Reading and Not Writing and Walking
Goodreads just sent me my Year in Books, which reminded me that I should be getting ready for my Year-End Book Round Up posts, which reminded me that I haven't done any normal posts lately, which reminded me that I should FREAK THE FUCK OUT and add it to my list of shit that I'm behind on, along with Christmas shopping, Christmas cards, Christmas decorating, Christmas baking, and, I don't know, exercise and having a conversation with my husband.
Just kidding. No freaking out. My cards aren't getting there til January, most of the presents are done, and I just baked some stuff and tried to put it in the freezer and realized there's no fucking room in the freezer, so I guess we'll just eat it and then I'll bake some more. Also, not cooking because the freezer's full - smoothie fruit and lobster mac-and-cheese bites tonight, frozen pizza and an opaque plastic container of something-or-other tomorrow.
Winter boots: My Bogs from a few years ago still look fine, but when I wear them my back hurts like hell, so I mostly wear my Docs, unless the snow is knee-deep and then we have giant boots that you can't walk any distance in but they work for shoveling or taking Lucy around the block. Last year I bought a pair of simple black Joe Fresh boots just to have when I wanted simple slip-ons to go from one place to another in the car, or around the block with Lucy when it wasn't too snowy.
Sweet fucking freshly-poured purgatory, what maladapted sadist designed these things? They're so viciously uncomfortable they feel like they're on the wrong feet even when they're not - I've even tried wearing them ON the wrong feet to see if it would be an improvement. It's not, but it's hardly worse. It feels like the soles are made of concrete. I ended up wearing them to walk home a couple of weeks ago because of that pesky no drunk driving thing, and my hips were on fire by the time I made it a couple of blocks. I don't know what to do with them. I can't give them away because I wouldn't wish this level of excremental misery on my worst enemy, and I don't feel like I should throw them out because they're so patently evil it seems like it would end up in some Jumanji/the Possession scenario where their sinister heartbeat lures some unsuspecting innocent into finding their hiding place and they'll end up wreaking havoc all over again.
I might have to burn them.
Okay. ONE. One magnificently trivial post in December, ha ha ha ha ha ha. See you tomorrow. Or in January.
Just kidding. No freaking out. My cards aren't getting there til January, most of the presents are done, and I just baked some stuff and tried to put it in the freezer and realized there's no fucking room in the freezer, so I guess we'll just eat it and then I'll bake some more. Also, not cooking because the freezer's full - smoothie fruit and lobster mac-and-cheese bites tonight, frozen pizza and an opaque plastic container of something-or-other tomorrow.
Winter boots: My Bogs from a few years ago still look fine, but when I wear them my back hurts like hell, so I mostly wear my Docs, unless the snow is knee-deep and then we have giant boots that you can't walk any distance in but they work for shoveling or taking Lucy around the block. Last year I bought a pair of simple black Joe Fresh boots just to have when I wanted simple slip-ons to go from one place to another in the car, or around the block with Lucy when it wasn't too snowy.
Sweet fucking freshly-poured purgatory, what maladapted sadist designed these things? They're so viciously uncomfortable they feel like they're on the wrong feet even when they're not - I've even tried wearing them ON the wrong feet to see if it would be an improvement. It's not, but it's hardly worse. It feels like the soles are made of concrete. I ended up wearing them to walk home a couple of weeks ago because of that pesky no drunk driving thing, and my hips were on fire by the time I made it a couple of blocks. I don't know what to do with them. I can't give them away because I wouldn't wish this level of excremental misery on my worst enemy, and I don't feel like I should throw them out because they're so patently evil it seems like it would end up in some Jumanji/the Possession scenario where their sinister heartbeat lures some unsuspecting innocent into finding their hiding place and they'll end up wreaking havoc all over again.
I might have to burn them.
Okay. ONE. One magnificently trivial post in December, ha ha ha ha ha ha. See you tomorrow. Or in January.
Comments
Anyway, when I joined in late September I decided I'd just record what I'd read in the past few months and what I read going forward. So my number for 2016, starting in July, is 25, but that includes a bunch of short tween-targeted books I read with June. If I finish the Alice Munro collection I have one story left in today, it will be 26, and slightly more age-appropriate on average.
A few years ago I went into Mark's Work Wearhouse and said I couldn't take it anymore, and I needed the very warmest, preferably non-ugly boots they had. They gave me these Wind River things that are very light, but are OMG WARM. Like, my feet are actually warm in them, and I have zero circulation. They aren't terribly ugly either! Just a little ugly. And they have good grips and I love them and I want everyone in the frozen north to have them too.
Looking forward to your book reviews. My recent fave is All The Light We Cannot See.
Yep, awesome sauce, Lynn is totally right.
You're in my reader now - Thanks for many a good read!
I am looking forward to seeing what happens when I feed my family MY "opaque plastic container of something-or-other" from the freezer.
But maybe you should cancel my advice on the boots. It is nigh impossible to find unfrozen dirt around here.