flemmings | Entries tagged with reading

Laundromat achieved but I'll have to go back soon because socks. Oh for the days when I didn't wear socks in the summer. Oh for the days when I felt safe on the basement stairs. But it won't hurt to do laundry in hot or warm water once in a while.

Chuffedness of the day was resetting the cordless phone's time, which had unaccountably vanished after a recharge. Chuffed because the manual was exactly where I thought it would be and the instructions clear, so go me. This after I didn't go to recycle Sunday because the bag of batteries wasn't where I thought it would be and I didn't locate it until much later.

Reading-wise, finished Saint Death's Daughter and sent it on to the waiting hordes. I liked it well enough, even if at times it reminded me of de Bodard's Aztecs. And I still wonder at the cover blurb promising love, tenderness, and joy. I mean yes, there was that too, but only after you'd waded through an awful lot of carnal, bloody and unnatural acts, accidental judgments, and a ton of casual slaughters amounting to genocide. Game of Thrones may be worse but only because it's longer.

Currently on the go are:

The Odyssey in the ancient Penguin Classics translation. If I ever do read Wilson, it might be an idea to know what she was working against. Because frankly, Odysseus is a dweeb, a fact I evidently ignored fifty years ago;

Damned, latest and last? of the Scarlet Revolution series. Should have reread Elusive to remind me where we are but I got immersed and have not got lost yet;

Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, partly as fallout from The Scholar and the Last Faerie Door, partly because a big thick book is good sitting in front of fans reading. Am finding the Stephen/ Lady Pole sections much harder going than the last two times. The Gentleman fits very nicely with Ima Ichiko's observations on the habits of youkai (ie their values are very different from ours) but though this is true, what's nauseating about the Gentleman is that he recalls the worst examples of humanity. I will note that my last reread was ten years ago when the world seemed still to be a sane place.

Speaking of unlikable people: an e-book hold came in and I clicked on it because Miss Silver and her romantic young things and Inspector Littlejohn and the Isle of Man were getting a bit boring bicycle-reading-wise. But turns out Saint Death's Daughter is a 750 page thumper with two more people waiting to read it, so I must beaver away at it, because also I will forget who is who and why if I leave it. And pace the blurb, there are no warm fuzzies to be had with so far, just a lot of bloodthirsty types being bloody and mass-murdery. Not as rebarbative as Gideon the Ninth (which I bounced off of so hard I gave myself concussion), actually almost reminiscent of Flora Segunda and her Mama General, but still. Although the necromancer heroine is the nicest character around, and almost sweet with her revivified mouse skeletons.

Finally did a little gardening, mostly cleaning twigs and detritus from the front path. Still have balance problems when wearing shoes, though the spasming back doesn't help. Should probably book a massage some time. But weather remains unchancy: rained most of yesterday as coolth moved in, was supposed to rain today as heat returned, is supposed to rain tonight, nado nado.

The cool temps aren't as cool as I'd hoped, but will take them over the high 20s forecast next week. Am seriously considering returning Amina for the next person because what I want is easy care, tried and true Brit stuff, Miss Silver and Inspector Littlejohn, not complicated fantasy. However, Damned finally appears in the middle of postal shenanigans, so shall read that as a compromise: Brit (alright, European) fantasy. And thanks very much, G.

I sometimes zone out into semi-sleep and have fragmentary dreams that confuse me when I come to. Haven't done it in years and don't even know if I did it this morning, but all through physio I was tormented by the idea that I'd been googling something or saw something on Facebook that involved scheduling for something and I couldn't remember what it was. Which might have been doom-scrolling with half my attention or could actually be a mental glitch. Not helped by air quality, mug, TO definitions of too hot, or whatever else that was futzing with my breathing. We'll be back to the mid-teens briefly by week's end, which will help. I am part Pratchett troll and my brain doesn't operate at anything over 20C.

Finished The Scholar and the Last Faerie Door, and Sethra Lavode, also a couple of Miss Silvers. Must start The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi.

SND texts me about is it OK to get an arborist in to cut the branches of the cherry that overhang her yard, on account of cherries not being good for dogs. Never bothered Sadie but Ollie is a very young pup and a different breed. I of course said yes and offered to split the cost. Knew there'd be a major expense this year to offset my virtuous thrift, but oh well.

The air quality alert continues but today didn't rain, so I went out to the library for a hold and to Sushi on Bloor for their lunch special. Which may help the current wanhope induced by mug, isolation, and (waves hand) All That.

Returned two of my books, one unread, and debated returning The Scholar and the Last Faerie Door as well. I never read The Secret History-- I think I quit after three pages-- but this is giving me serious Secret History With Magic vibes. I suppose I could look at reviews but if it turns out not to be that, I shall be annoyed at myself. The trouble is that my experience of Parry is that she never surprises: you know where things are going and they go there. But of course she may have changed: as Chakraborty, whose City of Brass was such a downer that I had to abandon it half-way if that, has apparently just come out with a swashbuckling Muslim pirate tale-- which was the hold I picked up today.

Though all I want to (re)read is Murderbot, Brust, and Ancillary Sword.

Meanwhile I need to get to the laundromat some time, and out of the house tomorrow, because it's Open Tuning again, when people who can't sing demonstrate that fact, mic'd and amped to the max.

