In Which The Cold Doesn't Stop Us

10 January 2004

Our internet connection is down, so I don't know when this'll go up or my e-mail will go out or anything like that. Silly internet connection.

I finished reading The Summer of the Great-Grandmother and went on to Terry Pratchett's Monstrous Regiment. Which was a good transition, I think: Pratchett has yet to make me sniffle, and he isn't really the sort of writer to wallow in. Although we're approaching a large enough number of Pratchett novels that wallowing might become physically possible, if not pleasant or practical. I liked Monstrous Regiment, though Night Watch...was it? I think it was Night Watch that was my recent favorite, but I might have the titles mixed. Anyway, I'm on to Jesse Byock's Medieval Iceland. I really loved his Viking Age Iceland, and eventually I'm going to buy Feud, too. It's one of those things: you read enough in a field and you start to get a feeling for who you can trust not to be full of it. Byock is one such.

The hard thing about the Letter game is starting it, I think. You have to make a go at a letter the other person will be interested in answering, and unless you have a total literary gourmand going in both the reading and the writing direction, that can take some doing. And I think it's clear that I'm not the only one who thinks this, because both of you who volunteered to play the letter game with me yesterday did not do so by sending me a starting letter...noooo, of course not. But at least I have some games to play when I get the chance. When I make the chance, as I certainly wouldn't have it independently popping up at me. Free time is time you decide not to do other things with.

And this weekend is full of plenty of other things. We're going to try to get to the Minneapolis Institute of Art today or tomorrow, and we're heading up to Aaron's tonight, and we're having Fat Lorenzo's with Stella and Mike and Roo tomorrow night. And then there are the chores, and then there's the writing that isn't for a game. Of course. And the Byock singing its siren song.

It's warmed up this weekend, might even crack 30 F tomorrow, but after that the temperature is supposed to plummet again and stay there. Lovely, lovely winter, when fabulous ice cream goes on sale and soup and cocoa sound even more appealing. People ask me, with heavy sarcasm in their voices, "Is this what you wanted?" And it is. I could do with a bit more snow, but this will do quite nicely. One of the standard greetings if you walk into a small shop from outside is, "Lovely weather we're having," with the same kind of heavy-handed sarcasm. And I always chirp at those people. I can't help it. I just have to chirp.

Mark admitted to me this morning that his throat is still noticeably sore. Curses! And Timprov is making snozzly faces but may yet avoid the full-blown cold. And me, well, I was a little more congested this morning than I would have preferred, but it's gone now, and I'm trying to think positive and stay well hydrated.

Okay, it's time for a few of the Christmas pictures. And that's all I've got for today.

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