(no subject)
I am a sharer. When I was young, I learned how to share, and I learned pretty well. When I have something, particularly a food item, I like to offer it to other people, and it delights me when they partake (though people rarely seem to accept - it's possible that it's because I am a terrifying ogre, but my theory is that people don't like to feel like they owe something, although I feel that the joy of sharing is perfectly adequate repayment). I suppose this is just one of those human rituals of making friends, much like breaking bread. Today, however, it revolves around a pint of blueberries. Nic and I wandered around the Halifax farmer's market for quite a while, and every single person to whom I offered blueberries cheerfully dug their fingers into my little green box of delicious. If it wasn't so goddamned cold, I'd consider living here for a while. I feel that if I am shivering miserably in August, this bodes poorly for long-term residency. The cold can be temporarily chased away by juggling fire, but thus far only Nic has had the opportunity to do so.