Memoir slam

"He's a New Yorker.  Nothing really impresses him"--Company

Yesterday I went on another Prof Walk.  We met at the Dundas West station and walked down Roncesvalles to Parkdale and the shore.  Afterward I had lunch at a restaurant called Eggsmart.  Once in a while I am capable of doing something new!

This afternoon I went to an Out of Your Shell Meetup event at the Lillian Smith library:  a dozen people met for a sort of memoir slam, where they randomly choose a memoir subject to write about, people write for half an hour than read their writing aloud, then they do it again. (They meet most Mondays.) The first subject was the countryside near our childhood home; the second was bodybuilding.

I was half an hour late because I'd been off seeing Dr. Hassan to get my Cipralex prescription renewed, then getting it refilled at Shoppers Drug Mart.  So I didn't get to write in the first round, but just listened to the other people.  But I couldn't think of anything to write about bodybuilding, so in the second round I actually wrote about the first-round subject!  I told them about how we'd take ice cream to our cottage and it would be half-melted, and I still have a soft spot for half-melted ice cream today; and also about our year in Brighton, of which I remembered several smells and seeing Rolf Harris play his wobble board on TV.

In preparation for Saturday's ROLT event, I picked up a book of A.E. Housman's poems at Lillian Smith, and one of Robert Browning's poems at Gladstone.  It's at times like this that I miss Mother:  she liked Housman and I wish I could talk to her about his poetry.  

I made it home just before a big downpour that presumably caused the two-hour blackout this evening.  Blackouts are something the goblins cause from time to time to remind us how dependent us modern city slickers are on electricity.