Dreary, foggy day

Nothing surpasses a rainy Saturday for remorseless indolence. Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, baguette bagel with butter and a strong, black coffee. The natural interruption of drizzle nicely camouflages the day’s tarsome agenda. Besides I need a break from routine. Today is instead devoted to negligence and indulgence of the first order! Again I am reminded that we’re not saving it for the funeral!

It is by way of example seemingly impossible to escape the allure of butter tarts and Nanaimo bars. On my way back from the car wash in Stittsville I dipped into The Beckwith Kitchen where I was overcome by the prepared meals. To their credit the chefs have succeeded to produce endless variety of sumptuous and healthful dishes. One has to question the utility and economy of buying grocers and cooking. For the time being at least having prepared foods at home is a token answer to restrictions on dining out.

Oddly the pandemic has revived an interest in weight control.  With almost everyone tethered to their home moorings social media has proven to be a nesting ground for demonstrative exercise – some of which I don’t mind saying approaches the lascivious (particularly when the physical effort is translated into the distortions called modern dance). I meanwhile have developed my own conviction that the only diet worth its salt is one promoting quantity control. There is as well a curiously provocative connection between intake and satisfaction – what I presume is a reflection of the necessity for both appetite and reward.

The days of Stoic improvement have long ago waned! The unquestionable defeat is Time alone! It is no longer a race to the finish. Instead we are moved to collect whatever ingredients are within our grasp then make the best of them while we can. It isn’t a novel recommendation but one which legitimizes a great deal of technical extravagance. Leisure from the perspective of the chaise longue is not entirely sustainable.