Dear J,

P and I have been together since 1999; unbelievably, more than twenty years ago now. When I saw a cute boy dancing on the nightclub stage, wearing a shirt with an attached neon light, I wasn’t thinking long term… and yet here we are.

That’s a happy surprise.

Less happy? Temps dropped down into the 50s this week, and the condo got chilly! We could build a fire, I guess? But I’m okay padding around in slippers and a bathrobe. No radiator heat yet; we’re supposed to see 70s next week. Once the heat goes on, our place will be tropically warm, and I’m happy to postpone that until winter really sets in.

A pub slash bar on a corner near us is closing today. I don’t know if we ever would have gone in, but it’s a queer-owned place, so… maybe? I was sad to see the sign on the door. Shouldn’t have been a surprise; I don’t know how any restaurants with a significant physical space are going to survive. We haven’t ordered in since the pandemic began, and our only time eating out was that stunningly good (and surprisingly expensive!) tasting menu on a windy street corner.

Our gourmet grocery store, meanwhile, has let us down, particularly in the area of pastries and pies. I was shocked when I found an apple pie with its bottom three quarters covered in mold. No more apple pies! Then it was a raspberry danish, different vendor, same mold. On Thursday, after taking an enthusiastic bite of one of my beloved blueberry muffins, my stomach sank. The little patch on top… that could just be crystallized sugar, right? I called Paul in for a consult. Verdict: moldy muffins.

I guess the good news is that I’ll be forced to eat healthier breakfasts?

I’m still playing with the bass for a couple hours each day. Turns out that if you want to progress at something, having good teachers and actually practicing the way they suggest… works?!

::hugs:: and more ::hugs:: and a whole lot of love

C/