Kinsey

         

             Amarillo still hadn’t come home as of Sunday, August 21^st, so that makes it two weeks. I think this is the longest he’s ever been away.
             It looked a bit like rain as I headed for my bike ride, but I only felt a few drops as I rode up Brock.

            There weren’t very many cyclists on Bloor or Danforth. I went to O’Connor and Coxwell and on the way back down to Danforth it began to rain a bit, but only slightly more than a mist.

            My return trip took me to Dundas and Spadina, where the Chinatown Festival was going on. I walked south on Spadina because the street was blocked to vehicular traffic. Unlike the Taste of the Danforth, the Chinatown festival was almost exclusively food centred, with lots of people walking around and eating delicious looking things on sticks, such as barbecued meat and stacks of what looked like homemade potato chips.

            That night I watched an episode of I Love Lucy that had a funny reference that was very timely for 1954. Lucy and Ethel knocked on the door of a middle-aged working class woman because Lucy wanted to find out why Ricky had her address. Lucy told the rough looking frau that she was taking a poll. The woman looked at her suspiciously and asked, “Your name aint Kinsey is it?”