Possibly the air quality, possibly the heat, possibly the mug, possibly vaccine fallout still after nine days, but I felt lousy most of today. Physio helped a bit, as did eating lightly, but will be happy when that cold front comes through tonight. Did get two heavy bags of garden waste out for tomorrow and must get the green bin stuff too, but I hold off on that because it's nicely frozen in the freezer and will melt outside in the warmth.

Nice thing today was passing Loblaws café area on way home and seeing, through the window, a guy reading an honest-to-god paperback book which was an honest-to-god Penguin Classic edition of Plato. Couldn't make out the title but I think it was the Meno and the Protagoras.

Finished The Path of Thorns, The Lord of Castle Black, and various Murderbot. Am on The Scholar and the Last Faerie Door, Sethra Lavode, and desultorily Shadows of Athens. Will probably buy Fugitive Telemetry because Murderbot suits my mood just now.

Motion is lotion, you say? Can't prove it by me. 8500 steps and all of them painful, or at least more painful than they should be. But--

Got the (probably) last dark wash until autumn done and on the line. After removing dead mouse from basement, and why are there dead mice in my basement, I want to know? They should be outside providing food for cats, raccoons, hawks, and coyotes.

Got clothes off the line before the grey clouds rolled in. Weather page insists the sky is clear and POP is 0. Weather page is not to be trusted.

Got Pride flag onto pole and-- back protesting mightily-- pole onto hooks on porch. With more protests and swearing, got pole fixed so that flag is less likely to droop in the middle. Still droops, but not as much.

Got to BoM for cash and negotiated the Bathurst and Bloor sidewalks thronged-- nay, black-- with the heedless youth of TO, or at least the heedless youth of Central Tech, released from class, travelling in groups, and not looking where they were going. I *may* have bumped accidentally on purpose into a few backpacks, but heedless youth did not heed even that.

Got to Bakka Phoenix for my two Murderbot books. Thought of adding Fugitive Telemetry but will try it in Kobo first. I remember not being that taken with it.

Thought of going to my Brunswick local for a pricy dinner since I was there anyway, but the pierogies at Future's called to me instead. And a good thing, because local now closes at 4 on Mondays.

Dream that I'm in London, taking the Tube from my hotel, except that like Tokyo, the London underground also connects to trains within the city. But I was very underground in grey dark dirty concrete caverns, and the subway trains took forever to come and I was missing both my phone charger and tablet charger. Ran into my brother, there for a separate business meeting along with his besuited English counterpart, who told me I should go back to the hotel to get my chargers, so I waited for my subway train, and waited and waited and waited...

Some of this is owing to The Scholar and the Last Fairy Door, and some perhaps to bro and s-i-l taking an hour to get to the restaurant by transit when it should be straight up Bathurst, two stops to St George, and a ten minute walk max up Bedford. Bathurst doubtless being the culprit, and dedicated lanes south of Bloor a very good idea: except that it's a streetcar south of Bloor and no way to stop people sitting on the tracks trying to turn left.

Wild temperature swing yesterday, up to the mid-20s, followed by nose dive overnight so today was grey and cold and windy. But I went out to dinner last night with bro and s-i-l at their favourite bistro and decided to try using my hiking poles rather than the walker. Which was as well, because restaurant no longer has its patio at the front where the sloping brickwork obviates the need to hoist walker up or down. Has moved to the back of the restaurant, with planters blocking it off from the alleyway beside it. Able-bodied people can walk between the planters, walkers cannot. But I went through the restaurant with steps up and steps down and more steps up and found that hiking poles do not cut it. Also was wearing what I thought were a more reasonable shoe than my boats but in the event, no. Should have worn the boats, probably should have used my Gandalf staff, most certainly must do my neglected balance exercises.

Also backyard patio is under an overhang, meaning noise bounces up and back, meaning I couldn't hear half of what was being said to me. My hearing is still good enough but not with ambient noise. Granted, the front patio wasn't sheltered from the weather and in a town that rains as much as this one that's a drawback. But if we ever do this again, I'll insist on Not On Friday. I reserved my cab in advance but the dispatcher called ten minutes before pickup and asked was it OK if he came ten minutes later? Friday traffic, and he came in twenty minutes. (For a 6:30 dinner reservation I'd normally schedule the cab for 6, knowing that Diamond comes early. But without my walker to sit on, I was afraid my back might act up while I was waiting, so made it 6:15.)

Then returning both bro and I called Diamond. Mine came first, and as we were tooling along, dispatcher called the driver and asked if he would pick up the bro-tachi after dropping me off. Singular dearth of cabs in TO on a Friday, go figure. Called bro to say my driver would come back for them, garrulous cabbie said 'Tell him to have the patience of Job', so I passed the message on. Cabbie also told me to use cod liver oil, applied externally, for aching joints. Um well, advice from grannies it sounds like.

So that was my social outing for the month. Next must get me down to Bakka Phoenix on Harbord to pick up the two Murderbot books I ordered because still cannot parse eformat. But also Kindle has taken to hiding my purchases from me, so couldn't find Rogue Protocol on my phone, until I looked on the tablet where I'd been reading it. Then phone kindle said Oh, you wanted *that*, well why didn't you say so? Wonder what else the app is hiding from me?

The only way I will not drink is simply to have no alcohol in the house. OTOH if it weren't raining and I didn't ache from vaccines and gardening, I might not need alcohol at all.

