Off the Cliff

Yesterday was a total washout, literally. Monday night was a nuit blanche interrupted by rolling thunderstorms, so I read until 4 and slept in to headachy noon. It continued to storm and deluge all day and especially into the evening, as the temps dropped from Monday's muggy 20C to something more seasonable overnight. Had the heat on when I went to bed because we were hitting 4C by morning. Today, well, got up to Loblaws for milk and such, bundled up garbage for tomorrow's pickup, and made zucchini fritters. I'd grated the zucchini and potatoes yesterday with my *extremely* achy elbows-- apparently pressure changes and damp are registered in the arms now-- and tried to squeeze out the moisture through the cheesecloth I bought on the weekend. Discover that kitchen scissors and nail scissors will not cut cheesecloth. Shoved the mixture into a tupperware and had something else for dinner. Today I used a linen tea towel and that worked fine, but the carrot I was going to add had gone rubbery unpeelable and ungratable. Tossed that, added soupçon of flour and egg to the mix, and fried them up. Passable, but if I ever do this again will definitely add onion. And maybe baking soda like they say, to make the things lighter.

Have had a Dr Priestley on the go since forever and still not finished it. I want country house murders and this is about a syndicate that steals stuff. Finished Cabell's The High Place, wondering why I still read Cabell and his extremely unlikeable protagonists, a murderer in this case, as well as a horndog like *every last one of his male characters.* There's a name for why I'm doing it,  which I suspect is masochism. 'My critics think I am an enemy to marriage,' James whines. 'As a married man, I take exception to this.' Yeah well, all the guys you write can't stand their wives and go around having it off with any nubile thing available, so no wonder. I need to stop reading male authors, is what. 

I do not see me getting up at 6 ayem to see the Blood Moon. It will have to bleed without me. 

Another library book of long holding came in so I went out in sun and not-that-cold to get it. Then had indifferent grilled chicken at Pour Boy where I ate in lonely splendour. Odd. Their fried chicken sandwich is excellent, their chicken satay is excellent, but their grilled chicken is tendony and fat, like KFC in Japan.

I've been wanting an acrylic floor polish for the laminate kitchen tiles but no supermarket has it. Lotsa stuff for wood floors which tells you just how yuppie this 'hood has become. When I finally remember to google it, transpires that hardware stores sell it. And since I'm out on Bloor anyway, might as well trot over to Wieners and get my steps in. Noting along the way the many businesses that have closed: not just the vape stores and cannabis outlets, but two or three of the longtime Korean places. That odd health store with its cures for bladder problems (in men), one of the accessory hats'n'jewelry places that also changed watch batteries, another stationery store I think, Tom and Sara with its anime plushies... Anyone would think we were in a recession.

Got my floor polish and then walked the half block to Brunswick to see what had replaced By the Way. Answer is, nothing yet, though at least the sign is up for a French brasserie thingy. Presumably waiting for spring to open, which may also be the reason the high scale Japanese steak house in the old Second Cup and Presse Libre site is still at the Coming Soon! stage. That one has been in the works for close to a year IIRC and I have ceased to hold my breath.

And some day will get down the street for my quarterly blood draw, but who wants to get out of bed early these days? Only it will rain later this week and then it will be achiness rather than laziness that deters me. Not to mention grunge on the wheels, which was bad enough today with melt and rock salt applying a cm coating.

Woke up at a reasonable hour, took meds, looked out the study window, saw snow, and decided to go bak to bed. Did, and dreamed of being back at Bedford with sibs and Aunt H trying to work out how we could live there and also sell to the Chuas. There was an official sort of man pressing the point, who was some sort of policeman, but who also at one point was dealing with a chubby baby. And Bedford was definitely Bedford except that parts of it were Bedford as renovated by the Chuas.  It was the sort of dream that leaves an all-day hangover: not unpleasant, just mildly disconcerting because, well, we sold the place almost forty years ago and my aunt died in 2000, and there I was at Bedford talking to her this morning.

Eventually got up around noon and breakfasted and all. Then by a judicious but generally unadvised combination of muscle relaxants and vodka, shut my back up enough so I could scrape the snow off the steps and path. And feeling almost like old days, lifted the compacted layer of ice and snow from the pavement in front of my house and SND's, who must be away this weekend, and then a stretch of NND's frontage. We were just at freezing today but tomorrow will see a fast plunge and the slush will turn to ice.

