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So after Thursday's wet, Friday was cold and blustery, so I stayed in again. Today was just iron cold grey November so I went out for a library hold and sort of dinner ie 3 p.m. because I slept in until 11:30. Had hoped for Sushi on Bloor but it was as crowded as the old days (2007 or so) so went to Pauper's. Post-brunch time it was reasonably empty and I lucked into the special, the Guinness beef stew. That was a prepandemic dish they served occasionally in the winter, and I haven't seen it since. Memory says it used to have carrots and potatoes, but this was beef and mash. Still pretty yummy. Some day I'll try their wagyu beef potstickers, which I doubt are wagyu beef but whatever, and are also fried which I think is a sacrilege, rather like fried pierogies. (Futures has all you can eat pierogy Wednesdays, but unlike every other day, the pierogies are fried, which I think proves my point. If it was all you can eat boiled pierogies, they'd lose money.)
Sleeping in till 11:30, or rather, going back to sleep for two hours at 9:15, gets me dreams of the nonexistent walkways and restaurants back of the Colonnade, here transposed across the street to outside the Museum. I was on my bike and in gel sandals, threading my way through construction? or homeless housing? when I suddenly realized I'd lost both my bike and my shoes and was walking in melted snow. 'This doesn't happen,' I thought, looking down at my feet. 'Could I be dreaming?' which is as close to lucid dreaming as I'm likely to come. And then I was back across the street in one of those nonexistent buildings that purport to be restaurants or hotels and talking to a long-ago parent from the daycare and his kids, but son was still a pre-schooler while his younger sister had grown into a decided nine-year-old.
Sleeping in till 11:30, or rather, going back to sleep for two hours at 9:15, gets me dreams of the nonexistent walkways and restaurants back of the Colonnade, here transposed across the street to outside the Museum. I was on my bike and in gel sandals, threading my way through construction? or homeless housing? when I suddenly realized I'd lost both my bike and my shoes and was walking in melted snow. 'This doesn't happen,' I thought, looking down at my feet. 'Could I be dreaming?' which is as close to lucid dreaming as I'm likely to come. And then I was back across the street in one of those nonexistent buildings that purport to be restaurants or hotels and talking to a long-ago parent from the daycare and his kids, but son was still a pre-schooler while his younger sister had grown into a decided nine-year-old.