Which worries me. Because my hair is emotionally attached to her. She coaxed its ill-defined waviness into an angular bob with a severe undercut, and now she's nursing it back through regrowth into something as yet undefined.

Really, only two words distinguish real poutine from the rest: cheese curds. Mais lache pas la patate! Luckily Toronto has some incredible authentic poutine to offer. Poutine, that I should point out generally conforms to the three sacred elements of Quebec's famous meal as described in the poutine song.

While homemade costumes earn extra props, there are plenty of creative options in stores that can make a great impression without investing a ton of time or money. Sometimes I start my search at some of the classic vintage or second hand stores to see if I can find a bargain. I'm not saying I'm cheap, but I aim to alternate which years I splurge on playing dress up.

But picking a winner between the wood-fired wonders emanating out of the ovens on Fairmount West with Toronto's larger, fluffier varieties isn't likely to end in any resolution any more than our beloved province to the right's intermittent flings with separation. .

For those who indulge, the question of who makes the best roti in Toronto is taken very seriously and allegiances run deep and often divided between a certain East-Indian variety to the more common Caribbean styles.

But if you nickel and dime over fruit you'll never enjoy it, and it's one of the city's great accessible pleasures. By drawing passers-by in to have a closer look at the cherries, corn, or mangosteens, fruit and veg markets create the tasty streetlife we dream about in our off-grey offices. Look for the shady awnings and stacks of fresh peaches, and bite into some colour on your way home.

Getting unexpected, genuine post in the mail is like finding a $20 in your shorts' pocket when you bring your summer wardrobe back out. There's the heart-fluttering "what's this?" moment, as it puts lustre on an ordinary day.

Plus the underrated fun of actual card shopping. Where you can build a narrative around what the proprietor seems to think you'll be doing while you write your note. Maybe writing letters awakens your inner need to own soaps shaped like ducks. Develop a hankering for decorative ceramic tiles? Roger's Chocolates? Inspirational fridge magnets about changing the world? An apron that says "Will Cook for Sex"?

I might open a store that sells greeting cards, pulled pork, and cat toys. I genuinely think I could get away with it.

But you can't force cheese love. You shouldn't startle a strictly cheddar eater with a Stilton or Roquefort. Though you might introduce them to a Cambazola or Saint Agur. To people just building their cheese palate, it can seem like an exercise in pain -- how much stink can you stand.

Until your senses are stretched in ways that make previously unpalatable scents and textures intoxicating. Similes become more flowery and favourable, replacing "smells like gym socks dipped in camel intestines" with "smells like seduction and a warm evening on the Champs-Élysées".

When it comes to the topic of Contemporary Art, it often seems there are only two kinds of Torontonians. There are the culture-junky downtowners who try to visit the galleries at least a couple times a year, in an effort to find unique gems for their collections and to remain cognizant of the heartbeat of the city. And then there is everyone else, the other 98% of our neighbours who don't know that there are galleries in the city other than the ROM and AGO and wouldn't have the faintest idea of how to find fresh, exciting new art if it occurred to them to look. What a shame because Toronto sports a wildly creative, at times bombastic and risque, gritty, gorgeous, and cerebral art scene.

The last few years have seen a clutch of designer collectives open in Toronto. As Shopgirls Gallery Boutique puts it, the local talent was evident, the opportunities were not. So, in true Canadian spirit, Toronto artists created their own opportunities, opening their own stores and galleries.

Come check out what the colonies can do.

(I feel like I just broke some unspoken rule about keeping the phrase "human sacrifices" out of feel-good flower posts. Oh well.)

Then there's tulips. Today they crowd the entrance to every convenience store, yet during Holland's Tulpenwoede ("tulip fury") a single bulb was once sold in exchange for several loads of wheat, oxen, a mess of pigs, a dozen sheep, booze, butter, 1000 lbs of cheese, a bed, a suit of clothes and a silver beaker (see Torontonian Andrew Smith's excellent "Strangers in the Garden".)

Proust said he only had to think of lilacs to smell their scent. For those of us with less vivid sense memory, here is a short list of some of Toronto's best florists (which almost never trade in oxen).

Sampling falafels sold in Toronto often means sampling the background of the owner or chef, and Toronto's multifaceted ethnic tapestry provides falafel lovers with an enormous number of outlets, no two of which seem to serve quite the same food in the same form for the same price.