Have several books on the go and don't much want to read any of them. Discover that yes, I did read Network Effect and Exit Strategy in dead tree last year, is probably why they made more sense then. Sent Meddling Kids ebook back to the library because it was clearly heading towards Lovecraft Land and I have very limited patience (read: none) with abominable eldritch horrors and elder gods and whatever else horripilated that very unpleasant man's skin. Also The Village Library Demon-Hunting Society, because it was set sort of this-world, not the pleasant otherworld of Waggoner's first two books.

Have KJ Charles' Think of England which is clearly heading towards disaster! before I presume happi endo, and I don't want to be there for it. The mystery set in ancient Athens with a playwright is pedestrian, because anybody writing theatre in ancient Athens is up against Mary Renault, even if I *know* Renault was cheating. She cheats so plausibly, is all. The Path of Thorns is growing tedious for no good reason, just it is. Have yet to start The Scholar and the Last Fairy Door, simply because Perry and I are a bad fit. So I read Paarfi instead, and even Jhegaala, because I am loose-ended in the extreme.

Did dream pleasantly last night, or rather this morning, of cleaning up at daycare with Daycare Hugh who in RL is as retired as I, and about to become a grandfather. Which segued into me buying a dress at a dress shop on the second floor of a nondescript outlet, sort of hidden from the masses behind a special door. Dresses turned out to be hand-decorated by the middle-aged woman who let me in to the large room where the special dresses were.

Other reason I can't get out is that my feet crack deeply and constantly unless I pumice and moisturize them before the cracks get too deep. I have a crack across the instep of my right foot which is hard to get at, what with pumice, elbows and ticklishness being as they are, so I have essentially a deep cut on the sole of that foot which is taking its own sweet time closing up, in spite of first aid cream and bandaids and all. Have bolstered the bandaids with panty liners to cushion it, but it still hurts to step on. So yeah, couch potatodom it is.

It stopped raining long enough for me to get to the library for the amazing number of holds that trotted in last week. Skies are still November dramatic but temps got up to the mid-teens so I was fine with just a cloth jacket. This after bumping the thermostat up last night to a heady 18C, because Thursday night I froze with it at 16, in spite of two wool blankets and my down duvet. Wind is what does it, as ever.

The neighbourhood lilacs have mostly scattered ahead of the Glorious 25th.

City mails me the form for property tax and water relief a tad early. Maybe because another postal strike is in the offing? Of course I can apply online. Yeah. 'What you will need: tax statement (check), property tax bill (check), utilities bill (check), a printer and a scanner. Yeah, right. Every impoverished oldster has those. So I will courier the thing instead.

Vlad was getting up my nose so I went for Murderbot instead. Kobo not being amazon is its one selling point, because the Kobo app likes to give me black screens if I pause my reading too long so I must back page and reopen the book. Is also very slow at resizing the font. I suppose I'm expected to buy an actual Kobo reader, which no. And I'm finding it very difficult to parse the action on either e-reader. ( Artificial Condition is on kindle app, Network Effect on Kobo.) Which is odd, because I think I read it in e-format from the library. I may have to buy it in dead tree at this rate.

Also shoulder has started to object to the weather along with elbows and knees. Woe is me.

Nothing day. Rained. I drank wine, finished Tiassa, and went on with All Systems Red that I bought on kobo last night. Did some of my balance exercises. More rain tomorrow. Maybe I will stay in bed.

So now I know that 9:30 is not the time to go for a blood draw. 40 minute wait, said the screen. But moot anyway because my requisition form is out of date. She called my doctor's office and of course C said she'd fax it off right away and of course she didn't because C's time sense is not mine. Now I recall, we went through this before, so before I trundle down there again I will call her and ask if she did. And if she did, I'll go at the more reasonable hour of 10:30 or 11.

I have to tell myself that just because I don't want to move because it hurts to move is no reason not to move. Thus I accomplish things like washing the kitchen floor and vacuuming the hallway of its winter salt, though surely I've vacuumed in the last two months: but then again, we had snow in the last two months. Then swept the front porch of the leaves that accumulate however much I sweep, put out a bag of garden waste and two bags of garbage. Much wine was required to get through all this. I showered before physio today but must shower again because today is warm.

Reading-wise I finished Tsalmoth and am now on Lyorn and Dzur, the latter being phone reading. This is a terrible idea because I have a bad enough time remembering what happens in any one Taltos book, but too bad. Tiassa and Vallista to go. And still occasionaly dipping into Ghostland, which should finish some time.

Cherry blossoms fall in drifts now. A fast season, this one, between wind and rain and occasional heat. My physio was talking about a tree on my street that has what I identified as double sakura-- deep pink. I went looking for it as I came home, thinking it might be the one to the south of me that the yahoo owners cut down. But in fact it's one that was grafted onto a regular cherry, so most of the blossoms are white but the ones on the south side are pink.

And of course not two pages later the author of Ghostland mentions John Gordon and The House on the Brink. But I am reading more Insp. Littlejohn because I can't read dead tree while bicycling and I must bicycle to offset the alcohol if not the actual carbs.

Wasn't intending to listen to Saturday at the Opera but happening to turn the radio on, there was The Marriage of Figaro which of course I had to stay in for. Alas that the broadcast only demonstrated that no one else quite comes up to the standard of Te Kanawa and von Stade. I should put that on the CD player for bicycling to, having exhausted my collection of Bach and not sure where to get more, now that amazon is a no go. Also Vivaldi. I like the Four Seasons but the hunting section now reduces me to giggles. Tumpti-tump-tump, tumpti-tump-tump, tumpti-tump-tump tum tum tum, tumpti-tump-tump tumpti-tump-tump tumpti-tump-tump TUM.

