The truth is I’m not doing very well.  We had both the speech therapist and Tabitha yesterday—note the we—and the speech therapist tired me out almost as much as she did Peter.*  I tottered after hellhounds and hellterror while Tabitha worked Peter over and admired the floods and the torn-up trees and the flattened fences in her neighbourhood** and then after she’d pummeled me it was one of those Wolfgang-knows-the-way journeys home again.  Sigh.  I didn’t make it to Fustian bell practise last night.  I barely made it off the sofa at the mews to go back to the cottage.  I didn’t make it to Forza bell practise tonight either.***

This is, I think, mostly the backlash from Peter’s stroke.  He’s getting better so I can afford to fall apart.†  Even people who don’t have ME may indulge in a spot of this behaviour under similar circumstances.††  Booooooring.†††

So maybe I’ll try that going-to-bed-early thing again.‡

Thank you all of you who have posted about book recs past.  I was looking over the list and thinking oh, wow, I remember that, and I was going to do . . . and . . . and. . . . Maybe this will inspire me.  And, speaking of personal inspiration:

Stephanie

I got Shadows for Christmas and finally had some time to read it this week. IT IS FABULOUS!!! I went to reread my favorite parts and sat there for another hour. Good work McKinley.

Thanks for the awesome story!

::Beams::  This is especially cheering on a day when the energy level is .05% of the live human average and there’s a monsoon out there that won’t go away.  Thank you.

* * *

* It was the knitting.  When you’re as stupid-fingered as I am knitting is hard.^

^ I missed the frelling chunky-yarn sale at one of my favourite on-line yarn stores from dithering and not noticing when the deadline was.  Bah.  I’m quite taken with the idea of knitting myself a large triangular navy-blue shawl/scarf in time for next New Year’s Eve when I may need it to Disguise My Logo—and the rest of the time it can wrap around my neck.  I want something fairly big-gauge—yarn that will play nicely with 6.5 mm to 8 mm needles—so it will knit FAST+—and I also like the bounce you get with big fat yarn.  But this does bring up the question of fibre.  It has to be something I can bear next to my skin, which means either merino or not wool.  But I like wool. I like the heft and the texture and the warm-when-wet.  The two yarns I have my eye on—which both have a bright friendly dark blue and both are from reputable yarn makers—one is 100% merino and the other is half merino and half acrylic.  Given that this scarf is likely to have a hard life do any of you people out there with EXPERIENCE have an opinion on what would survive better?  I’m a natural-fibres snob so my immediate impulse is the 100% merino, but I’ve wondered sometimes if, in my extremely limited experience, merino is all that tough.  Also, this is, you know, reasonably priced merino, so not top end, and I’m thinking about how cheap cotton is nasty and expensive cotton is often worth the added pop, even when it doesn’t call itself pima or anything snooty.  But then frelling acrylic varies in quality too. . . . Maybe I’ll just take a black plastic garbage bag next New Year’s Eve.

But if I’m going to do this I need to get started.++  It’s only eleven and three-quarters months till New Year’s Eve.  Now all I need is another chunky-yarn sale.+++

+ As fast goes, in my case.  But I’m going to be knitting my big square scarf on 4 mm needles for several years yet.

++ YAAAAAY another unfinished project YAAAAAAY.  One cardi, one jumper, two scarves, we’re not even going to mention the hellhound blanket(s)~ and do I have to count all the unseamed leg warmers?  I’ve finished knitting them.

~ Or the two or three items I’ve flatly given up on

+++ . . . and my fate is sealed.

** Although hellhounds and I went out to Warm Upford today, mostly because the monsoon backed off for a few hours^ and I’m getting claustrophobia about town walks, and it’s relatively unwrecked out that way.  Took the hellterror over the hill just outside this town however and we were scrambling over fallen trees and little landslips and sinking up to our knees in new mudholes.^^  The hellterror thought it was a fabulous adventure..^^^

^ Not many.  It’s out there eating the scenery again now.

^^ These jeans were clean this morning.

^^^ And had to keep pogo-sticking off my body to encourage me to share her enthusiasm.  Some of the mud on these jeans is recognisably pawprint shaped.

*** I will soon forget what Grandsire Triples or Stedman is.^

^ . . . Ah.  Hmmm.  This has possibilities.  Bob major?  Fie.  Cambridge minor?  Piffle.  . . . I could grow to like this.

† Learning to get down to the mews in time to take him shopping in the morning is very good for my character.  Or will be as soon as I learn it.

†† And the hellhounds not eating and not eating and going on not eating is not helping.  There’s only so much force-feeding you can perform before you get utterly demoralised.  Yes, I’m going to ring the (homeopathic) vet again.  It’s just that they usually cycle out of these spasms and this one is just going on and on and on.  But I’ve been reluctant to mess with the fact that what he gave them last time seems to have significantly improved the eliminatory aspect.  Can’t I have dogs that both eat and crap solid?  Is this too much to ask?^

^ The hellterror eats and craps solid (mostly).  I know it can be done.

††† Even more boring:  this frelling laptop may be dying.  Raphael is trying to get here tomorrow to perform either resuscitation or last rites, but the monsoon ate his car.

‡ Sleep is probably too much to ask, however, like the eating-and-crapping-solid.  But lying down is restful, right?  And I have MARCO AND THE BLADE OF NIGHT on Astarte.