Monday, October 21, 2002

Dinner for one?
Friday night, coming home from work, stopped off at La Boîte Noire to renew my video membership and rent The Others, which is surprisingly good in a Sixth Sense sorta way (love the fact that Tom Cruise is executive producer). Headed up St-Denis where, on the corner of St-Joseph, is this amazing fruit & veggie market whose name escapes me. Pick up some greens to go with my chicken in peanut sauce. Oh hey, a container of mixed greens, pick it up. Finally stopped at another market near the corner of Laurier and St-Denis to pick up some brews. Knowing that I was making crêpes this weekend, I also picked up some eggs, meaning I needed some bacon for breakfast. Hmm, croissants would go with that also. Butter, I need butter. Milk for my café au lait. Heading to the cash, I notice that the store stocks tiny dressing containers at the salad bar, 0.15$ each. At the cash, I look around; there are about six women and two other men waiting to pay, each of us laden with single-serving dinners, either already prepared or quick and easy to cook. All tail-end baby boomers or gen-x’ers, embarassements and disappointments to our parents because of our singlehood. I calculate that at least five of us are owned by cats. I had never noticed before how many of us there were out there, either content with our status or desperately lonely, and that there are stores that cater to such folks.
Saturday, I head down to the national book monopoly, and spend way too much coin on three tomes, which should keep me going for a week or two. Headed to Weir yesterday, a small town north of Morin Heights, snow bordering the roads. Turn off on a country road, and come face to face with megalithic antennas belonging to Téléglobe. It was a scene out of Hollywoood; huge parabolic antennas in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the forests’ fall colours, backed by huge granite cliffs. Walking along, found what seemed to be deer bones, sun- and time-bleached, at least a foot long. Coming back home last night—my first Sunday night in town in months—turn a corner to see the full moon just over the horizon, a mixture of pink and purple. Grozny.

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