Couch potatoing, plus pizza yearnings, plus grape wine drinkard-ing, and there is no health within us. I could at least have walked over to the pizza place but the weather page was saying rain and thundershowers, neither of which happened, so I ordered in and waited and called to the delivery guy as he was heading across the street because of course they had the address wrong. Some day I shall exercise, and maybe even garden, but that day is not today.

Returned a book to the library then went to check the holds shelf-- because I missed a hold on a book I wanted when a system glitch didn't tell me the hold was in, so now I no longer trust the system. Then as I was returning, saw out the corner of my eye a book entitled Ghostland, about the author and 'ghosts' in the English countryside as encountered in reading and (more than I'd have thought) on TV. Which is pretty much up my alley especially as he plunges right in with M.R. James's Lost Hearts. Didn't know that was set in the fenland but will believe it. Especially because of an unpleasant encounter with a John Gordon novel set in what I assume was the same area (yes: The House on the Brink set in East Anglia, with bonus possible! bog people and someone experiencing a sensation 'like graves opening', which phrase has haunted me for decades.) Of course he then segues into the more congenial Green Knowe books. Even though the original Green Knowe is also haunted.

This is fun even though I have to skip over all the bird and flora detail that goes right past a Canuck city child's knowledge. Brent geese? Grasshopper warblers? I can't recognize even our own urban birds by their calls though I think the pew-pew-pew birds are supposed to be cardinals? Anyway, in short order we're back to the master of the unheimlich, Robert Aickman, evidently also a fenman. Really, one wants again to quote Auden's stricture on flat places: Oh God, please, please don't ever make me live there.

Not helped that my other reading is The Haunting of Hill House because I've never read it and should. But. But. Jackson's stories are often enough allegories like Kafka, and as C.S. Lewis correctly said, rot him, if you know the plot of an allegory you don't need to actually read it. So I'm tempted just to wikipedia it. Or return to Paarfi, now that I've refreshed my memory of what Adron's disaster was. Or maybe finish Broken Homes: but I still can't envisage Skygarden and anyway-- well, yeah.

My ankles have ballooned from warmth, though it's not yet that warm: maybe in anticipation of tomorrow's 20C; or from indulgence in Cake, though that's a bit fast; or just Because. Should elevate them here on the sofa but not until I finish this.

Finished High Vaultage, well enough in its steampunk fashion but would be better if the prequel-- a podcast I *think*-- was also in print form. And The Baron of Magister Valley, also well enough except I skimmed over Paarfi being Paarfi being tiresomely prolix. This has left me with a desire to reread The Viscount of Adrilankha, which I may do. Searching for same on the study shelves got me also a Belne fantasy manga which I looked at and concluded that my Japanese no longer exists. However, bought new reading glasses this afternoon because the study ones are completely foutu, and this may help with reading manga. Because I got them at Blawblaws they cost three times what the dollar store would charge without any guarantee of being any better, but the dollar store is not come-attable these days when the panhandlers are back at Bathurst and Bloor. If and when my refund comes, maybe.

Purolator succeeds in delivering me my tax return in a timely fashion and I succeed, I hope, in Fedexing it to Scarberia-- on a blowy chilly Novemberish afternoon-- so accountant can submit online and I can get my hefty refund in a timeliesh fashion as well. (Should you be wondering, the French for Misdirected is Malacheminé.) Not a patch on the people who file in February(!) but they, I assume, have only their work income to declare. And then I can reapply for the dental program which I profoundly hope will be still around after the election. Someone on a local forum was complaining that the advance polls were all happening on the Easter weekend. Diddums. It's not like Easter is one of the High Holidays that requires 24 hour attendance-- and even if it were, there's like four whole days and what's so special about Saturday or Monday, I ask me. Granted, Monday is a school holiday in lieu of Sunday, is how the advance poll can operate out of a school, but so, bring your kids with you.

SND put her garbage out early so I assumed she was off visiting family out west, but I just heard Oliver barking in the back yard. So maybe she is and he's with a sitter. But I saw him doing zoomies about his yard late last night; crap, what's that thing darting about in J's yard?? (Is raccoon and coyote mating season, so yanno, worry.) But was just Ollie getting his energy out.

I've put out a full recycle bin because two weeks ago snowed, as well as what I've been intending to do for a while: half a bag of indifferent BL manga. Many more bags to go. Downsizing is not fun.

Reading this week was Murderbot 2&3 which apparently I bought in kindle. Probably the perennial Inspector Littlejohn, and the seemingly perennial High Vaultage which nears its end, fortunately. Then can start on the last Paarfi of which I have no expectations at all.

Accountant's minion emails me Saturday that my return is ready and I can pick it up in outer Scarberia at my convenience. I email her back that I'm near as dammit housebound-- only a slight exaggeration-- and can she courier it down to me, and she says Sure. So now is to wait its arrival. I have a Fedex sticker on the door which I believe obviates the need for a signature, but I'd still be happier if I was in when it arrived. Porch pirates have been sighted in the neighbouring side streets. Is supposed to rain tomorrow, so I can stay in, but I have physio on Tuesday.

