The Knight of the Sorrowful Face

 I mistakenly typed double-ws instead of double-rs, which would have been The Knight of the Sowwowful Face, which reminded me of that "mawwiage" scene from The Princess Bride, so now I'm giggling to myself like a psycho. 

I have historically not responded to comments on this blog in the comments, because I can't figure out if anyone would actually know that I replied. This is vexing, because I often do want to respond to comments, and I sometimes do in the next post, but this feels sort of awkward. Engie and Sarah respond to comments in the comments, and they are both on Blogger as well, so let it be known that I will hereby BE responding to comments in the comments. If you ask me a question, I will do my best to answer it, but I guess you will have to come back to the comments to see the answer - if that's too big a pain in the butt, no worries at all.

But for now, I will answer some recent questions in this post (mwaha-ha, keeping you on your toes). 

To answer Pat B.'s question about the inhaler - yes, I do have a bronchodilating inhaler and a steroid inhaler. It maybe helps a tiny bit. I'm slightly annoyed (only slightly, because I know doctor are overworked and the medical system isn't set up for good continuity of care) that I've had this goddamned cought several times a year for many many years and there seems to be no effort or interest in figuring out what, precisely, is the effing deal. The only thing that quells the cough is a narcotic cough syrup - like this one that my doctor, possibly erroneously, gave me the prodigiously-proportioned bottle of in the winter. If I have this, at least I know I can sleep, but I don't take it in the daytime. I think what's made the most difference this time is that, instead of stopping the cold med (Dayquil) as soon as I could, I kept taking it, in case the decongestant might help. Could a doctor not have suggested this? I guess not. I realize it's not life-threatening or anything, but it has a pretty serious quality-of-life impact.

Enough about the boring cough! 

In reply to Engie - Yes, my book club is pretty cool, but I think any book club is cool. People meeting to talk about books? That is cool. People who talk more about other stuff and drink wine and eat cheese and only talk about the book for five minutes? Still cool (we do talk at length about life in general, while also usually talking in some depth about the book). The book club shrinkage of late has been somewhat alarming - one person left to do full-time environmental activism, which is admirable. One person moved to Switzerland for three years, so she could be back. One person left due to a legitimately brutal series of life events that made attending sporadic and difficult. The pandemic made things difficult - Zoom was bad enough, but for book club the only thing everyone had access to was Skype, which was truly terrible. As soon as we could we started meeting outside in backyards and once in the grassy part of a parking lot - I can't remember exactly why, but it worked well enough. 

I've been a member of this book club for longer than I've had Angus, who is 24, and it was a book club for at least a few years before that, so it is long-lived, which of course means that people have crap going on. It used to be very unusual for anyone to miss a meeting or show up with the book unread (which is always allowed, you just have to be okay with spoilers). At this point I don't worry too much if I feel like I can't comfortably make it to a meeting. We were eight members for years, and that worked well - each person picked one book, we had one short story night where people contributed stories they had either read or written, we had a dinner in June where people would bring suggestions and we'd nail down the books for the coming year, and take July and August off.

To Maya - Am I enjoying Don Quixote? I am. This translation came highly recommended, and it does seem like a really good translation. By which I mean it is clear and easy to read, whereas one of our members read Tobias Smollett's translation years ago and found it very slow going. Some people seem to believe that this is how it should be. One review of Smollett's translation says "Want DQ in modern English? Don't fool yourself -- you'll never get the same feeling -- DQ is even difficult for Spanish speakers to read!" I understand the desire for authenticity, and when I was younger and more emo I might have felt the need to torture myself in order to feel like I'd had a more genuine experience. At this point? It's 1000 pages either way, and I'm not getting any younger.

Am I LOVING it? Mmm, to be perfectly honest I would have to say no. It's considered the first modern novel, and I've always had the feeling I should read it, beyond the few excerpts I have in university. I have laughed out loud, and I have found certain passages moving and melancholy. I'm enjoying the footnotes about this period of Spanish history. It is very repetitive. I was a bit taken aback in the first bit about how much actual damage was happening to people - teeth knocked out, backs broken, staffs broken over heads - but if you put it in the context of slapstick (and they do all tend to be up and fighting again in short order) it's a little less alarming. 

There are a couple of surprisingly proto-feminist episodes, and many unsurprisingly misogynist ones (one 'interpolated novel' where a happily - blissfully, even - married man nevertheless enlists his best friend to pretend to be in love with his wife to test her virtue, though honestly, the woman AND the men come off sort of badly, so maybe it's a wash). So I am enjoying reading, and not having to force myself to pick it up, but it's not quite sweeping me away. There are some classics that I get completely caught up in and can't tear myself away from - Middlemarch, most notably. I don't even love most modern satire, though, so I am not the target audience for this. 

First day of Elisabeth's Cool Bloggers Walking Club. I have been trying not to complain about the unseasonably warm weather, but truthfully it's really getting to me. It saps my strength and will. I don't want to be sweaty every time I leave the house anymore. I want to read in my backyard with a blanket. Never mind the wider environmental implications. Anyway, the walk was quite pleasant despite my whining.

Also, I kind of liked my hair yesterday.