Stuff and Moonshine

 Had Thanksgiving lunch with my parents. Unfortunately, for the past few years, “visiting the folks” has meant “dragging a man who is legitimately disabled and also doesn’t really like visiting his in-laws through the ever-changing labyrinth that is Union Station* and on and off the GO Train to Hamilton.”
I did get some more of my great-aunts’ clothes out of it, as well as two pairs of my shoes I’d left at Aunt Janette’s house in the mid-90s. It is impossible to visit my mother and not be sent home with gifts of somewhat random things. 

Andrew watched an episode of Titans this morning— apparently S2 is a huge improvement over S1. This episode, involving Superboy (the “cloned from Supes and also Lex Luthor version) was quite good, although I found I had a weird under-reaction to one scene— it may be that the trope of a genetically-engineered character being shown all the jars of failed cloning experiments that preceded them has been done often enough that it’s no longer that shocking, but this time seeing it my reaction was basically: “But isn’t that also true for a lot of natural-born people? Miscarriages, especially early-first-trimester ones, are really common. Everyone you meet is just a blastocyst that *did* manage to implant and was viable enough to survive.”

So um, Happy Canadian Thanksgiving, my fellow viable-enough individuals?



* Yes, the Mimico GO Station is geographically closer to our home; it’s also halfway up a hill and last I looked** was full of stairs.
** It’s possible they've installed an elevator. (Googles it— they’re promising full accessibility by 2023)

I think I've managed to jump-start a new story; with any luck I may get it done in time to try submitting it to the Masked Mosaic anthology of Canadian superhero-themed stories. It doesn't even have a working title at the moment, but it begins with two old-gold buyers driving across the Prairies -- this part is loosely based on a job my grandfather had one summer in the 1930s.