Found that I bought Artificial Condition from kindle at some point so I reread that, because High Vaultage is slooow. Must get myself the Kobo app so I can buy stuff from them. But not soon because in addition to those tops, I bought the latest Points in dead tree from Indigo. This after buying it in e-form from the press, which said they wouldn't ship books to Canada. But it reads all wrong in ebook, so I suppose I'm glad to have it in a congenial format. However that and my cell phone exhausts the discretionary spending limit on my card. If I'm getting a refund on my taxes then I shall buy Murderbot 3 and all the Ferrars that Kobo has and Kindle doesn't; but if not, then it's belt-tightening time. Trump's flip-flops make it a bad idea to take money from my portfolio any time soon.

Yes, thank you, that's how you prepare for an election: id cards with when and where to vote, and time and place of the advance polls, delivered three weeks before the date. DoFo, take note. This election is odd in that, when a Liberal pollster knocked on my door last night, I greeted her with open arms and arranged for a sign in my front garden, which isn't a lawn please note. Ordinarily not a fan of Freeland but these are not ordinary times. And it will at least discourage other pollsters. Four doors up has a PC sign, again. Rugged individualist or failure to read the neighbourhood. My younger bro is showing signs of leaning that way, or at least is moaning about the terrible last ten years under the Liberals. What he has to moan about I can't imagine, but probably has to do with insufficient funding for the air force.

My days of eating Japanese and Korean may be numbered. Hands simply cannot cope with chopsticks anymore. Unless I swallow pride and ask for forks, or eat sushi with my fingers which of course the Japanese do, but I don't know if our Koreans know that. Hands also have trouble with soup bowls, and I shall mention that miso soup stains something awful. Or rather, cannot be rinsed out and requires the full laundry treatment.

Have finished Whispers Underground and am actually able to follow the Misérables journey through London sewers this time. Might move on to Broken Homes and see if I can now follow all that architecture on Skygarden. Skipped Moon Over Soho which was never a fave. But also have High Vaultage from the library and that Paarfi I never even knew about in transit which should keep me busy. And the never ending George Bellairs to read on the phone/ tablet in restaurants/ while biking.

So yesterday started with rain which very soon turned to heavy snow which STUCK all day even after temps rose and rain returned. Lovely SND texted me did I want her to put my recycle out, and I texted back that I had nothing to go out thanks anyway, which was true as far as recycle went. I had enough nama gomi to justify putting out the green bin but I was pretty sure green bin was frozen shut and anyway, didn't want to put on boots to go out in the ick. Next week will be soon enough for that, and anyway there was also a wind warning for today which is an excellent way of losing one's bins.

Wind blew in warmth: from snow and 35 F yesterday to 20C/ 68F today, which may explain the ouchies all day and all of the night and all of today as well. At least I was spared the migraines that such extreme weather brings the susceptible. I did go out today because restaurants will grab any excuse to open patios if weather allows, and Pour Boy down Manning was no exception. Had chicken and vermicelli while a tableful of dudebro types drank beer and moaned about work. Will say they were pretty bearable for dudebros and got up and moved their chairs to make room for my walker in and out.

Finished Mexican Gothic which left a bad taste in the mouth. Much prefer Gods of Jade and Shadow. Finished also Amongst Our Weapons which is indeed better on a reread. But all I want is more of Peter's voice, so am now rereading Rivers of London. Should beaver on through The Art of Vanishing, by a sansei Canadian author, set in Japan in the 70s. It's for a possible reading club that apparently meets at Pauper's Pub, which is one reason I'm ambivalent about it. The other is that the author will be there, hence many opportunities for secondhand embarrassment. And am not sure I can carry on a conversation with a bunch of strangers these days, since I've got five years of feralness under my belt: and in fact I wasn't much good at it even beforehand. I was the one talking to the cat at parties.

Usual first of the month grow-up ie weigh one kilo more than a week ago and no idea why, unless it's not drinking enough water and drinking too much wine.

George Bellairs is all fine and good and easy to read on the phone, and the library has a lot of him, but either the man was a flat-out misanthrope or else it's that odd English middle-class thing of sneering at what the middle-class defines as The Vulgar, which somehow is never found in the true upper classes, I-wonder-why. We won't even start on physiognomy is destiny and ugly features as inevitable indication of ugly- or vulgar- natures. And what the hell is a fine brow or a good chin anyway? aside from indicating that their owner is not one of The (vulgar) Masses.

More rain tomorrow plus high winds so have cancelled physio. OTOH Fedex did deliver my tax stuff in good time so I can cross off that particular worry.

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.)

Put tax stuff together last night without undue pain, aside from the perennial Where's my property tax bill??? which was not in the envelope with the other stuff, nor in the interstices of the lamp (don't ask) where I file important papers but *was* in the basket with cards and such. Sent it off by Fedex today and hope all is well- guy tells me to take a photo of the label and I was seriously tempted to disavow all knowledge of smartphones. Am still not sure photo will tell me what I need to know to track. Ah well. Mail also brings a reminder to renew my dental plan by end of June, and renewal can't happen without filing taxes. I suppose it's good that it's seemingly geared to income but if it's not, why do I need my tax assessment? Mind, Eeyore thinks PP will be elected in April and at once cancel the dental coverage program for everyone as he's promise-threatened.

Finished Ji Yun and False Value and The Farthest Station and a couple of George Bellairs mysteries. Bellairs thinks everybody except his Chief Inspector is a hen-pecked hard done by put-upon husband. This gets tiresome. Haven't started Mexican Gothic yet and have something else waiting at the library, which might get to tomorrow before the rain sets in on Friday. With the forecast temps we might avoid the freezing rain event but if not, I still have a bag of road salt to dispose of.

