F 1 D 0 - 2004 01 11 at 1215

Memories of Thunder Bay.

I'm not sure when it happened, but I missed
being up north. This morning? Yes. Around 6am
when I first woke up.

I went through email, as I always do. I must get
a hundred spam messages overnight. It's getting so
I don't even remember deleting them. I read the
subjects, and if they smack of spam at all, then
I touch the letter "D" and the message is marked,
and I go to the next one.

Maybe I began missing Thunder Bay last night. I 
came home late from the Contradance downtown. No
reason in particular for this lateness, just wandered
around. 

When I finally got to checking email messages, Ann
was concerned that I'd not written recently. Wanted
to make sure I was okay.

So maybe that's when I started to think about things.

What happens on a very cold Sunday morning at the
Lakehead? I guess much the same as anywhere else.
People who wait for the weekend do weekend things.

One weekend thing to do is pancakes and coffee at
Hoito, or a similar place not far from it, Kangas.

So here I am, at the top of Toronto, jonesing for
Finnish Pancakes.

I've already written a lot about my failed attempts
at making them. I had such a failed attempt this
morning. 

I prepared! I went to the internet, and searched for
"pancakes hoito" using google. Hey! The first site 
returned was the Hoito site, with their original
recipe, and the next two sites returned were Mine!
I was delighted.

That didn't help. Maybe writing it down this time
will help.

What goes wrong when you make these? They don't
flip well. 

I began knowing that I'd be eating up all of it
myself, so I didn't use much flour. One Cup. And
I wanted something more substancial than the suggested
3 cups of milk, so I used only two. 

What went wrong then?

I have to remember this!! Don't fill the bottom of 
the frying pan. Just one ladle, maybe two.

The taste was right, and now I'm feeling so much
better, I am able to do something else I did a lot
of up north: write to the journal. 

At least I'm trying.

Jeff has web cameras all over the house (webcams).
That's his way to let people see into our world.

I used to write to this journal, and share the little
scraps of poison in my head with you.

So after many words, I'll just say it again: I really
missed Thunder Bay this morning. 

I'm a bit sick. I *never* get sick.

That's why I ignored the words of Meyer, a friend
and customer. He lives perhaps ONE BLOCK from me.
One Toronto City Block from me.

He advised me, when I went to help him, that
while he needed help with his computer, he
had a cold, and I should avoid catching it.

"I never catch anything!" I chimed.

I should call him and remind us both that
I need better listening skills.

Viruses have a mind of their own. Okay, maybe
they don't, but it feels like that.

On Day One, you notice something is wrong.
The back end of the roof of your mouth is 
soft and tender.

On Day Two, your body has new instructions. Make
mucus, all of the time. Don't stop. 

On Day Three, the virus does something to your
thinking. A bit of headache? But you just feel
it as Really Wrong in the Head.

On Day Four, I get a gift from my mom: a handful
of small Chlortripolon. Life improves immediately.
I should have taken two at once, but a reduction
in fluid production is like a holiday right now.

On Day Five, the virii have moved into my lungs.
This too shall pass. That's today.

I was worried about winter coming to Toronto. It has
been fall until just a few days ago.  We got a snowfall,
and now it's winter, but it's not hell. It's still
*very* warm. I hear people complaining about it,
saying that you freeze quickly. The snow is only
on certain lawns, not on the street, not on the walks.

See? It's nice out. Or maybe I just miss Thunder Bay.

That's all I know.



Pictures courtesy of
http://www.sturho.com/thunderbayont/tbay.htm