Hangover

How Not to be Seen: Little Abbie blending in.

I feel a bit crummy. Dehydrated. Poisoned. Like I need to cut myself open and give my insides a rinse.

We had dinner out last night with a long-time friend. We first met him in 1986. He's the son of the man who was Bruce's boss at the time. 

The danger of having friends for so long is you want to always do what you have always done with them. Such as drink copiously while enjoying the conversation. So I had three pints of beer over the course of the meal. And a glass of whiskey after. And it was almost midnight before I went to bed.

Thirty years ago, this was business as usual. 

These days it's practically suicide.

I Read the News Today, Oh Boy

Readers in the Toronto area may have caught the blaring headlines in the Toronto Star about the discovery of a report on mercury contamination on the site of the pulp mill in Dryden, Ontario. 

The Star strays from objective reporting in its assertions that the report was "secret" and "withheld" from First Nations communities. However, the story was very effective in distracting attention from the larger story that legislation has just been introduced to fund the clean up of the river.

Fun With Food

My sister was in town on Saturday. We went shopping to lay in provisions for clothing and skin care. For lunch, we went to Richmond Station, where they are now serving snowmen for dessert.

Two scoops of cardamon ice cream on a blob of honey mousse, decorated with intensely-flavoured coulis and chocolate sticks, dressed up with meringue snow balls and little men made out of soft ginger bread. Almost, but not quite, too cute to eat.

Thanks for reading!

Karen