Off the Cliff

flemmings @ 2025-12-25T19:56:00

2025-12-26T01:16:56Z

Christmas eve was nothing much but a chance remark on FB led me to Google and YouTube, so I now know what a descant is. It's notes sung *above* the main melody and not, as I thought, something sung below. Or falling, or whatever. Requires a choir because you can't sing descant yourself unless you're Agnes Nitt-- though I vaguely recall some kind of singing where one person does sing two parts somehow.

The sun shone today, for a single interval in what has otherwise been a string of grey Dead Days. Slept in, took my time over breakfast and squaredle, then opened my presents. A marvellous knitted cowl from incandescens which will be greatly appreciated when I have to go out again, because my aging floppy hats no longer suffice to keep me warm. Also a Gladys Mitchell for my collection, for whichmany thanks. From Finder Jean, a year of the horse papier-maché horse and a canvas tote bag with Miyajima's torii on it. Aesthetic and useful both.

Cooked up my turkey roll with frozen veg and unfrozen potatoes, which turned into satisfying stodge. Turkey rolls don't naturally make gravy but with a little water can be induced to produce something like. Otherwise stayed tiddly on White Russians and may well do the same tomorrow if it snows as much as it says it will.

Put out my recycling for tomorrow's deferred pickup and that was that.

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flemmings @ 2025-01-05T20:29:00

2025-01-06T01:52:17Z

Either Canada Post has taken to late night deliveries in order to catch up, or it has quietly reinstituted Saturday deliveries in order to catch up, but for certain my mailbox was empty late Friday afternoon when I came back from physio, and was full when I opened the door Saturday to watch for my Voila delivery. (It's not just the delivery guy, a second language speaker, who pronounces it Wulla. The ads do too, and it offends the French part of my genome no end.) The mail was all November stuff caught in limbo. My new credit card, thereby easing that anxiety. The Canuck dental plan telling me I qualify (thanks, guys) and that Sun Life will be sending me my card and paperwork 'within the next three months' (oh thank you *so* much. Yes I know why they have to go through an insurance company-- health insurance is otherwise a provincial responsibility-- but have we noticed that insurance companies are in rather bad odour these days? and isn't Sun Life the one currently diddling the civil service? Also I have a dentist appointment in ten days and hoped to be covered by then.)

More happily, Finder Jean's Christmas present made it though the one to my sister got sent back. I first thought it was an obi but no, it's a bag made from an obi, and is beyond elegant. I shall take it with me to the Art Gallery and other places that require you to check backpacks. Though it's actually quite big enough to carry a slim laptop if one were so minded.

A Nicholas Blake came in from the library finally and I was all set to sit back and enjoy it at my fave Japanese restaurant. But it turns out to be one of those 'international conspiracy to bring down His Majesty's government' ones, and though I trust it's not as batshit as any of Dame Agatha's, I can't be having with international, or even intranational, conspiracies, so back it went to one of the two people waiting for it. And then as I was leaving, my nameless friend the waitress who always opens doors for my walker came outside with me and confided that the restaurant is closing at the end of January. Rents on Bloor are too high, etc etc. I can't tell you how upset I am about this. New Generation has been there for decades and the staff know me and and and. Now would be a nice time to win that 60 million lottery that's going, but lottery wins don't happen when you need them.

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Snow is falling, snow on snow

2024-12-23T20:07:45Z

The forecast Monday snow arrived last night and is supposed to return this evening. But it was only flurries when I set out this morning and the city-salted sidewalks were still clear so I wore my shoes. Of course when I came back there was an inch of the stuff, but still, fine. I cooked up the turkey roll yesterday and thought to buy another, but Loblaws is chary of their turkey rolls for some reason. There were none at Thanksgiving and none again today. Ah well. One roll should last me a while. And alas, my arthritic elbows are too weak to heft a real frozen turkey into my cart, even were I minded to. One can have too much keto, after all.

Oh, and my lost gloves probably did fall out of the shallow pocket of my good winter jacket because one glove did that today. A kind Loblaws employee ran after me with it. But seriously, North Face, for what you cost and the fact that it's certainly not a coded female jacket, you could have deeper pockets.