There was a video about making lentil pancakes: boil up a carrot, potato, onion, and red lentils, blend in blender, form into patties, cook in oil. I did the veg first and separate, then added the lentils and cooked till soft. Except that red lentils immediately turn into mush so that, when blended, I wind up with lentil soup. Am clearly missing a step. Maybe I should add the breadcrumbs I do not have, or cook some green lentils to add instead. Or just resign myself to lentil soup.

Rabbit, rabbit.

Slightly warmer today, with sun, and I had thoughts about going out and shovelling more snow off the bins, but instead sat on the couch with hot beanbag wraps and finished Flora's Fury. I'm a little sad that she didn't finish the series but on balance, maybe not. Flora is really hard to take for long. Impetuous characters who never stop to think are so not my bag.

I distinctly remember buying lean hamburger once and registering it as a mistake because it was too dry to make good fried rice with. Something must have changed in the rubrics because I used lean to make beef stroganoff on Friday and it was so fat I had to soak it up with paper towels. Couldn't drain it because I added it to the vegetables I'd sauteed first-- mushrooms, onions, broccoli and cabbage. If I eat meat, it's going to be well padded with veg. Maybe if I'd served it with rice or noodles but I'm still trying to keep the starches low.

To which end it seems I lost 5.7 pounds in January (that's 2.5 kilos more or less), so my modifications are working. Yes, no alcohol works wonders. No, I still hate it.

Because my kitchen floor is technically clean I went downstairs in bare feet this morning to weigh myself. Chuffed that I've lost that Christmas kilo and maybe a little extra. Which will probably not stay off because this evening I made satay peanut sauce to have with stir-fried carrots and cabbage and ohh yum I love peanut sauce. OTOH staying indoors means no alcohol and minimal sweet stuff, so maybe.

But I washed kitchen floor again because it still looks grungy, and bent to get at some of the deep corners. The floor never gets really clean unless I sit down on it and work square by square, which I no longer dare to do, with the Goof-off I no longer have. I also had a go at the front hallway which does look slightly better. Used a squeegee mop and a cut up waffle top that had finally got holey past repair,  but for real cleaning you need a cloth diaper and the last one I had of those shredded long ago. Also am out of the acrylic stuff that gives vinyl tile a shine. However I should be pleased that I could do the crouch and push without knees and elbows screaming, or at least, not screaming today.

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.

Yes it snowed and no I didn't go out, even if the sidewalks kind of got clear by midday. Kind of. West side of street must have been salted, my side wasn't. Anyway.

Fridge started leaking water inside yesterday. Did it again today. Googled about, something that should drain in the freezer doesn't, caused by gunk or maybe ice though self-defrosting fridges shouldn't have ice. I cleaned the back of the freezer as best I could. Anything further they say requires taking the back of something off which no, not gonna do. Fingers crossed.

Have discovered that adding vodka to hot chocolate makes a lovely warming drink that doesn't upset my tum the way Black Russians do. Doesn't make me tiddly either but relaxes the muscles still. This may become my winter drink of choice.

At Loblaws on Friday a woman was handing out samples of Parma ham, which was so good I bought some from the deli counter. Asked for 200 grams, she accidentally cut me 250, which was a hideous price but hell, Christmas. And figured hell again, sheep lamb, and bought fingerling potatoes, Swiss cheese, and eggs, so that I can subsist on Savoyard omelettes for the next week. Loblaws fingerlings come in bags and are not to be trusted, but I can cut off the bad bits easy enough. Fiesta's are better and their Xmas music is nowhere near as annoying, but Fiesta also has cake slices and I must stay away.

Though the sidewalks are oddly and miraculously clear. But plastered with sodden leaf carpets so no, staying in for the duration. Cleared steps and front path though back and elbows objected strongly.

Tried making lentil curry with disappointing results. My spices may have lost their oomph or possibly November allergies have killed my sense of smell, because even the fresh ginger didn't smell or taste very gingery. However, add couscous and reconstituted raisins, a sprinkling of cinnamon, and call it a pulao of sorts.

I shouldn't be having allergies because leaf mold is supposed to become dormant when the temps go below freezing. It has and they haven't, boo hiss.

