I have a hot chocolate in my fist, and some chocolate in my blood.

There was a snowstorm today.

I got out of work earlier than I was booked for, because we're just that damned efficient.

It was a touring show, for kids, so the set was tiny and the lighting was minimal. Normally they played in school gyms.

The touring technician, Curtis I think his name was, was a cutey-patootey. Kind of three musketeers hair-and-moustache combo which I found particularly appealing.

But! I make it a rule: no flirting at work. Or at least, minimal, and if there's flirting, people I already have a close friendship with.

Ah well.

~

The chocolate, it is sitting behind my eyes like two thumbprints on my brain. A thin violin spins out of my speakers, mournful and solitary. I like this song.

~

So I got out work early. Snow was just beginning to come down in fat, wet flakes.

I bought a new winter jacket recently, a scarlet wool vintage number with faux horn toggles. It's earning me the nickname Little Red Riding Hood.

I pulled that on and tucked the hood around my ears, and headed across the street to one of the other theatres, to pick up a cheque.

A quick stop at the bank (ah, it feels good to have a good cushion of money, even with rent being paid today), and then a hop back on the train.

An even quicker stop at the grocery store to pick up a block of cheese, a loaf of dense, brown pumpernickle, two veal cutlets, and a litre of milk.

I'm rather lactose intolerant, but I'd been having a hankering for cheese sauce and toast, and you need milk for the white sauce.

It was still snowing when I hopped off the bus, crushing big footprints in the fresh white blanket that covered the bus stop.

I never realized how much the smell of onions frying in butter reminded me of my mother. She was the one who taught me how to make a white sauce.

~

A couple tablespoons of minced onion.

A couple tablespoons of butter.

A litre of milk.

A couple tablespoons of white flour.

Lots of grated cheese (2 to 3 cups).

Fry the onions in the butter until just golden.

Add milk (reserving a little to mix the flour into).

Mix flour into reserved milk until smooth, and whisk into pan of warming milk.

Grate cheese, whisking milk frequently to keep lumps from forming on the bottom of the pan.

When hot but not boiling, and appropriately thickened, turn down heat and sprinkle grated cheese over surface, whisking cheese into milk before adding more. Keep stirring until all cheese is melted.

DO NOT BOIL. It will make the cheese curdle, and that is naaaaaaasty.

You don't want to eat naaaaaaaasty, do you?

That's what I thought.

~

Cooked up a huge pan of cheese sauce and fried up the veal cutlets in some chopped shallots while I listened to Across the Universe in the background.

The Female Roommate arrived, the strings of her hood pulled so tight I could only see her frosty glasses and the tip of her nose.

"Damn," she said, pulling her layers off one by one and dropping them on a dining room chair. "It's a complete white out out there."

I hadn't looked outside since I'd started the cheese sauce, caught up as I was in my world of reimagined Beatles, warm lightbulbs, and the smell of frying onions.

The window was neigh on iced up, but I could still see the drifts of snow blowing by the windows.

She pulled out her camera and I waiting patiently by my cheese sauce, whisk in hand, as she scrolled through her pictures.

"There," she says, triumphantly as she shows me a picture of a fallen tree.

"Wow," I say, guessing that's what she wants me to say. "That's quite something."

"It's by the bus stop," she says. "The whole top of the tree just broke right off. The wind is howling out there."

"Mmm," I say, my gaze sliding away. I can feel it happening, but can do little to stop my attention from drifting. I'm really thinking about thick toasted pumpernickle and cheese sauce.

"I'm thinking about dragging it home to be our Christmas tree," she continues, scrolling through pictures of this poor mutilated tree.

"Oh?" I say, stirring my cheese sauce.

She says some other things, but I can't remember what.

I'm not a very good listener. I find people repeat themselves a lot, and don't pick up on my affirmative signals, so I stop paying attention after a while.

This week (two weeks? When was my last day off) has been a long and tiring one. My eyes feel like bruises in my face, and my spine bends with weariness, despite my best efforts to keep it erect.

I only know what day it is because my phone tells me, or I can discern it by what television shows are on (isn't that pathetic?).

~

The leather was soft and wet in my hands. My drawing of the flying boar wasn't very good, but it was better than the original which I was given.

Once I've got my swing going, my internal artistic rhythm, I am surprised I've put off this project for so long. It's going at a surprising clip.

The ermine marks were the hardest, and are still not very good. But my tools are fairly large and clumsy, considering how small and detailed this piece is.

I think it will look good. I will do the gold in gold leaf. Not real gold leaf, but my faux leaf is pretty nice, all the same.

I finished the tooling in one sitting, which was another surprise, even though that one sitting was almost three hours long. Now it is laid flat on my work table to dry overnight.

Tomorrow, perhaps, I will paint it, and punch the holes for the stitching.

I hope Sam will like it. She paid me in advance. I hate when people do that.

~

It was a fairly productive night, all things considered.

I got that leather piece nearly finished.

Did a couple loads of laundry.

Made a large batch of cheese sauce for later toast/cauliflower and cheese sauce cravings.

Also cleaned the frying pan I used! (A bit of a feat. I rarely do major dishes right away.)

~

I've been wearing one of my Nana's rings a lot lately.

Don't know why.

It's a thin gold band with one clear stone, and two blue ones.

I don't know if it has any value beyond that which I bestow upon it, but I like to stare at it and wonder about my Nana.

I like to think it will give me sweet dreams, but y'know.

Anyway.

The chocolate, it is slowing my blood and I must sleep.

Be well.

.

Rosie.

PS, I finally watched Demolition Man this weekend. Finally understood why people always tell me I sound like I'm from Demolition Man. Weirdos.

Before&After