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In the bleak midwinter
1. Bleak midwinter still beats snow; there's also a Romantic melancholy in the grey and faded browns that emerge from the melting mounds.
2. Right Knee is sulky about Left Knee getting all the attention so has begun random stabbing freeze-ups. Have given Right Knee a knee brace of its very own and hope that will calm its tantrums. Have also begun stretching both calves, as prescribed by chiropractor, though I tend to agree with acupuncturist that the fault is more likely up in the hamstring than down in the calf. (So I stretch the hamstrings too.) But calves hurt like billy-oh when prodded, so stretching is not wasted; and what helps best are![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mvrdrk's stretches from eight years back, so I do those. Do so wish cortisone still worked, even as I suspect the pain is largely tissue-related. It was tissue-related in 2006 too, but cortisone cleared it up.
3. Y'day being still non-bicycle weather, I didn't go home between acupuncture and my aunt but sat in a Yorkville coffee house surrounded by New York hedge fund manager wannabes talking importantly on cell phones, and mused on the death of a neighbourhood. Read Buddhist stories from Konjaku Monogatari just for the contrast. Cosmopolitan sophisticate atmosphere was interrupted periodically by the whoops of the Santa Speedo Run who circled our block several times. One hedge-funder told his moneyed blonde companion, "They used to run naked." No. No, they didn't. That was a '70s fad and you, sir, are showing your age.
4. I know I'm not on Aaronovitch's wave length but I've read Rivers of London four times now; and now on my fifth reread there are all these details that never registered the first time through. Aaronovitch's throwaways are so thrown away that I fail to catch a good two-thirds of them. Mind, someone reviewing Foxglove Summer remarked that oh err yeah (redacted spoiler material) *was* mentioned in the previous book. Books, she says firmly, having just reread Soho and Whispers.
5. Friends were having their annual fundraiser cum Christmas party today so I dragged myself out unwillingly-- I never want to do social things-- and was rewarded with party sandwiches (no one has party sandwiches anymore, except my aunt's retirement home at teatime and then only two kinds) and people my own age with whom I discussed aches and pains and chiropractors. All quite painless. It helps if I think of myself as a vampire who gets fed energy by interacting with humans, even in superficial ways; ie if I pretend I'm an extrovert.
2. Right Knee is sulky about Left Knee getting all the attention so has begun random stabbing freeze-ups. Have given Right Knee a knee brace of its very own and hope that will calm its tantrums. Have also begun stretching both calves, as prescribed by chiropractor, though I tend to agree with acupuncturist that the fault is more likely up in the hamstring than down in the calf. (So I stretch the hamstrings too.) But calves hurt like billy-oh when prodded, so stretching is not wasted; and what helps best are
mvrdrk's stretches from eight years back, so I do those. Do so wish cortisone still worked, even as I suspect the pain is largely tissue-related. It was tissue-related in 2006 too, but cortisone cleared it up.3. Y'day being still non-bicycle weather, I didn't go home between acupuncture and my aunt but sat in a Yorkville coffee house surrounded by New York hedge fund manager wannabes talking importantly on cell phones, and mused on the death of a neighbourhood. Read Buddhist stories from Konjaku Monogatari just for the contrast. Cosmopolitan sophisticate atmosphere was interrupted periodically by the whoops of the Santa Speedo Run who circled our block several times. One hedge-funder told his moneyed blonde companion, "They used to run naked." No. No, they didn't. That was a '70s fad and you, sir, are showing your age.
4. I know I'm not on Aaronovitch's wave length but I've read Rivers of London four times now; and now on my fifth reread there are all these details that never registered the first time through. Aaronovitch's throwaways are so thrown away that I fail to catch a good two-thirds of them. Mind, someone reviewing Foxglove Summer remarked that oh err yeah (redacted spoiler material) *was* mentioned in the previous book. Books, she says firmly, having just reread Soho and Whispers.
5. Friends were having their annual fundraiser cum Christmas party today so I dragged myself out unwillingly-- I never want to do social things-- and was rewarded with party sandwiches (no one has party sandwiches anymore, except my aunt's retirement home at teatime and then only two kinds) and people my own age with whom I discussed aches and pains and chiropractors. All quite painless. It helps if I think of myself as a vampire who gets fed energy by interacting with humans, even in superficial ways; ie if I pretend I'm an extrovert.
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