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Yesterday ended well - one of our idiot doctors (as opposed to the smart ones) needed hand holding until 5:30, but then Kris picked me up and we has ssoooooshi. Nummy sushi. And edamame for an appetizer.
Last night was sort of a haze - chatting on ICQ and Bindlechat and a couple of quick pops onto Hell. I didn't even do my usual fic-reading during chat... or wait, maybe I did, with what Rhi sent me.
Long sleep, happy sleep - waking by nine for real that time, and then a leisurely stroll down to the UDist. Sweet goddess, it was nice today - all sunny, and the Saturday market just full of people and the smells of fresh fruit. I spent all my cash, on cherries and raspberries that got squished a bit in my bag, and blackberry honey. 3 pounds of cherries, a pound of honey and a pint of raspberries for $15? Not terribly bad, and it's all so fresh.
A quick duck into the half-price bookstore on the way home, and of a sudden, I've got books to read in the back yard sun - my return was timed just right, just as the last of the shade disappeared. I got a bit of a burn, but it's the sort that'll fade to a nice tan. I feel healthier when I'm not fishbelly white - probably a remnant of summer days spent in the pool - if I was tan, I'd been getting Exercise.
One of the books I'd gotten was an anthology of fairy tales - retold fairy tales, and I was delighted and astonished to find that one of them was written by a couple of guys I knew in college - Todd and Giles. I didn't know them that well, just that Todd was damn good looking, a couple of years older than I, and somewhat of a ladies' man. I'm slightly jealous - not of the ladies' man bit, but that they're published. Lack of driving ambition on my part, I suppose.
I'm fending off a headache again - maybe a little dehydration from this afternoon, who knows? I'm reading David Drake's Bird of Prey, and there's a... lack of heart, I think, that I'm finding in his books. He's a good writer, but without, say, Eric Flint's collaboration on the Belisarius series, I can't quite get fully into where he's going. This may be a good book to give to someone who appreciates Drake more than me.
It's almost July, and I'd threatened to clean out the freezer this weekend. I need a new set of sheets - I found this morning that the one pair I'd 'inherited' from Mom is starting to wear through. Bleah. More things to think about for tomorrow. After I sleep in, of course.
Last night was sort of a haze - chatting on ICQ and Bindlechat and a couple of quick pops onto Hell. I didn't even do my usual fic-reading during chat... or wait, maybe I did, with what Rhi sent me.
Long sleep, happy sleep - waking by nine for real that time, and then a leisurely stroll down to the UDist. Sweet goddess, it was nice today - all sunny, and the Saturday market just full of people and the smells of fresh fruit. I spent all my cash, on cherries and raspberries that got squished a bit in my bag, and blackberry honey. 3 pounds of cherries, a pound of honey and a pint of raspberries for $15? Not terribly bad, and it's all so fresh.
A quick duck into the half-price bookstore on the way home, and of a sudden, I've got books to read in the back yard sun - my return was timed just right, just as the last of the shade disappeared. I got a bit of a burn, but it's the sort that'll fade to a nice tan. I feel healthier when I'm not fishbelly white - probably a remnant of summer days spent in the pool - if I was tan, I'd been getting Exercise.
One of the books I'd gotten was an anthology of fairy tales - retold fairy tales, and I was delighted and astonished to find that one of them was written by a couple of guys I knew in college - Todd and Giles. I didn't know them that well, just that Todd was damn good looking, a couple of years older than I, and somewhat of a ladies' man. I'm slightly jealous - not of the ladies' man bit, but that they're published. Lack of driving ambition on my part, I suppose.
I'm fending off a headache again - maybe a little dehydration from this afternoon, who knows? I'm reading David Drake's Bird of Prey, and there's a... lack of heart, I think, that I'm finding in his books. He's a good writer, but without, say, Eric Flint's collaboration on the Belisarius series, I can't quite get fully into where he's going. This may be a good book to give to someone who appreciates Drake more than me.
It's almost July, and I'd threatened to clean out the freezer this weekend. I need a new set of sheets - I found this morning that the one pair I'd 'inherited' from Mom is starting to wear through. Bleah. More things to think about for tomorrow. After I sleep in, of course.
