1. Carr's Assorted Biscuits for Cheese
2. The TTC
3. AWK

1. I was entertaining recently and bought a big box of Carr's biscuits. (There was so much food in the house that three times in a row I forgot to feed people the cheese and crackers, with the result that I have a selection of refined cheeses hanging around in my fridge uneaten. If any of my five readers would like to claim a)a currant-vodka cheddar, b) a mild blue or c) some raw-milk Oka, please let me know. Cheese free to a good home.) As I was sampling the crackers today, I had two thoughts about them. One was that, given a limited number of ingredients (flour, oil, water, salt), a discernable range of crackers is still possible. There are the very pale, flaky ones that probably contain mostly fat; the "standard" cracker, a round, toasty affair; a large, almost malty tasting whole-wheat variety, etc. The other thought was that Assorted Biscuits for Cheese can be abbreviated to ABC and I feel certain that it has, somewhere in the world, currency as an upperclass shorthand, i.e. "We need to pick up some Carr's ABCs, darling."

2. I had an appointment at St. Clair and Avenue Rd. today and it took me almost an hour to get back here (Dupont and Bathurst) on the TTC, in minus ass degrees weather. (Minus 7 C, really.) That's 1.7 miles, people, or 2.7 kms. Is it me, am I becoming more impatient in my bicycle-riding old age, or is the TTC getting worse? Because this is not an isolated incident. Every time I take the TTC, I'm pretty much guaranteed to feel pissed off.

3. I used to help out at a health-care clinic at reception and there was one patient who I got along with quite well; she's a PhD student in philosophy and funny and smart, and one day we recklessly exchanged phone numbers. But then her phone number just sat there on my desk and I'd look at it and think, when am I ever going to call (let's pretend her name is) Estee? It seemed too much of a leap to go from receptionist/client banter to one-on-one cafe talk. If I'd had a party, I could have invited her, but I never have parties. The longer I didn't call, the more I hoped I'd never see her again at the clinic, because then we'd both have to make mealy-mouthed excuses for not calling, and then the pressure would be doubly on. But at the same time I was afraid she'd think I didn't like her, which wasn't true. It was all more stressful than any non-friendship has a right to be. Then, last week, I was walking Awesome Dog in the freezing cold and she was wearing her boots and coat and I was trudging along listening to my iPod and a woman in a long coat with a beagle was walking towards AD and I. AD doesn't care for other dogs and she just kept walking and so did I, no offence intended to the woman, who, as I began to pass her, I realized was speaking and also realized was Estee. But I kept walking because the whole phone number exchange thing was weighing on me so heavily and I thought that if we had to stop and talk it woud only highlight the fact that we got along well and would prompt another exchange of sentiments about how we should get together and I couldn't bear entering into that whole cycle again. I felt bad as I kept walking and I could hear her saying something like "Oh, alright then," in a snubbed way. I felt bad, but I also felt neurotic.

Then today as I was waiting for the bus, Estee came up to the stop and she looked at me and she looked right through me. And I was studying her face because I was so certain that if it were Estee she would have said something that I just couldn't quite believe it WAS her because she looked at me like total stranger. When we got on the bus we ended up standing quite close to each other, maybe two feet apart, and I looked her in the eye and started to say her name but she just started me down with an impersonally angry look on her face and I was so confused -- still thinking maybe it wasn't her? -- that I lost my words and she looked away and I crept back to the front of the bus and now I am so hoping I never, EVER see her again.