Another white night last night. Finally drifted off well after 3 and was ripped out of sleep five hours later by a caller who at once hung up on me. And I was having such a nice complicated dream too, details of course irrevocably gone.  Something to do with plots and poitics in an imaginary country. Rolled over to go back to sleep-- I get up at 8:30 for nobody-- but couldn't. Thus spent the day awake and heavy-eyed and grouchy.

Grouch contributed to the current bête noir, which is people who press the 'audible signal only' button at intersections, thinking they're going to make the light change by doing so. I know people don't read signs but on days like today it irks me unreasonably. If I weren't a Torontonian I'd ask them 'why did you press that button?' and see what they had to say, but I am and I don't. Luckily or un-, the audible signal no longer sounds when people press it: which is tough on the semi-sighted. 

Thus accomplished nothing today beyond getting a scrip from the pharmacy and cooking up the (rarely come by these days) chicken livers in a ginger orange sauce. It's been so long since I've had them that I forgot my recipe calls for green onions to go with and didn't buy any, but I did add frozen, putatively Canadian, broccoli for extra iron. I hope it's not just Green Giant putting maple leaves on their packages but eyes were too gunky to decipher the print on the label.

This blog assures me that every November I sneeze and cough and run at the nose so my current waterlogged state is simply same old, same old. Any antihistamine or sinus meds I can find of course have Tylenol in them so it's probably just as well that my system has taken against alcohol. However, when I finally weighed myself this morning after six weeks of cowardice, I discovered that last month's overindulgence in Black Russians and crême liqueurs had no lasting impact and I'm actually down half a kilo. So must keep it up. Winter and its couch potatodom are fast approaching.

 Garden waste pickup happens every other week, along with non-recyclables, and this was a recycle week. I assume Signora neither knows nor cares when it's supposed to go out. She just leaves her bags and bins of clippings piled by the fence and eventually it will disappear. Maybe it's the power of suggestion, but her two immediate neighbours decided today would be a good time to set their bags out as well. But not piled against the fence, oh no. Sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. I wrestled them back out of the way, cursing them soundly. Because they're going to leave those bags out for another week, including the three days of rain, and even if they don't disintegrate therefrom the local wildlife and dogs are apt to get at them. And the garbage guys do not take disintegrated garden bags. Yes it's a mild annoyance but seriously, why are people?

Tried DLing Greek onto the upstairs tablet and it hung at 50%. Luckily it loaded instantly on the downstairs one so I can carry on with Themistocles. Though now I'm of two minds. If I enter a Greek word in, uh, romaji, google at once gives me it in Greek with its meaning first thing. Enter it in Greek and I get Greek webpages-- duh-- and need to click on the link to wiktionary which will eventually give me a translation if I scroll down to it after the Doric, Cretan, Lacedemonian, etc. etc. readings. Maybe sticking to romaji is the way to go.

Had my monthly visit to Sushi on Bloor with their Partager wine, and that was nice. Am currently simmering the bones from that chicken I roasted along with some organic celery that was disappointingly tough and bitter, hence useless for the Waldorf salad I'd intended it for. Plus parsley (a splurge) and bay leaves (do bay leaves actually add flavour?) and a large carrot and an ancient apple that might as well go in the stock as anything. Shall definitely strain this and use as stock, since I'm tired of finding tiny bones in my chicken soup. Must have food on hand because: rain most of the weekend plus autumnal crud in the walker's wheels. Expect to be housebound for a stretch.

The posties are on strike, again, and Interac is down. We won't talk about what's happening south of the border. When I get really depressed I watch that YouTube video of the Queen's funeral ceremonies, set to Thaxted, because from here 2022 seems remarkably sane.

So I went and lined up at the Texas steakhouse to see what it's like. It's full of Dudes On Phones who still believe in six feet of social distancing because they won't step up to shorten the line that's out the door and down the street, and dudes who've been in line half an hour looking at the menu but don't know what they want when they get to the counter and must consult in detail with the BBQ guy. Fortunately the latter were behind me and I got my chopped brisket in short order from the superhumanly patient clerks. It's good stuff, but I'm glad she misheard me when I said For here (mind, the music there is loud and echoes off the high ceilings) because while I can eat a Macdos quarter pounder no problem, a quarter pound of the real thing is a good two meals for me. And of course, when I came back after shopping across the street, the line had vanished. But this is not to be taken as a hint to come at 3, because their actual closing hour is not 4:30 but when they're sold out. And anyway, there's a limit to how often I want to eat red meat.

