Monthly Archives: November 2012

Autumnal gnocchi

I went for an emergency massage the other night to deal with this shoulder pain I contracted in Ottawa last week. A colleague recommended the therapist: “She is punishing,” he warned. Right before, the Beast texted me to say that he was making dinner. All I had to do was pick up a couple of things on my way home. So, after my body was made malleable by the smallest little pair of hands I’ve ever seen, I bought shitake mushrooms, gnocchi, chicken stock and sage from the No Frills.

At home, in the kitchen, where the Beast insisted that he would make dinner alone, without help.

Beast: Are you impressed that I chose some ingredients because I felt they were autumnal and then looked them up on my Epicurious app for a suitable recipe?

Foodie: (Doing my stretching exercises that my therapist showed me) Really impressed.

Beast: Even my outfit is autumnal.

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Odd in Ottawa

I remember one of the last things the Beast told me the night before I left for Ottawa to attend a workshop on how to tell better stories using sound and images.  I had just gotten home from work and flopped myself down on the bed with my pants around my ankles, too weak to pull them all the way off in order to get into my joggers. I said something about being frustrated with this post-TIFF 10 lb. I need to lose.  And he said, “Well, can I tell you a fucking way to drop a quick five lb.?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Try getting rid of all that,” he said, motioning in a circular fashion down there.

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