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Entry tags:
- china,
- health,
- mbot,
- reading_25,
- rivers
(no subject)
Physio does ouchy things to my leg after which it feels slightly better. Still buy a bottle of knock-off Bailey's Irish Cream ('made with Canadian dairy!') to go with my cold brew coffee for the owies.
I also have Canadian cherries (organic and pricey) to be caretully rationed, not because of the price but because they augment the effect of both magnesium and alcohol.
Finished Masquerades of Spring and like it very much, also the Alison Bechdal, also a pair of rather good Miss Silvers, Vanishing Point and The Girl in the Cellar. Thought I'd try one of her other series but found it was not only industrial espionage, its Designated Love Interest (a very young brainless girl the hero literally blunders into in the dark) keeps pinching him. Evidently he finds this charming. Me, I'd pinch her back, and hard.
So I beaver on through Zhang Dai visiting various shrines and mountains, and writing biographies of relatives who were no better than they should be. He has yet to go into hiding from the head-shaving Manchus who will make the latter half of his life a misery. Am also reading the Yale volume selection of Walpole's letters, that I was looking for and couldn't find five years ago. (Eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume.) Much more agreeable than the Everyman edition that divides them by subject.
Books are in transit from the library, and if I need a mood-lifter, will reread either Masquerades or Murderbot. Murderbot is infinitely rereadable, don't ask me why.
I also have Canadian cherries (organic and pricey) to be caretully rationed, not because of the price but because they augment the effect of both magnesium and alcohol.
Finished Masquerades of Spring and like it very much, also the Alison Bechdal, also a pair of rather good Miss Silvers, Vanishing Point and The Girl in the Cellar. Thought I'd try one of her other series but found it was not only industrial espionage, its Designated Love Interest (a very young brainless girl the hero literally blunders into in the dark) keeps pinching him. Evidently he finds this charming. Me, I'd pinch her back, and hard.
So I beaver on through Zhang Dai visiting various shrines and mountains, and writing biographies of relatives who were no better than they should be. He has yet to go into hiding from the head-shaving Manchus who will make the latter half of his life a misery. Am also reading the Yale volume selection of Walpole's letters, that I was looking for and couldn't find five years ago. (Eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume.) Much more agreeable than the Everyman edition that divides them by subject.
Books are in transit from the library, and if I need a mood-lifter, will reread either Masquerades or Murderbot. Murderbot is infinitely rereadable, don't ask me why.