The new shovel arrives, theoretically. I say theoretically because there's a distinctly unshovel-shaped box on the porch. Am I to assemble the thing? I suppose I should go and find out.

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flemmings @ 2023-12-26T20:29:00

2023-12-27T01:46:28Z

The trouble with sleeping past 11 is that I can't roll over and go back to sleep as I can do if I wake at 9. Yes, well. Life is rough.

Of course I also woke out of a frustration dream of trying to get three babies back to daycare, at night, in a triple stroller, through the University College (UofT version) campus, gone suddenly baroque with steps that aren't there and narrow gas lit passages, also with steps, that lyingly promised to take me up to Hoskins and Trinity College (again, UofT version: universities in the Brit-sphere have no innovation with respect to either names or architecture.) Could gave done without that, especially as my Christmas Eve dream was a charming cosy murder mystery. I believe the white-haired Miss Marple-ish sleuth was in fact the murderer.

Weather is mild but grey and dank, and is supposed to rain all week, which is par for the Dead Days but also dispiriting. We may see some sun on Saturday. I went out today since the PoP was only 56% and got misted on. Tony Korean restaurant was fairly full, even at 3 in the afternoon, but the Koreans make the most of their holidays. When they get them, because the big supermarket and greengrocers were open. Bought celery for future turkey salads but was so full from egg and beef donburi that I skipped dinner.

To get xmas music out of my head I went looking for that Kenyan song from many years back Mama nipeleke kwa baba (Mama, take me to my father.) Then started googling around to find what the swahili means and discovered that nipeleke is a very useful phrase for things like 'take me to a hospital' (hospitalini)- I mean, should you find yourself sick in east Africa some time. They also tell you how to say please, which I can't remember because there's no catchy tune to teach me tafadhali. So then I had to look at Duolingo for swahili which starts you with pronouns: mimi (I), yeye (he, she), sisi (we), wao (they), and wewe (you, sing). Oh. Years ago a roommate told me how to say The elephant is about to step on you in Swahili. Tembo is elephant and wewe is you but my memory of the verb, after 40 years, must have become corrupted, because I remember it as 'na piga' but you can't prove it by any Swahili verb chart. And after googling a bit about verbs in Swahili, I once again resigned myself never to learn that language. Verb prefixes for both subject and tense? No way. Might as well learn Basque if you're going that route.

Honestly, why do people think Japanese is a hard language? Yeah, there's causatives and passives and passive causatives, but they're quite regular. Presumably if you hear the Swahili version of I am going, you are going, he is going often enough, the sound sticks in your head as easily as, well, 'I am going' etc. (or wasuresaseru). But life is too short at this point.

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flemmings @ 2023-12-25T17:26:00

2023-12-25T22:47:25Z

Turkey roll is heating up. House smells like Christmas. Had my restaurant Christmas dinner yesterday and decided to stay in today. It's mild and damp outside and I'm not really up for cleaning leaf debris-- if not worse-- off the rollator's wheels.

So I made me do some housework during the day because I've been too achy to do much this last week. Thus the kitchen floor is passably clean and one shelf of the fridge has lost its sticky whatever. I should have vacuumed as well but I didn't clean the canister and filter last time, so had to do it this time, and it takes 24 hours to dry.

After which I rewarded me by opening my presents. Gladys Mitchells from Incandescens, fuzzy socks and a new year's dragon door wreath from Finder Jean, an assrtment of rice crackers from Fearless Leader as well as um 'exfoliating foot masks'. Booties that you wear for an hour which are supposed to smooth your rough skin. This sounds intriguing. I shall be interested to see how they fare against my horny callouses.

My one Christmas treat, bought on Saturday, was frozen profiteroles from Loblaws. Someone brought them into work once and I've been fighting the temptation to buy them again for probably the last five or six years. Having now done it once I shall never do it again because lord but they're good. The other indugence was sour cream, something I've always said was too calorific to consider. But I had some hamburger and I had some penne and instead of fried rice I wanted to make a pseudo-stroganoff, and did, and yes, that was delicious too. Leave out the pasta and it's actually low carb, especially if I throw in some broccoi or bok choy for the veg factor.