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.'

We're having a bout of False Spring with temps soaring into the teens C/ 60s F, aided by sunshine. Rain tomorrow and snow flurries thereafter. If I'm going to be in boots, might as well get over to the shoe repair place on Bathurst and ask if they can resole New Balances. I seem to recall not, but hope they can, because I have no desire to buy another pair from that Trump funding company. And if they can't I need to find a shoe store that stocks wide widths, now that my excellent German shoe store has closed.

Have finished Making Money, Lies Sleeping, and What Abigail Did That Summer. Beaver on through False Value but not lately, since I've been reading Ji Yun in dead tree and Gods of Jade and Shadow on the tablet, having totally forgotten the plot of that. Also have a George Bellairs mystery to counteract the slightly unheimlich aftertaste of Gods. Though why I then got a hardback copy of Mexican Gothic from the library, who knows? Glutton for fantods, maybe. Anyway the Bellairs is set during the Blitz and is a reminder that people have survived much worse than what's happening now.

In the end it turns out to be a good thing that I got Ji Yun in paper, because an e-book would drive me batty, not being able to leaf back to find things.

The Shadow Book of Ji Yun is proving to be great fun. These are trufax! stories of things Ji Yun himself witnessed, or his relatives and friends. Already we've had an experience of Immortals confronting human beings in what the translators point out is very like an alien abduction, and a pair of stranded merchants in Tibet being rescued by what sounds like a group of yeti. There's also the father of Ji Yu's tutor, an inventor who constructed something similar to Pratchett's Gonne. The Chinese had firearms by this time but they were all single shot muskets. This man devised a repeating revolver that could shoot 28 times in a row. He was about to send it off to the military authorities but dreamed that night of an Immortal who chided him for creating such an instrument of death, so he swore never to make another and to keep this one hidden. A pity, I think.

Ji's childhood friend remembered his past life but forgot it bit by bit after the age of five: "...up to the age of four years he had very clear memories of his previous life-- including specific events, friends, and family members. But around the age of five these memories began to slip away-- tree by lover by co-worker-- until, in a few years, he only recalled that his former life's hometown was close to Chang-shan village..."

Ji himself, when a child, was able to see in the dark as if it were daylight "in a windowless and lampless house in the dead of night" but also started losing the ability about the age of seven. From time to time the 'light at night' ability would return but only for a split second.

One night he dreamed that his dead servant, who had been 'criminal and treacherous' in life, came to him and said, "I humbly offer my services to my master who has been conscripted into the army three thousand miles away." Next day one of his students gave him a black puppy, who went with Ji when he was exiled shortly thereafter, became very attached to his master during his time at the borders, and was indefatigible in guarding the baggage on their return. I don't know if Ji Yun suspected he was for the chop when he had that dream of being conscripted, but he was certainly convinced that the dog was his rascally servant come back to make amends.

My my my. Seems there was a shootout across from my laundromat with one guy holed up in one of the empty houses after trying to get into the laundromat itself. Dispatches on FB from the man who held the door against his entry. Massive police presence with dogs and weapons and all neighbourhood schools on lockdown. (The Essex schools I can see but Palmerston? Eight blocks away?) Anyway, they got him handcuffed safely and into custody, so all's well that ends well etc. Wouldn't have gone there today anyway, even if I hadn't gone Monday because rain has kept me in all day, as it did yesterday.

Finished a couple of Bellairs golden age mysteries, one with a note at the beginning warning for period racist language 'which we do not condone' and my word, wasn't there just. Unthinking use of the n word and equivalents, all in the absence of any Black characters. Did a fast reread of Peter's Room, skipping the Gondal parts, because I don't think I've read that one more than twice, if that. Never had much use for Forest's strictures that LARPing inevitably leads to arrested adolescence. Am sure she'd have disapproved of fanfic if she'd known about it: such a waste merely having fun with other people's characters when you could be writing real stories for publication.

Slowly making my way through Seidensticker's Low City, High City, an oddly dry history of Meiji and Taishō Tokyo from 1867 to 1923. Rereading Foxglove Summer which I was so sure was a novella that I had a hard time finding it on my shelf. May also reread Abigail, just because. Have also had my own crise de conscience over a book I want that's a 9.99 ebook on amazon and $35 in paperback from Indigo. Indigo is nearly as bad as amazon morally, but it's also Canadian, so Indigo it is.

I think my acupuncturist hit a nerve she wasn't supposed to, or sent a muscle into spasm, or something. Front of the hip joint is very unhappy. Hope it unspasms before I have to get out to vote tomorrow. Ah well. Reflex has got the better of me, and what will be, will be. Bridges, cross, when I come to them.

Looked up how much water I should be drinking. Two and a half litres! Um, no, not likely. I may get through one litre of water and half of other things, but no way I can add an extra litre without adding more food.

Being in a funk all week, all I finished was System Collapse, a weary slog to have it done. Should slog on through Ruin of Angels as well but I still resent having to read that in paperback.

The Graun has a series of articles on people's petty peeves. Discovered one of mine today: people at checkout who stand gazing dumbly at the register screen, or into space, while the cashier tots up their purchases and the purchases pile up at the end of the belt, and then pay for them, *and only then* start to bag their junk. No, we do not have baggers: you do it yourself, hopefully with the bags you've brought, and if you have no bags you ask for them first so you have something to put your junk into. Any true Torontonian starts bagging the minute the first item is scanned because true Torontonians are always in a hurry. And no point in suggesting we take things more slowly because the cashiers themselves aren't allowed to, and if customers are leisurely, you'll have a huge pile of stuff at the end of the counter and shopping carts blocking the way out. As has happened to me more than once because some people won 't even move their carts out of the way.

