I can’t sleep.

We’re going to pick up half a lamb with Tish and Terry tomorrow – we’re in Cornwall – and then go see baby Malcolm who is breathing on his own and nursing like a champ.  Yay!

I have had lots of major and minor irritations about the trip so far but can’t provide details.  The femicides in the Wilno area and the utter incompetence of the OPP in policing and the CBC in reporting merely added to the things that make me sad.

The saddest thing of all is how badly I want to get on the plane and go home. I’ve never missed Jeff so much.

Some things are good, the amazing mushrooms and the canoe jaunt to the falls and Shadow cat and no bugs and pleasant fall weather.

I can feel some interest in writing coming back. The characters are talking to me again.

As is standard the table last night had all manner of lovely fare; Patty pan squash and ribs with home made barbecue sauce, eddo (which is a starchy corm yes Jeff I hadz a corm) and taters and home made salsa.

Mind you the veal stew Sandra cooked night before last was spectacular, along with the lovely cheese and rice. I ain’t starving.


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Born 1958. Not dead yet.

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