Otherwise it's still warm but the rain may have ended for a bit. As well, because I have the mucousy cough of allergies that's not helped by mould growing everywhere. But somehow I can now walk up stairs step step step, meaning that maybe those quad strengthening exercises are actually strengthening my quads. Which is about time.

Summer returns for hopefully a brief interlude: high of 27, humidex of who knows what. Still cool enough at night that I'm not tempted to turn on the AC, though with the mug stink out there I may forego the window fan tonight.

Still trying to make Persian lima bean and dill rice. My preferred brand of frozen limas turns out to be American so I bought tinned instead. Large lima beans, it said, which was fine, whatever, until I got it open. Larger than fava, larger than broad beans: those suckers are huge. Am also seeing why the webpages say to use dried dill. I mean my dill is dried but it started fresh, and though nowhere near as gritty as some I've had, there was still something small and hard that started the Agh a tooth/ filling/ crown has crumbled!!!! panic reaction. But true dried dill doesn't taste like dill, is the problem. And yes I know I shouldn't be having rice at all, even resistant starch cooled rice, but my innards do badly with low-carb abd I can't afford to irritate them when they already want to take exception to my magnesium.

Beaver on through The Lotus Palace, my Tang dynasty mystery cum romance (alas). Am still waiting to find out who the female protagonist is supposed to be They Fight Crime!-ing with. Alas again, is probably not the dour constable of the court whom I favour, but the playboy (but is he *really?!*) dorky love interest. Dommage.

Aside from a telephone consult with my small-m medicine man, accomplishment today was taking apart one of my woodblock prints whose glass cracked lo these many years. I take my hat off to the framers of same because jeez that thing was solidly assembled. Took a utility knife and a flat head screwdriver and a hammer to prise it all apart, and print took some minor damage in the process. Half the glass is now in a bubble wrap envelope awaiting garbage day. The other half requires a larger envelope which I have not got, since I don't really want to try breaking it with a hammer to get it down to size.

Other accomplishment was getting a bottle of gin open, non sine labore, and alas I didn't manage to do it in time to ease the back spasms so that I could sweep up the linden detritus out front before it got too dark to see. Must do that tomorrow. Gardening in the back yard got me two mosquito bites on the back of my leg (well, I hope they're mosquito bites) and I hope to be spared that in the front garden.

But consoled myself with my favourite dinner, poached duck egg on an avocado-spread slice of bread. Caraway rye would make it perfect but no one has that anymore.

Ohhh Emma, Emma. Pearl clutching at the very idea of people of different classes dancing together! How can we tell who is Topp if we so promiscuously mingle together?

Then came
Brother Elias, scowling, to his side,
Small-souled Elias, crying by book and candle,
This was outrageous! Had the friars no pride?
Music at deathbeds! Ah, the shame! the scandal!

Though now I have to wonder, what exactly is meant by elegant in Austen? Jane Fairfax is elegant but what does that mean in a purely physical sense? Who do I know who is elegant? E2R I suppose, by default, but otherwise--- no Trump spouse, obviously. Michelle Obama? Uhhh. Mh. Margot Fonteyn was, but dancers have to be. I'm inclined to say most French women, just going by what I saw 40 years ago, but I can't isolate wherein exactly the elegance lay. And I won't even try to imagine what was meant by elegance of mind.

Have been trying to make the Persian dish of dill beans and rice, and conclude from the online recipes that, in the words of a long ago friend, all ethnic cooking is designed to keep women in the kitchen. No I am not going to steam my rice, thanks ever so. But if I try this again, will use lima beans, not the many-shelled favas.

Otherwise tackled the side bedroom and vacuumed up many dust elephants,  so go me for that.

Severe thunderstorm warning last night-- hail, rainfall, etc etc-- led me to leave the green bin out on the front path in hopes it would wash the insides. Did wonder if the linden's branches would get in the way, but if we were going to have torrential downpours that shouldn't prove a problem. Dunno if we had torrential downpours because the AC unit and fan together blotted out the sound of rain, but this morning the green bin was quite as sticky as ever. Shall have to boil up some water and try that instead.