I shouldn't really be all chuffed about having walked over to SND's and down the alleyway to check the vent, with just my staff to hold onto, but I did and I am. I've known for a while that I really need to start walking outside without the walker, but it's always easier, not to mention less painful, with. Must also go back to massage because the pain is from lower back and hip flexors rather than knees. And shall do when this cruel war is over.

Otherwise have finished rereading Four Roads Cross and Full Fathom Five, and will start again on Ruin of Angels. I want that one in a trade paperback buf it doesn't come in trade paperback so must beaver through the bitsy-feeling print of the pocketbook size.

Reread also Good Omens, Pratchetty enough, though from the little I know, I think the TV series may have been better.

Snow began as I was returning from physio yesterday and continued through the night. Vaguely thought yesterday evening that maybe I should shovel what had fallen but thought nah, four inches / several centimetres, not worth it. Ha ha. A lot more than that: probably close to a foot. Good Neighbour's snowblower cleared the sidewalk but I had to do my steps and walkway. Elbows and back as ever screamed blue murder but at least I *could* lift the shovel which I couldn't three years ago, during our last major dump. As then, I suspect I'll be housebound for a good week unless the bobcats get out. Which they couldn't today because it's garbage week and the bins are adding to the snow blockage. I am not sanguine about clearance with a weekend and a holiday Monday coming up, and more snow on Saturday. As it is, I had to go back out in the afternoon because drivers clearing their cars dumped it on, what else, the sidewalk.

One drawback of Wentworth being a romance writer as well is that the love interest will never be the murderer. We must have our happi endo. If anyone would frustrate that expectation I might read them, except that I suspect writers who do that are all hard-boiled or noir guys: emphasis on the guys.

Was going to make hamburger stroganoff but by the time I'd sweated the onions, added the ginger and mushrooms, thawed and chopped and added the frozen veg and broccoli, I wasn't up for cooking noodles. So I just had a good semi-keto bowl with a dollop of Greek yoghurt. And very good it was, though low carb always leaves me feeling hungry.

My 200 buck bribe came in the mail and my gas bill came in e-mail, and the equivalent of the former was spent on the latter. Actual bill was for less than that but one needs to have a surplus on account because next bill is an estimation month, not a meter reading one. I used twice as much heat in January '25 as in '24, but it's been twice as cold and looking to stay that way.

Some day I'll get my organics out but the green bin is frozen shut at the moment. Tomorrow is supposed to get above freezing but unless the pickup is in the afternoon it may have to wait till next week.

Books finished?

Night Watch. Popularly considered Pratchett's best, but not really a favourite of mine. Prefer Thud or Feet of Clay, or even Making Money.

A couple of Miss Silvers: The Chinese Shawl and Miss Silver Deals with Death. A Lorac: Death of an Author. A skimmed Golden Age, Charles Kingston's Murder in Piccadilly, which dragged.

Reading now?

Another Martin Edwards compiled selection of short stories, Continental Crimes, and yet another Miss Silver.

Next up?

Who knows. Probably more mindless detective novels.

January staggers to a close. My physio remarked on how quickly the month had gone but then added the caveat, 'The days are long but the weeks seem short.' Mind, I can't remember anything that happened this month. It's just been January since forever.

More snow last night: quite a bit, judging by my front walk. But apparently a bobcat came by at some point and cleared the sidewalks down to the concrete, at least on my street. The south side of Dupont was a slush mixture while the north by Loblaws was as ever the great salt plain. Mounds of the stuff here and there.

Finished Thud and The Fifth Elephant (cherishing the gloomy and pointless trousers of Uncle Vanya); four Miss Silvers and a Simenon (the St Fiacre Affair, where he forgets to tell us who sent the anonymous letters that tip Maigret off); and Alice in Wonderland because I haven't read it in half a century and was distressed to find that somehow I don't even own a copy.

Am currently reading Thirteen Guests, a Jefferson Farjeon country house mystery (brother of Eleanor were you wondering) and another Miss Silver because they're like eating nuts. May eventually go back to Four Roads Cross but I don't understand hostile takeovers in business, much less when gods are involved. Will certainly start Night Watch because there's not much first rate Pratchett left to reread.

Colder than yesterday just because no sun and a freezing north wind, also maybe because couldn't wear longjohns under my trousers because physio. Did not die. Did get more Jack Daniels coolers though checkout clerk informed the guy behind me who commented on same that Loblaws was probably going to stop stocking American liquor onaccounta tariffs. I presume this is what s-i-l meant when she posted on Monday about 'time to hit the LCBO', and not 'time to get drunk and stay that way till 2026'. I should stop drinking anyway but won't until the nasty cold stops hitting my titanium knee.

Or will go to French wine and English gin.

Have finished yet more forgettable Golden Age mysteries and abandoned a couple of library books: Klara and the Sun because Ishiguro still fantods me even if wikipedia says there's a happy ending, and Interior Chinatown because too depressing and anyway if I want Chinese diaspora Wayson Choy is closer to home. Am rereading Thud because one needs Pratchett at times like this, and Four Roads Cross because I've forgotten it almost completely, and now I see why. How many plot threads are there in that book anyway? I remember it as something of a downer and so far it very much is, aside from my inability to figure out how gods and stock markets work. This is because I don't understand stock markets, of course. And then I may have to rereread Full Fathom Five so I can finally get around to Ruin of Angels, which is a paperback that ought to be a hardcover, and why isn't it, I ask me.

