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Snow and leftovers
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Mmm, turkey sandwiches. It’s funny that I never appreciated them before. For those who haven’t known me in a dinner-table context, I’m very fussy about meat. (It’s even odder if you’re familiar with the sorts of things I will eat.) I like the white meat from fowl, the dark bits from a roast, and a finely-ground sausage is a thing of wonder. On the flip side, I dislike dark meat and its attendant weird bits (“what the hell is that, a vein?”), don’t like meat that’s still bleeding, and have had to work on my tolerance for discovering gristle in a bit of something. My sandwich today was exclusively dark meat, but I spent enough time dissecting and carving it that the sandwich meat was nice-bits-only. Add leftover stuffing, mayonnaise, and toasted bread: mmm.

I haven’t yet been out in the snow. I’m not really anxious to, but I will have to brave it to go up the mountain tomorrow to get my books from the SFU Bookstore. My apartment is ungodly warm in any season despite the leaky walls and single-pane glass, but I’m glad for it now. It’s very pretty out the windows, but it was prettier at nine this morning when some half-heard noise woke me early. (Note to self: go to bed soon this time.) The wheel-tracks and footprints melt and muddy the snow everywhere now. Were I still back in Ontario, I could reasonably expect that the snow would get deep enough to stay looking nice, or to just keep snowing so as to continually soften the contours of the land. I doubt that it will keep snowing here, though, at least not without some intermediary melts. Then again, global weirding may prove me wrong this year if the forecasts of -20°C weather are right...