Tuesday, April 24, 2012

New Year’s 1989

I had enjoyed meeting her friends in Kingston, until she told me how the father had once been jailed when their croupy baby had become too much to bear. I had enjoyed New Year’s Eve in Ottawa catching up with Peter, until she told me of the pass he’d made under the table during the salmon mousse. I’d even enjoyed the drizzle on Parliament Hill and shouting bonne année at midnight, until later that night when it had all come back on me, alone in the bathroom, then on the long drive home, nursing Peptol Bismol straight from the bottle.

Photo from Simply Recipes.


  1. Salmon mousse...haven't we all been there?!

  2. Is there a Blogger award for Weakest Intestines? Or a chapbook in the offing called My Proustian Moment Began with Pepto Bismol? Or maybe a little hotspot in Hell where one's (um, fictional) exes gather to heat their pokers?

    1. I mean it nicely. It seems you have found a wellspring / motherlode.

    2. You should know better than me: aren't Germans known for an obsession with their Verdauungssystem?

    3. Isn't "Schulze" on the list of Hogan's Heroes' Names for Germans?

  3. Oh Kathy....come back to the dark side.


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