Anyway, The Premonitions Bureau is waiting for me at the library, and I look forward to that.

The doorbell rang this morning as I was eating my belated breakfast, but by the time I'd limped downstairs Whoever was on his way to my neighbour's. This afternoon I opened the door to check if it was snowing or had snowed (the latter, and for some reason I want to make that verb 'snown' but can't believe it's correct.) Reflexively checked the mailbox, even though there's no weekend delivery, and found a card. Woman running for the Regressive Conservatives and how lucky I didn't answer the door to her shill because I wouldn't have been in the least polite to him.

Otherwise is cold and will be colder and I've been indoors for two days. Yesterday rained all morning, then the temperature nose-dived, local FB group warned of slipperiness so I went out and salted the sidewalk and walkway. Mine wasn't bad but NND had lines of ice so I salted that. Then listened to Tosca and read two Golden Age mysteries, well enough as far as they went. The more reasonable one was a George Bellairs so I got another of his for today, and they might have been different authors. I guess I didn't notice him doing humourous character sketches in Intruder in the Dark, but ohh are they tiresomely present in The Seven Whistlers. Maybe he grew out of it later?

Snow on snow. Not huge amounts but not negligible either. Thus, boots, alas. And I need to get over past Bathurst to my restaurant that's closing, and to drop off some unusable material to someone who's taking it to recycling at the end of the month.

I noticed last week that my furnace was no longer clunking when it turned off, as is its annoying wont. The only other time it was silent was when the technician came to look at it to see why it clunks. But then I changed the furnace filter, same as the old one but no matter: now it clunks again.

Otherwise, books finished:

One Virgin Too Many, a reread of Falco because I've forgotten what happened in that one.

Lavender House, as noted before.

Silent Nights, a collection of classic Christmas mysteries, at least four of which I'd read previously- The Blue Carbuncle, Wimsey and the stolen pearls, Campion and the deed box, and a John Dickson Carr that actually makes no sense.

Reading now is Mortal Follies

To be read: well, I have Ishiguro's Klara and the Sun and we shall see how I get on with it. Ishiguro and I have a not very happy relationship.

Put the tablet down and your entry disappears completely. I really want a laptop with a proper keyboard. This tap tap tap with the middle finger is getting old.

Stayed in all day because snow. Will probably stay in tomorrow because cold. Wednesday and Thursday I have to go out, and I hope sidewalks will be shovelled by then. Or maybe I'll just walk on the west side of the street which seems to have been plowed and salted all along its length. Supposing I can get the walker across the street, of course.

Did laundry and dishes today but otherwise sat on sofa reading Lavender House, a dispiriting gay mystery set in the hideous days of the early 50s. Happyish ending but still a downer. Turn with relief to the slightly happier libidinous romp of Mortal Follies. I read the second one first and am only slightly disappointed to discover that the Duke of Annadale is in fact a cis woman and not trans as I'd sort of assumed. Ah well. Can't have everything.

My copper bracelet arrives from the Mighty River, after the Mighty River decided that yes after all you did activate that gift card, when all last week it wanted me to do so again and I'd deleted their email with the link. Jeez, Mighty River. Am hoping placebo effect will be effective since even my sceptical s-i-l thinks that actually copper bracelets might work. And if not, it's still a pretty bracelet.

Finished Confounding Oaths, due back tomorrow at the library. One thing I might have done Monday was get the preceding volume from the Spadina branch but didn't because I still have two library books on the go. A mistake, since The Good Fairies of New York proves to be a slog, and I don't feel like slogging. Must have a run at Lavender House, but all I really want to read is The Truth. Finished one of Martin Edward's golden age story collections with a Christmas theme, have another on the go with a water theme, and still, all I want to do is read The Truth. Belatedly recognize that William is fundamentally a nicer person than Moist. But I'm running out of what I think of as first rate Pratchetts to reread. I suppose I must have another go at Raising Steam but... maybe I'll reread Thud instead.

My parents always had a dozen or so old friends over on New Year's Eve and at midnight everyone held hands- crossed over- and sang Auld Lang Syne. Which now strikes me as weird. Ahh, the quaint customs of our Brits-in-exile forebears. How glad I am no longer to live in that sniffy Presbyterian grey city. To celebrate my current burg I went out for dinner to the Korean-Japanese restaurant that was open, whose webpage said they were closed, and not to the one next door which was closed though their webpage said they were open. Not sure if the waiter recognized me (the woman with the walker) or if he greets everyone like that. But still, nice.

New Year's resolutions are a crapshoot but am going to *try* to move more, starting with minimum three minutes a day of intensive exercise. Five minutes of marching in place and sidesteps gets my heart pounding so all to the good. And also getting up off the couch to actually do housework, which I'm always happy to postpone because sitting on the couch doesn't hurt and moving about does. Thus the kitchen floor is clean and the front vestibule is at least not as grimy as it was. And the downstairs smells of Swifter cleaner, a headachy perfume stink, so maybe I'll go over it with a mop and water.

Have finished nothing. Still beavering through Confounding Oaths which ought to be a romp but isn't quite. Just a bit slow.

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