I am in pain. Thighs and bicepts, forearms and pecs, even my mats and abs are, by turns, engaging in a cacophony of complaint and gratitude.
As those of you in the north-eastern States and eastern Canada know, we've just had our first, belated, blast of winter and I — determined to live up to my warm-weather claims to love winter and to be looking forward to shovelling snow — yesterday did twice clear both the walkways and sidewalk in front of our house and our neighbours', as well as the rather long driveway in back. (Why the neighbours? Simple enough: for the past two winters the young(ish) women living next door made sure to shovel out my father and it seems to me a favour that ought to be repaid. And also, I can use the exercise.)
I'd post pictures of the piles I've made, but sadly, my camera decided to give up the ghost somewhere between some few days prior to my departure from Toronto and two or three weeks subsequent to my arrival here in Ottawa. And so instead, a belated picture of the jack'o'lantern the roomate, Raven Tresses and I carved back on Hallowe'en (the flesh of which I last night made into the final pie that good gourd will provide. I have not yet quite managed to recreate the accidental Best Pumpkin Pie in the World which I made more than a decade ago, but I'm closing in with the ever-braver application of spices such as garam massala to the mash. But more on my culinary adventures anon).
A belated note on the slow upticks of my social life.
First, I finally had the pleasure of meeting beable in the flesh last week.
We met at the National Archives to see a film showing as part of a European film festival. This one from Romania and, honestly, not a particularly good one. Earnest and melodramatic, it reminded me of what I imagine Canadian cinema was like in the 1970s — or maybe, what American movies of the week, still are.
Whereas Young Geoffrey has 173 LJ usernames on his "Mutual Friends" and "Also Friend of" lists, and whereas it seems to him that it is mostly the same cast of characters who post comments, he has grown Curious and so, has Determined to Inquire as to just Who among those listed actually reads his journal? Whereas Young Geoffrey has 173 LJ usernames on his "Mutual Friends" and "Also Friend of" lists, and whereas it seems to him that it is mostly the same cast of characters who post comments, he has grown curious. Whom among the listed actually reads his journal? If you selected the third option above ("I scan Young Geoffrey's post and sometimes read them,"), please indicate which type of posts most interest you.
Whereas Young Geoffrey has 173 LJ usernames on his "Mutual Friends" and "Also Friend of" lists, and whereas it seems to him that it is mostly the same cast of characters who post comments, he has grown curious. Whom among the listed actually reads his journal?
If you selected the third option above ("I scan Young Geoffrey's post and sometimes read them,"), please indicate which type of posts most interest you.
Following said movie, we repaired to a nearby tavern where I proceeded (as is too often my wont) to significantly out-drink my companion, though she assured me I grew neither maudlin nor particularly stupid (always good to have such a reassurance!). We then repaired to her place for more talk and the lending (to me) of several geeky VHS movies I still need to re-watch. In return, I promised to supply her with The Sarah Jane Adventures.
And somehow, it was past 2:00 AM by the time I returned home to a house dark and silent. (And was surprised to find I can walk to the Archives in almost exactly 30 minutes; Ottawa is indeed a small city, or at least, its core is.)
What else? I swear I had a third topic in mind, but the stream of my consciousness appears to have dried up — or, perhaps more seasonally appropriate, frozen over. And so, a(nother) poll! Indulge me if you will, Gentle Readers!
As some of you may know, I rather enjoy cooking and have been doing so since before I moved out onto my own at the ripe old age of 17. Not such a big fan of doing dishes, mind you.
And so, as Raven Tresses and I have gotten to know each other (including via more than one over-night talk sessions in the living room), I have taken to including her in meals. And recently, we formalized the arrangement. Rather than duplicate (and, too often) waste food, particularly of the vegetable varieties, we've started pooling our food dollars and further, more often than not the food itself.
Since I'm cooking anyway, having Raven do the washing up afterwards most nights seems an eminently fair bargain. And she works long hours; and I do enjoy making sure she's eating proper food rather than stoping in at Tim Horton's near her work, so I try to have something for her to take with in the morning as well.
I know, I know — macho much?
Right. Got work to do. Enough self-indulgence. I'm out of here.