Off the Cliff

Either my legs have gotten used to boots, or compression stockings are the answer to that weird recurring thigh cramp that has puzzled my doctor and chiropractor and acupuncturists all these months. Walked all over the map today and do not twinge. Why something that stops below my knee should affect the muscles well above the knee, I do not know, but so it seems. And today one of the parents gifted the staff with a basket of socks from her company, and I snaffled two pairs of compression socks. Not the high gauge of these ones, but hey- compression is compression.

Also no one grabbed me to say Can you work for me tomorrow, so OMG I might have the day off!
( Cut for Wednesday meme )

I've never been much good at kissing the joy as it flies, though people all around me encourage me to do so-- from CS Lewis' "the one thing you must not say to God is 'encore!'" thirty years ago to but natch every Buddhist writer presently expounding on the Third Noble Truth.

However, I shall note a joy that flew yesterday: sitting in the local coffee shop finishing Hundred Demons 22, a story of Grandfather and little Ritsu (and how nice to see Ritsu's father before he died) while outside was a yellow-gold November day with the kind of blue sky that vaguely recalls Tokyo. And this, I finally figure out, is because Tokyo is full of ginkgo trees whose leaves turn yellow and stay yellow, lingering on the branches well into December, so the blue and yellow contrast is there for months at a time at the driest season of the year, when the sky actually *is* blue-- unlike, say, April and May.

Realize also that the appearance of 100 Demons is like Christmas: a very nice thing that happens only once a year (though not always in the same month.) So it's as unreasonable to say 'I want more Hyakki Yakki and I want it now' as it is to say 'I want another Christmas, in February this time.'

Autumn really is a lovely time of year. The air smells beautiful; the leaves are yellow in the sun; the days are warm and the nights are cool and one gets as close to perfection as this earth is capable of.
( Cut for Wednesday meme )

Went up to the fund-raising bazaar at the Japanese-Canadian Cultural Centre, where I've been precisely once, some twenty-four years ago or so. That time I asked the bus driver to tell me when we got to the stop; he didn't, but merrily trundled across the bridge over the Don Valley Parkway, which I had great ado to cross back. (Viz: helpful pedestrian agreed to walk between me and the guardrail so I couldn't see the dizzy-making cars speeding far below. I know streetview widens all roads, but I can't believe I crossed that bridge even with someone beside me.) Buses now have recorded stop announcements, but I double-checked with the driver as to the name of the JCCC's stop. He said he didn't know. 'But is there a stop at Garamond?' 'I don't know.' Sheesh.

Fortunately a number of right-looking people got on the (much delayed) bus with me. Just follow the crowd. Alas, the crowd all got off right after we turned onto Wynford Drive, heading to the wedding at the Korean Catholic Church there. Fortunately again, there *is* a bus stop where Garamond meets Wynford. Alas again, there's no crosswalk, traffic light, stop sign, or any way of getting *to* Garamond short of dashing across Wynford's five lanes. This is car country and don't you forget it. What a very good thing I didn't try coming here in winter darkness last December.
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