I can normally drink tap water no problem, but my water  bottle makes it taste funny no matter how often I disinfect the bottle with boiling water and scrub it with a bottle brush. Started using tumblers instead, water still tasted off, so maybe summer is affecting the pipes. Bought a Brita unit, followed all the instructions, and-- the water still tastes funny. Absolutely will not buy bottled stuff but may start boiling my drinking water instead.

So I did miss the Ontario cherries, so sad. Fiesta has bags and bags of luscious dark cherries but they come from Washington state. A boycott is a boycott, even if a state is blue, so... no cherries for me. Have apricots instead.

 The real heat arrives tomorrow so today was prime 'sit in front of fan and read' weather. Only of course I vacuumed, upstairs and down, because clean floors help with the depression that heat engenders. Also it kept looking like rain so I didn't go out. I kept wanting to order in but all my electronics needed charging simultaneously, and my phone- the semi-exception- wouldn't give me any restaurants on Skip the Dishes except a single Indian one. What I wanted was Vietnamese and enough to last me the three days of the heat dome. But I also have the makings of either mushroom or hamburger stroganoff and should make *that* before the heat arrives. Weather pages can't decide if it will be 30 or 35, which is a considerable difference.  So yeah, in hunker down and survive mode here.

Noodle around on YouTube with Murderbot clips. Will never watch the whole thing but excerpts are nice. Only as someone else said, the theme song of Sanctuary Moon is both annoying and unforgettable, so I combat it with Holst's Thaxted.

Awoke at what my retiree's brain considers too early, but I'm way overdue for a blood draw so I did exercises to get me able to walk, then consulted the weather app that said it would start raining in fifteen minutes. Which was so much for that idea, so had breakfast. And of course it didn't rain at all through the day, which was devoted to sloth because I was tired from being up too early.

But did manage to cook the hamburger bought Saturday. I found a long ago recipe for stroganoff in the recipe file I had some 50-odd years ago, when a year was much longer than it is now. Called for my usual onions sauteed in olive oil and mushrooms plus the garlic I never use because garlic doesn't like me, minus the ginger and greens I put into my hamburger dishes to give them flavour and foliates. And I nearly forgot the ginger this time so added it later. But the recipe also required cream of mushroom soup, a NAmerican staple (like onion powder) that I've never cooked with because my French mother wouldn't use a tinned soup where a homemade roux would do. (Is roux the same as a white sauce? Cause her white sauce was pretty damned bland too.) But I bought some to try-- low fat because I think I may have encountered mushroom soup in the wild and not cared for it. It certainly adds a certain something to the dish which obviates the need for sour cream, or the full-fat yoghurt that I use instead. Could also make beef stroganoff kosher, if that's required. Mind, it also makes the dish very very filling. I couldn't begin to think of serving it with noodles. That would be overkill.

Peak couch potatodom achieved. Rain all day but downtown microclimate seems to have preserved us from the freezing rain. My weather app is set to Midtown and said ice, but I belatedly remembered that Midtown is probably a good deal north of me ie up the hill where the weather changes so that when I have rain, my sister at Davisville snows. Did put on boots and hooded winter jacket to check if the shiny pavement was slippery or just wet, and objective test said wet, so now I am back on the sofa with Amongst Our Weapons (and the slow-moving Mexican Gothic and the antsy for no good reason The Art of Vanishing, neither of which I much want to read.) Rain has made joints ache so I have accomplished nothing all day bar cooking up the thawed chicken breasts for salad tomorrow. And the tarragon I got from Loblaws was off, so even that was a bit of a failure.

(How can tarragon be off? No idea, but it smells moldy. Loblaws is not to be trusted but Fiesta didn't have any.)

Leg has seemingly calmed down so this morning I went downstairs and weighed myself, to find I'm exactly the same as a week ago which was the same, to an ounce, as the week before that. This is dispiriting. So much for 'any intermittent fasting works' because I regularly don't eat from eight or nine at night to ten or eleven the next morning.

But did go to the basement and put through a dark wash, and didn't trip and didn't die, so go me.

