The shallows of the Gallows.

I went onto one of the Gallows/Monster tables this morning at Last Call Poker, and I DID NOT DIE!

I actually made a little money!

(One interesting thing I am noticing about my online playing is that I tend to go in a bit stupidly on the first few hands, losing a fair bit of cash, but then as I go on, I tighten up a lot, and then start winning a bit, depending on how much the dealer loves me. One of my favorite things to do is start at an empty table with just thajinx and go heads up for a bit, waiting for the table to fill. We both play conservatively and lose a bit in blinds, trading the same $50 back and forth until other people show up. When I first learned poker from him, way back in the late days of September, we used to message our hands to each other, so I knew what he was doing and why. Now, we keep quiet, and honest, except to crow delightedly at a good fold against the other: "I knew you had trip tens! Man!!!")

I suppose that was a bit long for a parenthetical, but never you mind that. Go find a meme to memeify or something.

Stepping in from the chill.

When I go home from work in the evenings, I sometimes take a bus to the train stop, if the weather is supremely crappy - the traffic flow and congestion on the sidewalks can be terrible in pleasant weather. When there's raindrops to dodge, and large gutter backups of slush and dirt, pedestrians engage in a weird pecking order warfare of speeding up and slowing down and cutting each other off, and a simple half-mile walk becomes torture.

Most of the time I walk, though, even when it gets bad. My little Shuffleupagus (lovingly named by dasrokast) keeps me company very very well, and entire blocks will devolve and dissolve to craquemusic, or some very loud Harvey Danger.

Either way, I end up rounding a corner of a large, old stonework building that houses a large bagel shop. It always looks warm and inviting and golden in the mornings, and then empty and dark in the evenings.

But I always notice, on the homeward trip, as I pass near some outlet vents near one of the entrances, a delicious bakery smell emanating from the place. It's that exciting not-quite-food-but-cooking smell that you get when first mixing dry and wet ingredients together for cookies. It's the after-image of heat being applied to dough and butter and powdered sugar hitting my nose. It is entirely comforting. I look forward to that whoosh of air hitting my head and surrounding me with the last of today's bagels, right before I skip down the hard steps leading to the underground train.

This morning, I went into the bagel shop for the first time, and after some deliberation, got myself an everything bagel with cream cheese and lox. It was a bit extravagant, I know.

It was still one of the best breakfasts I've had in some time. Add to that a particularly well-measured pot of coffee, and my morning routine at work was a bit more upbeat than usual.

A photo taken a few months back looking up at the second floor of this building