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Up and down Huatzi Ridge
Up: Acrobatic medieval babies. I like this more than I should.
Down: raccoon poo on my flat roof below the study window. Brother vows swift vengeance once they return from the cottage; I put more faith in chili flakes. As we alas know from work, once raccoons start using your roof as a toilet, they don't stop. On the plus paw, they don't live where they poo. On the pluser paw, my roof vents are at least theoretically safe from their intrusions, for which I suppose I must thank the good-luck bad-luck? intrusive squirrels.
Up: a new, cleaner, coffee shop has replaced the old one on Shaw St. Yes it's all concrete and wood and pot lights, but the staff are nicer, the food is better, and the yups with their damned Macs haven't completely invaded it as yet. (And even if they do, it has a large communal table as well as small ones, so one can always get a place.) Also it's surrounded by turning-yellow mountain ash trees.
This is good because Down: my old coffee shop has been invaded by a middle-aged woman who sits there all day, doing the sudoku and crosswords in the common-property newspapers, and reading snippets of articles aloud to the friend who sometimes comes and joins her. The Apple'd yuppies are every bit as me-first as she ist but at least they're quiet. Except when they're not, of course.
Up: long Thanksgiving weekend and sun forecast for at least two days of same. Down: next door is celebrating at the cottage, so no home-cooked turkey dinner. Up: local restaurants will provide turkey din for a reasonable price, and I'm not noshing on bread stuffing for a week.
Up: biked to Eliot's Bookstore through the unspeakable jungle of construction and road repair in and about Wellesley and Yonge, and found little Rutledges 'most everywhere: all the early volumes that the library has banished to Agincourt and such places. Bought three, not the six I might have, because there's a quantum difference between having another book in the series once you've finished the present one, or two books if it's a long weekend and the local bookstores are not obliging; and having a stack of books in a series that you are obliged to read. I have the former; the weekend could rain all three days and I'd be supplied.
Down: another tic I keep noticing now: Rutledge always takes steps two at a time, even when he's not in a hurry.
Down: raccoon poo on my flat roof below the study window. Brother vows swift vengeance once they return from the cottage; I put more faith in chili flakes. As we alas know from work, once raccoons start using your roof as a toilet, they don't stop. On the plus paw, they don't live where they poo. On the pluser paw, my roof vents are at least theoretically safe from their intrusions, for which I suppose I must thank the good-luck bad-luck? intrusive squirrels.
Up: a new, cleaner, coffee shop has replaced the old one on Shaw St. Yes it's all concrete and wood and pot lights, but the staff are nicer, the food is better, and the yups with their damned Macs haven't completely invaded it as yet. (And even if they do, it has a large communal table as well as small ones, so one can always get a place.) Also it's surrounded by turning-yellow mountain ash trees.
This is good because Down: my old coffee shop has been invaded by a middle-aged woman who sits there all day, doing the sudoku and crosswords in the common-property newspapers, and reading snippets of articles aloud to the friend who sometimes comes and joins her. The Apple'd yuppies are every bit as me-first as she ist but at least they're quiet. Except when they're not, of course.
Up: long Thanksgiving weekend and sun forecast for at least two days of same. Down: next door is celebrating at the cottage, so no home-cooked turkey dinner. Up: local restaurants will provide turkey din for a reasonable price, and I'm not noshing on bread stuffing for a week.
Up: biked to Eliot's Bookstore through the unspeakable jungle of construction and road repair in and about Wellesley and Yonge, and found little Rutledges 'most everywhere: all the early volumes that the library has banished to Agincourt and such places. Bought three, not the six I might have, because there's a quantum difference between having another book in the series once you've finished the present one, or two books if it's a long weekend and the local bookstores are not obliging; and having a stack of books in a series that you are obliged to read. I have the former; the weekend could rain all three days and I'd be supplied.
Down: another tic I keep noticing now: Rutledge always takes steps two at a time, even when he's not in a hurry.