Have been indoors all weekend for no good reason beyond having all I need here and two 'six people waiting' ebook holds come in. Polished off Salvation of a Saint yesterday, a Higashino Keigo mystery that I'd half thought of reading in Japanese. Good thing I didn't because I can't think how I'd have dealt with the hardware of plumbing which plays a part in the investigation.

Unfortunately I also had wine on hand which led to the usual tipsy thinking of let's order in, and did, resulting in a disappointing pad thai. Nice as it was to have noodles for the first time in a month or so, I could wish this rare indulgence had been tastier. And Skip evidently no longer tells you when the driver's about to arrive so 'track this order' went from 'eight minutes away' to 'delivered and here's the photo.' 

My heart sank when I looked out the window this morning. The promised wintry mix of last night was mostly freezing rain, and the prophylactic sprinkling of salt I'd put on the sidewalk when taking the garbage out (first time in three weeks) was no match for it. But temps rose during the morning and it was gone by mid-afternoon when I went out to vote. There were still a few spots where garbage bins and snow berms made passage a bit difficult but I made it to Palmerston, and then back to Fiesta because I was craving sugar and Fiesta has cake slices. Only none that I wanted, so I got two chocolate chip cookies instead. And discovered that hallelujah, there are Ontario grown 'living lettuce' plants for 2.50. I'd been resigned to no leafy greens till spring and making do with Loblaws green drink which I suspect is cheating, because it has kale and celery and orange juice which I'm pretty sure comes from the US. Chuffed also to find that my favourite Cortland apples are Ontario grown, and that there are indeed Canadian walnuts available: except they're the huge bags I'd never be able to get through before they went rancid. But if I'm dying for a Waldorf salad come spring, it will be doable.

But definitely I need to get a No Canvassers sign made for the next election. Or will tell the canvasser of whatever party I'm voting for to puhleeze not come checking up on me again cause once is enough. As for the Liberal canvasser who came round this morning-- guy, where were you types when the campaign was on? Day of is a mite late, don't you think?

However, since I was already downstairs I weighed myself. Nice if I could keep dropping 3 pounds a week but probaby not healthy, so this week was a mere 1.6 pounds. Slow and steady, and (fingers crossed) I have registered a change in going up and down stairs. Fingers crossed again, because knees are just as likely to start twinging and refusing to take my weight if the weather changes, which it will.

Either my Good Neighbour or a bobcat shovelled the 4 in/ 10 cm of snow from my sidewalk last night. Or maybe both, because bobcats don't clear steps and someone did mine. Or maybe a Very Good Neighbour because I could see in the distance, down the block, the occasional area of white which a bobcat should have taken care of. Whatever, I didn't go out today except briefly to clear my slightly snowed over front path and to remove the snow mounds from the garbage bins against Thursday's pickup. Forecast says flurries all week, which may mean occasional flakes tumbling from the sky like today, or may mean another 4 cm.

Didn't go out yesterday either because I was listening to Der Fliegende Hollander, oddly enough since I have little use for Wagner. But wiki tells me this is an early work and hence not as discordant as the Ring. Still a bit, umm, oompapapa for my tastes, but then I have no taste. And then it was 4 o'clock and thinking about snow, so I made devilled eggs instead of going out. Note that devilled eggs made with Kewpie mayonnaise are the bomb and also extremely indigestible.

Have also been micro-cleaning, given the intransigent spasming of my hip flexors that nothing will unkink. So yesterday I vacuumed the living room and hallway, and today I mopped the accessible portion of the front hall and lick and promised the stairs. But also finally got the screws put into the dirt devil to fasten the canister holder to the stem. And if you want bad design, this was it. The socket for the screws is right beside the long stem, meaning no room for your hand to turn the screw. Thus you turn from the outside a quarter turn, then move back for another quarter turn, then move back etc etc. And it's extremely tight and not at all doable by anyone lacking the upper body strength of a young male. But it's done, only now I need some young male to loosen the filter holder for me because that one's frankly impossible.

Shall note that there's a bloody big Conservative election sign four doors up at the house that sat on the market for months and months because no one is buying. I believe someone finally did but this is the first evidence of life I've seen, from someone who has no idea what kind of neighbourhood they've moved into. The polls all say DoFo is leading. Which would be disheartening except for my belief that feds are always the opposite of Ontario so Polievre the Trump toady will stay out of power. But these are the end times and maybe that bit of common wisdom won't hold anymore.