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flemmings @ 2023-12-15T19:53:00

2023-12-16T01:13:34Z

For once this decade I managed to get all my Christmas cards written and mailed with a minimum of internal hysterics, though that might be partly owing to a few names dropping off the list, and partly to there being nothing else I had to do. Still have a few seasonal snarlies, as when reading Piers Morgan's take on Prince Harry (what's with right-wing types' reflex projection? The editor of the Daily Mail's relationship with the truth is flatly adversarial) and the young idiot who decided to strike up a conversation with me as I was trundling home (we Do Not Do This in Toronto, unless there's less than ten years difference between you) which promptly turned into him telling me that masks don't work and why was I wearing one anyway? I should have said, 'So I don't have to smell that cigarette you're smoking' but because it's Christmas and I'm out of patience I just said Go away, and he did.

One reason to wear a mask is because temps reached a dizzying 14C/ 57F and all the leaf mould allergies came roaring back in the bright sunshine. Actually they've been doing it for days and I've been sneezing and hacking clear mucous up because of it. I'd almost rather have something actually in the lungs than this chronic post-nasal drip, but then I'd probably fret about COVID or RSV. So I keep hot beanbags on my chest and round my sinuses, and sleep propped up.

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flemmings @ 2023-12-07T11:57:00

2023-12-07T17:03:18Z

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2023/dec/07/the-20-greatest-christmas-carols-ranked

Thank you, Guardian. Though I personally loathe Silent Night and have a fondness for oh Quem pastores and The Boar's Head Carol and Es ist ein rose entsprungen, I'd much rather hear any of these than the dreck that gets played in the stores these days.

Though Steeleye Span's inimitable British Latin is a joy to hear.

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flemmings @ 2021-12-26T17:03:00

2021-12-26T22:34:43Z

Common wisdom is that at the solstice, it's dark at 5. But here we are, four days after, and it's light enough to see things clearly. No streetlamps required. Didn't think the sun came back *that* fast.

Quiet Christmas Day, of course. My expensive turkey dinner was good enough, though oddly the veg parts were better than the protein and carbs. Kale slaw, spicy squash mash, garlic mashed potatoes, beets. Elder bro dropped by with my present. I'd asked for a bottle of Bouchard Père et Fils Macon Lugny, a pleasant medium priced white wine. He brought me four. Thing being, when it seemed unlikely I'd make it to the LCBO at the end of the street- supposing I'd want to go to the LCBO preholiday in this time of omicron- I e- transferred him the price of ohh a large bottle of gin and a medium bottle of vodka, and he then proceeded to spend all of it on my wine. Fortunately I discovered a specialty wine store rather closer to home and got two bottles for emergency gift giving, so sent the red one home with him. With the wrong Christmas card in the bag but that's what comes of having two cards starting with J and not turning lights on to see which is which.

Today's meals have been on the disaster side. Started cooking a simple pasta lunch, discovered when I had the butter and seasonings added that the parmesan cheese had gone moldy which I didn't think parmesan could do, put unmoldy half on pasta but too bad, still tasted moldy, so dumped it all. Then there was the asparagus I cooked the other day and should have drained and put in the fridge, but kept it in the water to reheat and eat. This worked yesterday. By today, even boiled in new water, asparagus had acquired that unmistakable tinned asparagus taste. Blecch. So also into the compost it goes.

The one exercise I should do and don't is the sit and stand one. Is ok when getting off bed and futon, both of which are high, but owie when getting up from any chair in the house. Mostly because the other knee pangs and complains and buckles. This also makes going upstairs an unpleasant experience. The instinct of many years is to put my weight on my right knee, but right knee and hip now wince when I do, and left knee isn't quite strong enough to take my weight unsupported. I stll go upstairs step step step, hoping to strengthen things. But I'm still not strong enough to go downstairs that way-- I have to hop which is unadvisable on home stairs. Also right knee is much more tractable going down than up, so I'll still be doing step-foot step-foot for a while.

