Five things make an entry
1. Walked down to Spadina's Chinatown in search of sunshades. This now qualifies as A Trek, and I'm mildly pleased I managed it without knees screaming at me as much as they might have. Bought a sunshade in white with writing on it-- calligraphic Chinese, I think, and no notion what it says. But the handle turned out to be way too short. The handles of all the sunshades I saw were way too short. I have no idea why this is, but clearly what I want is a proper oiled-paper rain umbrella, which nobody has.
2. The toddlers sleep to music. Alas, the toddler staff play the same CD over and over until it hiccups and stutters and all like that. So last week they switched from the Spanish one (with its earworm 'Oh yay Jose! Oh yay Jose!' chorus) to a Louis Armstrong medley. I am now a) earwormed by Louis Armstrong's Lucky Old Sun and b) fighting an overwhelming desire to read Full Metal Alchemist.
3. In Japan I used to drink Pepsi floats, because Japan has or had little cartons of ice cream, just enough to make a good float. The freezer in my dorm-room's bar fridge wouldn't hold a proper carton of ice cream no way nohow. Discovered some time in the last decade that Diet Pepsi can't be used for floats so there was an end to that. Except it can, as I have only just discovered, when I don't need to be consuming either Pepsi or ice cream at all.
4. Came out one day last week to find a something planted in my lawn next to the lavender. Assumed s-i-l had wished a plant on me, as is her habit, but she tends to wish a lot of plants on me and to do it in my back yard beds. (Come out to find the lemon balm gone and a host of hosta planted instead. Not that this works. The lemon balm comes back and throttles the hostas.) Several days after that, two doors down neighbour passes and informs me that she planted the whatever-it-is, whose name doesn't translate from the Italian. So we shall assume the possible lavender larceny was a misunderstanding and she was merely inspecting my amateurish attempts at planting. I mean, yes I should have separated the plants, but they'd become tail-tied kings and didn't want to be separated without damaging them.
5. Yappari I *am* reading 500 Hundred Years After. It's hot, for Toronto definitions of hot, and I hurt from hefting babies, and Brust's Paarfi is a nice groove to be in when one cannot brane. Brokedown Palace OTOH gives me vague fantods.
2. The toddlers sleep to music. Alas, the toddler staff play the same CD over and over until it hiccups and stutters and all like that. So last week they switched from the Spanish one (with its earworm 'Oh yay Jose! Oh yay Jose!' chorus) to a Louis Armstrong medley. I am now a) earwormed by Louis Armstrong's Lucky Old Sun and b) fighting an overwhelming desire to read Full Metal Alchemist.
3. In Japan I used to drink Pepsi floats, because Japan has or had little cartons of ice cream, just enough to make a good float. The freezer in my dorm-room's bar fridge wouldn't hold a proper carton of ice cream no way nohow. Discovered some time in the last decade that Diet Pepsi can't be used for floats so there was an end to that. Except it can, as I have only just discovered, when I don't need to be consuming either Pepsi or ice cream at all.
4. Came out one day last week to find a something planted in my lawn next to the lavender. Assumed s-i-l had wished a plant on me, as is her habit, but she tends to wish a lot of plants on me and to do it in my back yard beds. (Come out to find the lemon balm gone and a host of hosta planted instead. Not that this works. The lemon balm comes back and throttles the hostas.) Several days after that, two doors down neighbour passes and informs me that she planted the whatever-it-is, whose name doesn't translate from the Italian. So we shall assume the possible lavender larceny was a misunderstanding and she was merely inspecting my amateurish attempts at planting. I mean, yes I should have separated the plants, but they'd become tail-tied kings and didn't want to be separated without damaging them.
5. Yappari I *am* reading 500 Hundred Years After. It's hot, for Toronto definitions of hot, and I hurt from hefting babies, and Brust's Paarfi is a nice groove to be in when one cannot brane. Brokedown Palace OTOH gives me vague fantods.