Hungarian Sausages.

Stupid Bangladesh. Why do I always cheer for the underdog? I just get my hopes up only to have them shattered into smithereens. Now I've focussed my attention onto the West Indies game against Australia. It's not a Test, just a one-day game, so it's outcome wouldn't matter as much to me. Where is Chanderpaul? He and Chris Gayle hold this team together. And out of the two it's Chanderpaul who's reliable. I have nothing to say about the bowlers.

I've completed my snowboarding gear purchases. I have the whole set now: snow-pants, water-proof jacket, goggles, gloves, and toque. Am I excited? I'd say I'm looking forward to it. I don't know what to expect. And this lack of expectation, lack of something to look forward to, might be what's abating my excitement. What will happen on Saturday? It all seems like a passing dream. I wasn't even sure I was going but a week ago. The last few days I've been running about purchasing items from a rough gear list; not knowing where to go, what to look for. And now I'm set, awaiting the morning I'd set off, with little planning or any idea of how I'd get there. It all seems loosely attached, lacking certainty and determination.

I enjoyed the Hungarian sausages I bought today. Mmm, I could still taste it in my breath. The chunks of fat, compactly placed in between the flavoured meat, melted on my tongue after every bite. *droooool* I declare this to be the sausage of the month. I would like to try it colder next time, without frying it. There was another sausage I bought, I forgot the name of it, but I think it must've been Polish. It wasn't as flavourful, so it should be used in conjunction with another food. I will use it in sandwiches, I think. I will visit Starsky's again very soon. I want to try a new sausage every visit. Next time I will see if I can buy some Haaring.

On a final note: life seems dull and dreary without Watership Down. Finishing the book felt like closing up a part of my life. It had been with me throughout these integral months of change. The tales of Hazel, Fiver, and Bigwig paralleled my own adventures. When they struggled it seemed I too struggled alongside them. We shared the same battles, the same fears, the same losses, and the same gains. We shared the burdens. We picked our courage from the same pit. When Hazel's heart beat as he hid in the ditch, from the farmer's gun, my heart beat with his. I think what I loved so much about this book is the utter audaciousness of their missions, the lack of a clear plan, and the sheer determination that saw them through to the end. Then there were the straight-forward missions. No matter how simple the idea was, and however minuscule they envisioned the danger to be, something always went wrong. They held firm to the faith that luck was on their side, even when it was running thin. They pulled from a shallow pool of courage, even when it was thought to be dry. I found my inspiration there.