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Plethora of presents

2021-12-22T01:04:26Z

The city of Toronto's planning department, as in duty bound, is constantly sending me notices of meetings at the Cttee of Adjustments, always of recent home buyers who want minor or major variations of the bylaws so they can have a third floor or an extension at the back or whatever. These are delivered to people within a one or two block radius, I think, but I'm not going to fash myself with what happens to a house across the street and twelve numbers up. Got another of those yesterday and would have binned it right away, but curious, thought to see who was building in the wintertime during a virulent pandemic. And a good thing too, because it turns out to be a cheque for close to $250. Only explanation on it is the terse note: tax rebate. But what taxes? Property tax rebates are handled by simply not withdrawing the usual installment. And though I know I've had water and garbage rebates in the past, they never took the form of a cheque. Of course I'm glad to have it, only... there's no ATM nearby to deposit it at. Or not at my current range of doable walking. Which today got me up to the end of the street for a prescription that hadn't come in, and two pricey bottles of wine to gift my next doors on either side. Pushing a rollator over rock salt and unshovelled slush is not fun.

The more so as today was a bad stair day, where both knees pang when going up and down, or occasionally when walking on the level. And since the dry cough, sneezing, and back pain are still with me, I cancelled my physio for tomorrow. This ought to ensure that I rise hale and sound with the sun bright in the day, but I'm not counting on it. But if it works, I might venture over to the laundromat to wash my sheets and blankie (yes, I have a blankie, the terrycloth sheet that, balled up, provides the cushion that all side sleepers are supposed to hold on to) and a couple of sleep hoodies as well.

However, in nice news, incandescens' present arrived this morning. Worried about that 'don't leave it near the radiator' message, I opened it up right away. Rum soaked raisins and marzipan figs. Yumm. And then a box of hazelnut truffles from South NND left in my mailbox, with a card thanking me for being so patient with Sadie the Dog. I texted her back with my thanks and the assurance that Sadie is a Very Good Dog and no trouble at all. (Unlike the Local Playwright's untrained chronic barkers across the street.) But as she's currently in Alberta, I'll have to wait to give her her wine.

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Merry Christmas to all

2020-12-25T22:37:34Z

Quiet Christmas day started out v. pleasantly with the discovery that someone (south NND, Phantom Snowblower, Kris Kringle?) had cleared my sidewalk, front walk and steps of last night's heavy snow. Thought 'Oh dear south NND keeps giving me presents and doing me favours I really must get her something in return' (Japan-induced Law of Equivalent Exchange reflex), then thought 'You know all those decades you spent shovelling snow so all the arthritic old ladies on the street could get to the stores? You're the arthritic old lady now. Let the wakamono have at it.' Which sort of thing takes a Boomer by surprise but is also unarguably true.

However they didn't shovel past the walk way, leaving two metres to be done, so after putting my turkey roll in the oven I booted up to do it, only to find that north NNDs had cleared it while shovelling their own sidewalk. So that was that.

Then had my turkey and mash and green beans, and opened incandescens's present. Which turns out to be the thing I always wanted and didn't know existed, the text and translation of Yosano Akiko's tanka collection, Midaregami/ Tangled hair. Have read the introduction so far and sheesh was Tekkan even more of a horndog than Rexroth would have him. And she had thirteen kids by him while producing a dozen collections of poetry and a modern Japanese translation of Genji. Admirable woman (up to a point: she later turned deep-dyed imperialist) but not, I think, someone I'd be comfortable knowing. Too much of Sei Shonagon (crossed with Izumi Shikibu). Probably made for an uncomfortable lover as well. But ars longa: I can still enjoyher poetry.

But thank you, incandescens. I foresee many hours with this book.

(There was a kind of... colophon at the end of the movie The Return of Martin Guerre, that mentioned that only a few years later the judge in the case would be put to death and said I *think* something to the effect of 'but all these people are dead now'. Does anyone else remember that? I've never been able to track it down, short of renting the film, which now you can't do anymore. Have to use netflix or something.)

(Oh, ok. Everything exists on the net except not in French. "For his Protestant beliefs Jean de Coras was hanged before the Toulouse Parliament with a hundred of his friends. But we live only by the spirit. All else dies.")

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flemmings @ 2020-12-22T19:39:00

2020-12-23T01:00:59Z

Called my doctor to get the results of my three weeks ago' blood tests. Marvelous, magnificent, blood sugars and cholesterol have plummeted well into normal territory. So can I stop taking those statins? Oh no, it takes months for cholesterol levels to change. But mine have changed in the last four months. No, best wait till spring and then maybe I can go on half doses. Argh. Doctors do so love their statins.

