Mind-bogglingly beautiful today. These are the best days, the beautiful sad days of fall, because we know how rare and precious they are, how soon they’ll vanish. As I write, I can hear Mary Hopkins sing, “Those were the days, my friend, we thought they’d never end …” But we know they’re going to end. We’re Canadians.
I just came back from the little market by the Farm – unfortunately, most of the produce is just too expensive these days, the last blueberries and tomatoes, like gold. As always, I bought luscious bread, a whole-wheat sourdough and a walnut-raisin, and had ripped off huge chunks even before paying the vendor. Bought a slice of vegetable pizza from the Farm booth – baked an hour ago, in the brick oven, sublime – and some meat from the small butcher at the end. Came home to stuff my face. It seems that our neanderthal mayor has spared the farm for now, and has also spared libraries and daycare. Why this was even a discussion is beyond me, but there you go – someone voted for the man and now we’re stuck with him.
Today’s cheery news: clever American writer Aaron Sorkin, who wrote “The West Wing,” a terrific TV show that presaged the arrival of Barack Obama, and “The Social Network,” broke his nose recently in a writing accident. Come again? He was apparently staring into a mirror while working on some dialogue, and he butted his face into his own reflection. Hmmm. Hard to visualize. You sure you weren’t trying to give yourself a big kiss, Aaron, and your nose got in the way?
I’ve never tried writing in front of a mirror, but I won’t start now – too dangerous.
