Ode to Johnny Kroeker and the liminal people (Part II)
June 20, 2008
Last night, in classic white people fashion, Leon and I headed over to a friend’s place for a dinner party (#90). We dawned our best outdoor performance clothing to stave off any potential work-related conversation (#87), grabbed a bottle of wine (#24), left our apartment building by the water (#51), hopped on our bicycles (#61), and headed over to our friend’s lovely, ikea-inspired apartment (#79).
It was a lovely dinner. When we arrived, everything was in the final preparation stages. The plan was to fondue, and our gracious hosts were finishing off the cheese fondue, adding some cheese with a name I can’t pronounce, and discussing the list of obscure ingredients that they had to hunt around to find before the big day. Anyway, the dinner was wonderful and we enjoyed ourselves immensely.
In part, the enjoyment came from how well the dinner party went over. It had all the necessary elements: a stylish apartment, good music, and good conversation. And Leon and I were, of course, the best guests, but not because we brought any obscure desserts — we were actually the only guests. However, the dinner party was especially fantastic because of our hosts: the very lovely Amanda, and none other than number one of my top five liminal people. I know people have been waiting anxiously for almost eight months for the unveiling of the fifth and final of the top five liminal people. Well, probably people waited for a month or so and then gave up on me and forgot about my blog altogether. Either way, here it is:
Johnny Kroeker.
Since I moved to Wolseley last summer and until I moved again last month, Johnny and I walked to work and back together almost everyday. In addition to witnessing some interesting events (e.g., a hit and “got up and ran”), those 15 minute walks included some of the best and most intense conversations I have ever had. Johnny is a fantastic listener, an animated speaker, and a good person. He asks the right questions all the time and does not rest until he’s gotten satisfactory answers. My friends will attest to the fact that while John and I were doing what we termed “the walk,” most of my stories/discussions with them would start with, “Well, I was walking home with John yesterday, and…” Now that I’ve moved, and our walks to work no longer coincide, I see John (and the other liminal people) a lot less. But he’s still one of my favourite people, hence the ode, and also my last post.
Yes, this is the end of the liminal spaces project. I just don’t have time for it anymore. I have to spend more time training for marathons (#27) and watching Arrested Development (#38 ) — but don’t worry white people, I don’t even own a TV (#28), I’ll just be watching it on my roommate’s mac (#40). 