However blood sugars are likely to go up again, at least for now, because my thin mint cookies have arrived, and I'm eating bread again, however whole wheat and seedy, and indulging in p&b sandwiches, and drinking wine on top of it. It's Christmas in the plague year and one needs support until the days start growing noticeably longer. May just add an extra half hour to my biking time.

I was finding that growing tedious, but-- well, t'other day I was hading to acupuncture in a cab when acupuncturist texted she was running late could we start ten minutes later? And I of course fifteen minutes early, as always, had to find some place to pass the time and so went into the foreign newsagents near by (near in the days when I could walk: a five minute limp in my current crippled state.) Browsed about, saw no books I wanted, but to show willing bought a back copy of the New Yorker. Turns out the New Yorker is perfect bicycle reading: light enough to hold while my knees bounce up and down (whoever called this an under table machine lied in their teeth) and engrossing enough in content that I don't notice time passing. Possibly might opt for a subscription, depending on finances.

Also came home yesterday to a gift bag from south NND, with a jar of mulled cider and a box of almond brittle. The latter I dare not eat for fear of losing fillings, crowns, and chunks of teeth, alas, but the former I can drink and do. Very cinnamony, which I hear has health benefits.

And G, your parcel also arrived today in case you were worrying about mail from the UK. I look forward to Friday to discover what it is.

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Possibly last Christmas next door

2019-12-26T03:32:03Z

So now my s-i-l is talking about cooking a suckling pig. 'But is your oven big enough?' her daughter asks. 'Oh no, we'd have to do it outside on a grill' says L, which ok maybe you can do on an apartment balcony, but suggests more strongly that she thinks she'll be here next summer.

Unless she's intending to cook suckling pig amidst the winter snow.

Went to Starbuck's for my morning latte, not as good as my local but oh well. Local is closed till after New Year's while the owner (s-i-l's grandson's girlfriend) visits family in Vancouver. Came home and fell asleep again. This unwonted somnolence is, well, unwonted. Considered opening my presents but did laundry instead because it was that kind of a day, so I left my prezzies as a post-dinner treat/ cheer-me-up.

But when I got to them after an abstemious repast (mustn't drink if I'm going to keep falling asleep, shouldn't drink if my sinuses are as clogged as they are)-- the day took a happy turn for the better. Incandescens' big squashy parcel turned out to be a thick hand-knitted shawl in my fave shades of wine and deep burgundy, and I'm currently wrapped up in it urm trying not to fall asleep again, because it conduces to comfy coziness and closed eyes and, well, sleep. It has the usual faint perfume of all G's productions, because she washes her hands in Lush soap while making them, and Lush is nothing if not tenacious. But in small quantities it's very Heian, and I appreciate it. So thanks very much, G.

Also there was an amusing present from a coworker, the most recent hire who, mindful of the undepaid life of an assistant, always gives me appreciation gifts at Christmas. Her Christmas bag contained socks (you remember that at a certain age socks become a welcome gift?) of a much better quality than my dollar store ones, as well as a small box of very good fair trade chocolates. And at the bottom was a small heavy oblong thing which- well, you see, whenever people at work say 'Oh thanks so much for helping out when we were short-staffed/ covering me when I got stuck in the subway/ taking care of the garbage and the diapers and the laundry', charmless me can be heard answering 'If you really want to thank me, buy me some gin.' So this time, K did. Bombay Sapphire, my tipple of choice.

Thus to all, and especially me, a good night.

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flemmings @ 2019-12-25T12:59:00

2019-12-25T18:18:04Z

"Try taking your meds earlier in the evening," he said. "That might change their effect," he said. Not quite. I drift off to sleep at 7 pm, dream a whole horror story from Rod Serling's Triple W (witches, warlocks and werewolves, IIRC, though I only remember one warlock story), and wake from the tangled unpleasant web of ghostly beings and rape some eight hours later to discover my time sense has gone westward-jet-lag and it's barely midnight. Take out lens, stumble back to bed, sleep another eight hours body-time and wake to continued darkness. It's barely 5 am. And I'm still sleepy. So lie abed in the snug and do a recap of my childhood Christmas mornings where the hours go by and it never gets any lighter and maybe the sun has forgotten to come up today?

