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Physicalia
Since I started doing acrostics and stopped playing online solitaire, my tendinitis has... improved, at any rate, and my sense of futility has decreased a little. Acrostics take longer than solitaire, but there's an ending to them, unlike the mindless misery of one game after another.
The effects of cortisone shots is usually: month 1, free as a bird, I fly; month 2, twinges now and again especially on achey days; month 3, back to normal levels of crippledness. I am a week from my next shot, and the month 3 symptoms have only just started. This makes me happy. OTOH, they *have* started and the bike that allows for mobility at such times is not usable: so it's going to be a long and activity-curtailed week.
Woke at 8 this morning from ativan sleep (needed for the unpleasant things I did to my leg yesterday, wearing grippers on the wrong boot) turned over and went back to sleep until 10, in which time I dreamed I was at an Italian hotel in the mountains on a group or family tour, and there were no toilets in the bedrooms or the public washrooms. Other guests didn't seem to be bothered by this, but I was growing increasingly perplexed by the vanished facilities. Turns out the owner had hidden them all from us because the last time our business co-ordinator booked rooms for a staff holiday, back in 1990 when C didn't even work for us, she'd cancelled some reservations without notice or shorted him on something, and this was his revenge.
Finished?
Brust, Phoenix
-- in which Vlad continues to seek his own salvation to save the person who really and truly would rather he didn't. Men, said Jessica.
Reading now?
Pu Songling, Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio
-- present from Incandescens. The excerpts I'd read before were all about devoted and domestic fox spirits (!) so I was delighted to find that there are lots of different kinds of stories here, some of them very short, some longer, with lovely illustrations from a late-19th century edition of the book. This is great before-bed or weekend afternoon reading.
Andrew Lane, Young Sherlock Holmes- Death Cloud
-- much better written than I'd expected, and no more not-Sherlock than Cumberbatch.
Next?
Started Athyra, discovered that Jhegaala comes before that chronologically, so shall read Jhegaala. Happily, because Athyra's non-Vlad narration sits badly with me.
amazon and Canada Post are indeed running slow with their deliveries. The next Rivers of London comic is coming from England (bought with that British book token I unwittingly gave myself last month) and may arrive before spring.
Apropos of which, in one of my FB comms, someone suggested that Foul Ol' Ron is the deity of the Ankh River. Which just makes so much *sense* one is sad all over that Pratchett isn't around to be told about it.
The effects of cortisone shots is usually: month 1, free as a bird, I fly; month 2, twinges now and again especially on achey days; month 3, back to normal levels of crippledness. I am a week from my next shot, and the month 3 symptoms have only just started. This makes me happy. OTOH, they *have* started and the bike that allows for mobility at such times is not usable: so it's going to be a long and activity-curtailed week.
Woke at 8 this morning from ativan sleep (needed for the unpleasant things I did to my leg yesterday, wearing grippers on the wrong boot) turned over and went back to sleep until 10, in which time I dreamed I was at an Italian hotel in the mountains on a group or family tour, and there were no toilets in the bedrooms or the public washrooms. Other guests didn't seem to be bothered by this, but I was growing increasingly perplexed by the vanished facilities. Turns out the owner had hidden them all from us because the last time our business co-ordinator booked rooms for a staff holiday, back in 1990 when C didn't even work for us, she'd cancelled some reservations without notice or shorted him on something, and this was his revenge.
Finished?
Brust, Phoenix
-- in which Vlad continues to seek his own salvation to save the person who really and truly would rather he didn't. Men, said Jessica.
Reading now?
Pu Songling, Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio
-- present from Incandescens. The excerpts I'd read before were all about devoted and domestic fox spirits (!) so I was delighted to find that there are lots of different kinds of stories here, some of them very short, some longer, with lovely illustrations from a late-19th century edition of the book. This is great before-bed or weekend afternoon reading.
Andrew Lane, Young Sherlock Holmes- Death Cloud
-- much better written than I'd expected, and no more not-Sherlock than Cumberbatch.
Next?
Started Athyra, discovered that Jhegaala comes before that chronologically, so shall read Jhegaala. Happily, because Athyra's non-Vlad narration sits badly with me.
amazon and Canada Post are indeed running slow with their deliveries. The next Rivers of London comic is coming from England (bought with that British book token I unwittingly gave myself last month) and may arrive before spring.
Apropos of which, in one of my FB comms, someone suggested that Foul Ol' Ron is the deity of the Ankh River. Which just makes so much *sense* one is sad all over that Pratchett isn't around to be told about it.