Cracked Egg Day

Afternoon high of 11 C. I went biking out beyond Marysville to clear or calm my head, to dull the edge of my grant-writing anxiety. Came back soaked the skin, needing a shower. Some of the trail was sopping with water and most of the Gibson Trail was covered with thin slushy ice that the day's warmth and sun had not melted away but which crumbled under the tires. My pants got soaked from waist to the knees and a grey-brown swath of mud went up my lime-green jacket, and I had mud splatterd on my helmet and gloves (and I'm not some off-road mountain bike fool, was just on the riverside walking trails).

After the shower, I ate a bowl of the fish chowder I made this morning and a scotch pie with some of mom's pickles on the side, then took one of my 20-minute power naps.


Cracked Egg Day at Victory Meats. I remembered to make a run. Bought fresh vegies, greens, chicken, Montreal-style smoked meat and, of course, NB cracks @ $1.19 per dozen.

Tonight's Ashes, Paper & Beans program was primarially a live interview with poet Lynn Davies about her new collection Where Sound Pools (Goose Lane Editions) and the Sackville-recorded interview with author Beth Powning about her Edge Seasons book. Next week's APB has been preempted by a Montreal Massacre memorial special broadcast day.

Then I made the downhill walk on a surprising warm late November evening. Very dark. Raccoon darting between parked cars to cross York Street almost got penobsquised by another car as I was entering my building. That would have been a sight!

Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some are to be chewed and digested."
—Francis Bacon

T: CHSR Highland Radio 2000
loc: comCtr
temp: 5 C
sound: Brian Eno, Ambient 1: Music for Airports