But OK, the sun did come up and it's a Tokyo Christmas morning. Merry Christmas to all who celebrate and happy holidays to those who get them.

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Alas

2019-12-18T02:16:26Z

Work is all gingerbread, peppermint bark, and sugar cookies. I can resist chocolate but not baked goods.

Also it seems I've signed up for Spotify since it has such obscure items as The Purcell Consort's Music to Entertain Henry VII, which exists chez moi as an ancient and doubtless fragile tape from the mid-80s and a crackly record that I have nothing to play on.

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Laeti triumphantes

2018-12-22T02:18:05Z

Or laeta triumphans, since there's only one of me. BUT:

Work over until a week Wednesday.

Postal strike not only over but caught up, so:

Lies Sleeping in the mailbox today. (Along with your Christmas card, G, and thank you for both.)

Aya de Yopoungo 4&5 in at the library.

That's me sorted for at least the next week.

And while we speak of an embarras de richesses, my duvet people have said oh g'wan, keep the other duvet as well. So I have two flannel duvets I'm not mad about, but economy says oh hell might as well use at least one of them. So... I suppose I might as well use at least one and give the other to the Diabetes or CP people.

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Dilemma

2018-11-25T20:41:10Z

It's very nice that Lush has a million and one present packages, but why doesn't it have gift certificates? I can't use 90% of their products, given my oversensitive nose, and I'd rather not give products blind that may affect the recipient the same way.

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Makes her feel the way she used to feel

2017-12-29T04:04:29Z

Erranded in a satisfactory fashion today: the library, the bank, a post box, Doug Miller; subwayed back a stop and bussed up to Loblaws and got necessities there. It being a month till my next cortisone shot and bitingly cold, my knee likes to tell me about its lack of cartilage, but is still generally well-behaved. Heat patches took care of the hip. Shoulder and elbow... ah well. But nonetheless, after I got home, I took my trusty ice chopper and (carefully, I assure you, and very mindfully) removed the packed snow from the Indian Gardener's Son's house, and the Picket Fences house, and the Blasted Maple house, and the Nice But Messy house, quite as if it was ten years ago. Haven't done this in three years, and the inability to shovel has bothered me no end. No, this won't become a habit, alas, but is so satisfying in the meantime.

My bro and s-i-l surpassed themselves in the gifts department this year. Bro gave me a Johnson Cocktail Kit- Bombay Sapphire gin, Noilly Prat dry vermouth, Cinzano sweet vermouth, and a bottle of olives. Fretted about the lack of a cocktail shaker, but I assured him I take my cocktails stirred, not shaken. And measured by eye, which I didn't say because it would have distressed his purist's soul.
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The ways deep and the weather sharp/ The very dead of winter.

2017-12-27T01:13:36Z

There's no starch in the house because if I have it I eat it. But yesterday I was dying for bread, having missed out on the carb-fest that is Christmas dinner, and also on the turkey part as well. I had liver and ginger stir-fry, but that wasn't what I wanted: I wanted white meat and bread stuffing. When next door forgot the care package they promised to bring round before taking off to the wilds of nowhere for the cousins' Boxing Day party, I had no choice but to head out into the -22C gale (-7 for the F folks.) And happy to do so because I am not a homebody, and being indoors for a whole day (yesterday) makes me antsy.

So I double and triple and occasionally quadruple-bagged myself (quintuple if you count my camisole underwear) and headed out. Sun shone, wind had dropped from yesterday, I had my hiking staff, and the sidewalks were generally clear or flat. So I walked over to Pauper's Pub and had their exceedingly indifferent turkey dinner, but it was mash and stuffing and gravy and rather more turkey than I wanted and rather less cranberry sauce. And so my itch is scratched, and I walked back home as well to work some of the piggishness off. Walking is still miraculously easier than last year, or in shoes this year, and so I must hope it continues.

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Quiet night

2017-12-26T00:25:06Z

It's sad when you reach an age that socks are a welcome Christmas present, but I got socks for Christmas from Finder Jean and am very happy. Also a New Year's wreath and year of the dog figurine. Oh, the year of the dog! 1994, back in Tokyo, and astonishingly a quarter of a century ago.

