A.M. Dellamonica

I have over the past few years become something of an artifical stench-hater, so it’s sad to report that I was at a work site this week and my coat fell afoul of a lurking puddle of disgustingly scented soap. I had thought it was just the heavy winter coat, but my fleece is redolent with it too. It smells like baby powder laced with decaying rose petals and I am quite thoroughly revolted by it. I plan to run the fleece through the washing machine ASAP and trot the heavy coat to the cleaners.

Until that happens, my short-term solution is to go outside in the hopes that fresh air will scrape off the stench cooties, or at least that the sights of spring will distract me from the miasma.

It is Wednesday morning as I type this and Kelly and I are breaking with our usual mid-week pattern, whereby we go for breakfast before schlepping off to our respective work commitments downtown. It is the last day of her staycation… the old job is guttering out Thursday, and the new one starts next week. In the meantime there has been lots of relaxing, including some quality walks. A couple days ago we had a two-hour amble along the river at Steveston, where we saw this immature bald eagle:

On Tuesday we went to what is becoming one of my favorite places in Vancouver, Au Petite Chavignol, where we had a long, stunning early dinner with about ten different types of fantastic, deitylike cheese. It was a splashy, indulgent treat; I’ve been feeling the need for something of exactly that nature, and I’m glad to say it didn’t disappoint.

Today began with pouring torrential rain and, in my case, a mere pretense at writing fiction–I typed in the novel chapter I drafted longhand yesterday, and woolgathered a bit about what I want to do with it. I hope to spend many hours reading a novel and relaxing in front of the fire.