My shoes are dead, Jim

I can't ignore it anymore: my shoes are dead.

I've been wearing the same pair of sneakers for a long time, probably far longer than I should, given the ridiculous amount of walking I do. I really should have replaced them last year, but they're comfy and I hate shoe-shopping. So I ignored the signs of wear: the soles that have been worn halfway through, the seams that are coming apart near the toe, the bunching of material near the edges.

But today I looked down and realized the seam near the ball of my right foot has come completely undone. My shoes have crossed the line from "old, but it's not too obvious (I hope)" to "I can't wear these shoes for anything except lounging around the house."

So I guess I know what I'm doing at some point this weekend...

The hunt for salep is over

For those of you who haven't followed the ongoing saga of the salep, I discovered this drink at Your Inner Vagabond at Pennsic last year. It tastes like hot vanilla. I've been trying -- in vain, so far -- to find it in Montreal.

I found powdered salep (uncut, just the orchid root) at the Jean Talon market on Tuesday. Yes, it was bloody expensive: $8 for about 2 teaspoons, enough for 3-4 servings. But it was the pure, unadulterated stuff, no cornstarch added.

I made some tonight. It's wonderful. It's everything I hoped it would be.

Except that it's almost $3 a serving. Ah well, can't have everything.