Quebecois cuisine
So, for no reason that I have been able to deduce, a reminder to meet for dinner at some restaurant in Quebec appeared in my Google calendar, which I never use. Because of this, reminders also popped up on my phone and on my Linux machine at home. Somebody really wanted me to make that dinner in Quebec. I’m thinking now that this might have been a reminder sent from the future. Maybe in 2032, I’ll be up there at the Restaurant L’Ardoise eating snails and poutine with some guy named Henri and his mysterious lover Dominique. This actually sounds fun. I better set up some kind of reminder.

Bat boy spotted in Lewiston!
Cruising down Webster Street in Lewiston the other day, I spotted a kid in long black cape, wearing a black helmet and shooting down the street toward the downtown. My first thought upon clapping eyes on this spectacle was that the bats were out early and that they were huuuuuge this time of year. Just in case it WAS a bat, I threw a hat up into the air, but the creature didn’t fly into it, so I guess it was just a kid. Disappointing.

To catch a critter
In case you didn’t understand that hat reference — I know you like to drink in the morning and things get confusing — my grandfather told me, when I was about 5, that if you throw a hat into the air at dusk, a bat will fly into it. Of course, the guy was always telling me that he had my stolen nose between his two fingers, too, so grain of salt.

I know that guy!
Was riding my motorcycle up whatever that street is called near whatever that ballfield is called near the Colisee in Lewiston the other day when I sensed somebody creeping up next to me on my left. I got all tense and instructed the interloper to back off a bit before we collided. Turns out the sun was in a weird position and the interloper closing in on me was my shadow. I was still pretty irate about how close he was riding next to me, but then I turned a corner and the shadow moved out in front of me and so THAT was all right. Handsome fellow, if a bit reckless.

Skowhegan drive-in is closing
Well, this is depressing news. The Skowhegan joint was where we Waterville folk went for nighttime entertainment as young hooligans. Oh, the memories I have. That one time we actually paid full price and DIDN’T stuff one of our loser friends in the trunk. That one time we actually WATCHED the movie and didn’t spend all our time making clumsy advances at our dates. That glorious evening where our annoying friend Rudy ripped the window right out of his Chevy Vega because he forgot to detach that honking big speaker before driving off. That place was special. I’m pretty sure I lost my innocence there. Maybe the crews will find it when they plow that sucker over.

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