, saw disgusting, gross, industrial Montreal, had a beer and a smoked meat sandwich, and was home by seven. CEOs can be so useless, making two people fly to Quebec, with 400$ worth of oversize, overweight baggage and shoot for FORTY minutes, turn around and go straight back - simply because he is "too busy" to fly to Toronto. Let's break down capitalism:

Yesterday's Actual Costs to Company:

Round-trip flight to Montreal for two: 700$
Excess baggage charge: 400$
SUV Taxi to location from airport, return: 150$
Day-rate for photography (must include travel time, thus 9 hours): 2500$
Airport parking: 30$
Meals: 100$
Purchase and delivery of 9ft roll of paper, cannot be shipped on plane. (Will be thrown out after forty minutes.): 250$

Total: $4,130 PLUS TAX

What the Company Could Have Paid:

Round-trip EXECUTIVE PLUS class flight for CEO: 900$
Stretch Limosuine transport to studio/airport, office/airport in Montreal: 446$
Catered Gourmet Luncheon for CEO: 150$

Total: $1496 Tax inclusive