I promised myself that I would never ever blog what I ate for breakfast...even though what I ate for breakfast was rather good...I could blog about the squirrel who lives in my tree and has no idea I am here as he pursues his ablutions...or the pair of blue jays who paused for a moment yesterday...in my tree on Ste. Catherine's street.

But I have lots of fragments. I call this one time frames.

A fifteen year old cat has slept ten of those fifteen years...

A six-month relationship only guarantees a six-month anniversary. Soon, he will smell the preservatives in our conversations, the scent of mothballs in our actions. It will not last. I will not allow myself to share his naive joy in the way that children believe in the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus.

My only regret is that I didn't footnote the fragments...I took them down and forgot to note the author...but I do rather like a good metaphor. I respect a good metaphor.

The bird? He's a merganser...