Harlequin romances, demolition of a highway, eggplants

I want to bake a cake but I only just remembered to take butter out of the freezer.

So... here are some random pictures.

This one is a card a friend sent.
Yes, I mean snail mail. Remember envelopes and stamps and writing letters? Why don't more people write letters? Are they saving the trees? I really don't think the trees mind if you write words on the paper. My day is made special whenever I get a real letter or a card in the mail. But there seem to be only a few of us who still indulge.
The card is the book cover of a 1949 Harlequin romance. Look at that title. And the men with striped and spotted wings sprouting out of their ears. How was this ever billed as a romance? Looks dystopian to me.

And can you guess what this is?

It's the last of the Bonaventure Expressway that was built in 1967 to stream traffic from the south shore into the city. The noise and dust from the demolition is astounding.

The highway didn't only go into the city but right through it. Which is one good reason, I'm thinking, to get rid of it.

I took the opportunity to find a new angle on the FARINE FIVE ROSES sign. Here it is with its reflection in the Lachine Canal.

We stopped for a drink in one of the pseudo-post-industrial bars that are cropping up near the Lachine Canal. That is not R's hat but mine that I put on his head.

In other news, the garden gods--groundhogs, squirrels, and other critters--decided to leave me a few eggplants this year. It's the first year I've been able to bring home eggplant. So I'm happy.

Butter not soft yet.