Winter Pot Purri

Total cardiac fibrillation. I am drooling looking at the endless trail in this photo. It makes my heart punt for summer and it has given me an idea. It has inspired me to walk some of the local mountain trails with a picnic in my backpack this summer. Now that I am a winter walker, I am am overexposed to the seawall and trail walking could be an ideal summer strategy. Look at the trail in the photo. It's railed and smooth. Pit pat; pit pat. But uphill would kill me. The point of view of the photo is part of its appeal.

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Wednesday night, after my lovely lunch in Vancouver’s best place for lunch, Le Crocodile, I made some bread. I got much better results than I did on my first attempt. I made three baguettes and this time, the hardest part was getting the loaves into the oven, so today I am going get a bread peel; most peels are made for pizza ovens, so they aren’t ideal. But there must be peels made for traditional ovens.

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Dwight came for lunch on Wednesday. He got here at five after noon and when he arrived, I went to speak and not a sound came out. Having been home alone all day until his arrival, it always comes as a shock when my voice doesn’t work. I forget.

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Mere months ago, I used to dread a winter day with no plans. It’s been replaced with an “oh boy a day in which I can do anything I want” attitude.

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Last night I thought about what it will be like when an accident, diagnosis or a symptom makes me realize death is near. Yesterday I read about a 90-year old woman who, when her time came, decided against treatment and, instead, went on an incredible vacation. I hope I have that degree of spunk to face my end.

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An HIV drug dosage is a function of my weight and I’d gained almost nine pounds at my last weigh-in. Now I am only 4 ounces over my prescription medication weight. I am celebrating with a choux pastry, macaron and champagne party on Sunday afternoon.