This is December Dead Days weather long before the Dead Days. Because of the postal strike there are no Christmas cards to look forward to,  and because my weight refuses to drop in spite of daily bike machine usage,  there are no Christmas treats either. I suppose I must stop eating pasta but carbs, precious carbs, are all I crave in these grey dank days. Well, and wine, which I should stop as well until temps go below zero and the rotting leaves stop releasing their moldy spores into the air.

Reread A Christmas Carol because the library had the e-book on loan and I haven't read it in decades.

Discover via youtube that men have extra long colons, that being what ur-uteruses turn into in baby boys. Possibly that explains why they take so long over their BMs, something that always perplexed me. Makes up for their enviably instantaneous pees, I suppose.

Have invited bro and s-i-l out to Korean barbecue next week. S-i-l will probably not like it because, well, she tends to find fault with things, but at least she'll have her fill of protein.

Someone on the FFL was reviewing The Man in the High Castle and remarked on the odd English used that was supposed to suggest either a second language Japanese speaker or a rendering in English of what people were saying in actual Japanese, neither of which sounded likely to them. I noticed none of this when I read it so many decades ago, so I got e-book from the library to check. (Because I'm not going to go squinting at the high shelves ha-ha in the bedroom where I know I still have a copy.) And yes, the English of the Japanese characters and the American people speaking to the Japanese is indeed odd, sorta kinda like a second language speaker. What I misremembered from the 80s was that the book takes place on the west coast and not in the New York that my 80s mindset automatically placed Japanese expats and tourists. Still sent it back after a few chapters because brane still will not, and got Albert Campion short stories instead.

Loblaws tempts me with its premade beef stroganoff meals. Bought one and ate half (880 calories for one meal being excessive). Woe is me. I like pepper on my pasta and suffered in Japan because the Italian restaurants never had pepper on the tables. Hot sauce, yes. But the pepper on this is laid on with a heavy hand and I have no sour cream to ease its bite. Do not, do not, understand people who like their food to hurt. Doubtless all to the good, since I don't need pasta, but am sad still.

Project Tiddly continues apace, thanks to which I was able to do a tofu stir-fry today, with bok choy getting past its expiry date and healthy-looking mushrooms from the Used Vegetable department (the remainder of which I will roast soon, this time preheating the pan in the oven so it doesn't warp suddenly on me like last time.) Also tinned bamboo shoots and water chestnuts in (what once was) easy open peel off cans, which now require sturdy knives and pliers to open. NB stick with can opener types. Should do me for most of the week: is the downside of cooking for one.

Occurs to me that half the TFL/ hip flexor/ piriformis tsuris might be down to not having bicycled on a real bicycle for 30 months. Can't see a way around that but would explain much.

Having exhausted the library's supply of E C R Lorac's (Carol spelled backwards) MacDonald mysteries, discover that the mighty river has them for US .99 apiece, or rather more with a low loonie. But not to be sneezed at, so I have more Golden Age mysteries to read. Also pseudo-Golden Age because vols 1-3 of Freddy Pilkington-Soames were on sale for less than vols 2 and 3 separately would come to. Thus I have enough to get me to Wednesday morning.

Also have Sheine Lende, the prequel to Elatsoe,  the sorta A/U book about an Apache girl which, mirabile dictu, didn't have the usual YA romance plot thank ghu thank ghu, and which I read flow-wise just after Winter's Gifts. Must also finish up Delicious in Dungeon to date because vol 10 is due back at the library on Thursday.

Mh well, got my covid booster. Moderna this time, and I took Benadryl beforehand and iced the spot after, so we'll see how that works.

Read an article that said you can roast frozen veg but you have to start them from frozen. Did, and it works fairly well. Plus point is they don't require oil, since the oil needed for most roast veggies always gives me indigestion. Or mostly always. The mezze platter I had at the AGO the other day had peppers and tomatoes swimming in olive oil with only mild fallout. But at those prices I'd expect the AGO to use only the top quality echt extra-virgin. I use light oil anyway because super-smeller me can always detect the heavy olive taste in anything else: always supposing the olive oil you buy at Loblaws is in fact olive oil.