Don't yet know what I'm getting from bro and s-i-l because I have incipient malaise which suggests I not go next door and drink/ eat heavily; maybe tomorrow.

But had a good day nonetheless, in that I got to do all the things that tendinitis stopped me doing yesterday, like vacuuming the downstairs, putting through laundry, cooking up those chicken livers, and (new this day) clearing the snow that fell again last night. All of which makes me very content to be inside in my clean house, wrapped up in quilts and drinking sweet tea. This is a cold winter so hibernation is strongly advised.

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In the bleak midwinter once more

2017-12-25T00:31:21Z

Vallista was very entertaining. Unfortunately it's left me with the desire to reread the whole series again, in my lazy end-of-year snowed-in fashion.

Not sure if we *are* snowed in, or if it will stop at 2-3 inches. But the tendinitis went ballistic today, turning into worrying and painful neck twinges, and I won't be exacerbating it with shovelling. Should not be exacerbating it with typing even, so must stop here.

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and to all a good night.

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Stuff

2017-12-11T03:31:49Z

1. I rarely listen to music so that when I do I find myself back in the time when I first heard that particular album or whatever. Thus have spent the afternoon in 1996 (Loreena McKennitt) and 1998 (Carols from Clare) where I didn't exactly want to be. And still can't find 1994 (Rankin Family, Fare Thee Well Love). (It's a compilation tape that has a version of Brave Marin that youtube wots not of. Thought it might have been by one of the Mcgarrigles but evidently not.)

2. Have written most of my Christmas cards. Can't remember who I sent cards to last year: have a feeling I wimped out on the local ones, but then remember someone thanking me for sending her one.

3. Having had enough of the recurring fly, I bought fly spray yesterday. When fly appeared in the study I swooshed it. fatal error: spray is headachey scented, worse than the worst anti-odorizers. Had to open window and turn on fan.

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Silent day

2016-12-25T22:26:53Z

If there's a better way to spend Christmas than reading the newest Aaronovitch. I've yet to find it. Many thanks to incandescens for this particular treat.

(It's been *two years* since Foxglove Summer. Where does the time go?)

The s-i-l posted this graph on FB. Coincidentally, coworker gave me Santa Claus patterned rubber-soled socks for Xmas. Of course I was delighted.

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Grinch

2016-12-19T01:04:01Z

My aunt's retirement home actually had a concert of Christmas carols yesterday. Carollers and young kids, cheerfully amateurish and upbeat. Such a pleasant change. But to make up for it, the radio station this morning's taxi driver was tuned to played Santa Baby for half the ride.

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Friday Gratitudes

2016-12-17T01:59:59Z

1. Three Xmas cards in the mail. True, one was from my chiropractor, but cards are cards in this e-age.

2. I have gin and two kinds of vermouth, so surcease from pain awaits me when I get home.

3. Hydro bill arrives. Saga here- last bill I underpaid by a couple of dollars, and then when I noticed the fact I added an extra whatever-it-was ($3? $4?). But maybe my fingers slipped on the keyboard or maybe I was feeling flush, because I actually topped it up by $40, so this month's bill is twenty and change.

4. Bar acts of God, only one place I must be tomorrow and one Sunday, and otherwise I shall lie in bed, or on bed, with heated beanbags, and read my Dr Siris and listen to the snow turn to sleet turn back to snow. (Listen because the side bedroom has shoji screens that shut out the dispiriting view of the house-next-door a scant five feet away from me, if that.

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Doldrums

2016-12-11T03:15:11Z

I always drag my feet about writing Christmas cards, which leads to them becoming New Years cards. It's hard for Eeyore here to find positive things to say as the season gets colder and darker- and I ALSO have to wear boots and my knees hurt and my feet cramp on the icy sidewalks etc etc. My message of good cheer usually defaults to variations on 'Hope next year is better than last' while being quite certain it won't be.

This year of course the pessimism is empirically justified. But I consider that we've had eleven months of WW1 centenary celebrations and many articles about the hideous and appalling and stupid things that happened a hundred years ago. So there's one cheering thought. Things are not- yet- as bad as 1916.

(There's also the intellectual schadenfreude of Neon Trotsky's tweet: "the CIA protesting a right wing president being installed by a foreign power might be the funniest thing that has ever happened.")

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