Another winter week is in the books, or at least the working part of it. I don’t mind winter and sometimes quite like it, but it’s also one season that we’re all glad to see the end of. I mean, do you ever hear people complaining that winter is almost over, and now we have to but up with leaves on trees and flowers in bloom. Oh the horror!
Lacking anything else to put before your eyes, here are a few notes about our lives. Pathetic as they — take your pick of our lives or the notes or both — might be
- Cuppa and I have both been noticing that we’re extra tired these days. I tell her that it’s because it’s January — with the short but very long month of February looming. I cross my fingers and hope that I’m right … for once.
- Speaking of sleep, I won’t tell you about my dream the other night (because nobody wants to know about other people’s dreams), but I do want to know why one would need to fiddle a polka on one’s knees. That’s what they told me in my dream when I had the audacity to do it the regular way. When they showed me the instructions; however, they were wrong. The instructions declared that one was to keep one’s feet flat whilst playing that tune. Now that makes more sense — playing a lively dance tune whilst keeping your feet flat. Where do such dreams come from?
- Dreams notwithstanding, I am going to do something futile today and go for a fiddle lesson. I am beyond help, but I keep trying. Seriously, how many deaf men with arthritic fingers take up the fiddle and then don’t know enough to quit? As expensive as lessons are, however, they’re a whole lot cheaper than psychotherapy. EDIT: she just emailed to cancel the lesson; she said something about her losing her ear plugs.
- I commented on another blog how much I begin to appreciate shovelling snow. I am grateful that I still can, and it’s good exercise too. Mind you, I haven’t had to shovel too much too often yet this winter. If and when that time comes, I might be yodelling a different tune.
- After that wicked fall that I mentioned in my previous post, I am also appreciating my morning walks. I’m not exactly hiking the Appalachian Trail, but it’s good to get out and moving although I’m always glad to get back in out of the cold. Maybe when it warms up (around mid July — for those three days), I’ll be persuaded to walk further for longer. However, 20 — 25 minutes will do quite nicely for now.
- Oh, I being an obedient sort of fellow, I did order a pair of those Yaktrax thingiemabobbies for my boots — designed to give the clumsy, old pedestrian more traction in winter. I was not only obeying Ruth but also Cuppa who said, “And while you’re at it, get me a pair too.” Yes, dear.
- Remember how close I came to having to do jury duty a few months ago? Well Cuppa was called to show up for the next jury pool on Monday. Dreading it as much as I was (it’s just not a good time for us), we were both relieved to find that the trial was cancelled. We don’t know the particulars and hope that Cuppa now goes to the bottom of the list and isn’t simply deferred for a month or two.
- I have been reading Richard Dawkins’s, The Greatest Show on Earth, recently. In case you don’t know, he’s the scientist who takes creationists to task at every opportunity. Whatever your take on the mysteries of this planet, there’s some fascinating stuff in there as well as a few extremely tedious sections. I have certainly enjoyed most parts, however.
- Speaking of reading, both Cuppa and I have read some good mysteries lately. We’re fans of British mysteries and have read Susan Hill’s, Simon Serailler series before, so we were hardly surprised to really like her most recent novel, The Shadows in the Street. Neither were we terribly surprised to enjoy Louise Penny’s, The Brutal Telling. She’s A Canadian writer who sets her Gameche stories in the town of Three Pines in Quebec’s Eastern Townships. Lorna recommended another Canadian writer to us, Giles Blunt, who sets his novels in Algonquin Bay (which is really North Bay) in Ontario’s near north. His protagonist is an imperfect but likable John Cardinal. We read the first two books in the series, Forty Words for Sorrow and The Delicate Storm and enjoyed both.
- I have just read an MC Beaton, Hamish Macbeth mystery. It’s a notch or two down from the more intricate works of Peter Robinson, Elizabeth George and the other big guns and is more like Rhys Bowen’s Evan Evans series or maybe Kate Ellis’es, Inspector Peterson. They’re lighter but easy and pleasant reading. Beaton has published 27 Hamish Macbeth titles and 20 or so of another female protagonist whose name I forget and don’t want to bother looking up again. How do they churn them out like that? By the way, there was once a Hamish Macbeth television series, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen any episodes.
Now, on a scale of 1 — 10, how enthralled were you to read my notes? Bear in mind that minus scores will be rejected as spam. 😉