At -14C, our Indian Autumn is past. From inside, it looks glorious—blinding, glittering snow. But the cat has the right idea—burrow deep in flannel, and wait for someone to bring treats, snuggles, and maybe something to play with.
I should call the library about their back up site.
I should finish off the dishes from last night.
I should shovel the walk, or catch up on some coding, or go for a walk with N.
I should write to CBC my disgust at Fantino’s and the Police Union’s response to the charges.
But instead I’m going to move the rosemary bush into the bathroom (a little disturbance, and its better than incense), fill the tub with numbingly hot water, and melt away everything that feels like January.
Then I’ll write to the ceeb, and move some things around. Its sort of like cleaning, but without the commitment. N will understand.
I’m not sure if this apathy is winter, or is living between places.
Saturday was Eat Bugs day, and it did sparkle. We tromped off to the Butterfly Conservatory, where its always balmy and bright. A mariachi band (of 2) to follow us around. Culinary expert Professor Jeff Stewart (who apparently we know, if by extension) has managed to trick some 1500 impressionable folks (present company included) into mowing down on mealworms and crickets by disguising them in salsa, tacos, brownies (bring new meaning to “funny”), and chocolate bark.
And actually, it was all fairly non-offensive, expected Fear Factor antics aside. Little flavour, little more crunch. The mealworm exoskeleton sticks in your teeth like corn husk, but it was still more appealing than the refried beans (which I had to pass on). What can I say; I’m not a big fan of Mexican food ^^;; All insects were provided courtesy of PetsMart, and there’s even a recipe in the brochure, for the truly intrepid.