2. Littler of the Little Girls last night abandoned SW for Shakespeare, as
3. Schroedinger's Crisis has resulted in a living cat, for which I am grateful, because my drive out to the funeral home last week was enlivened by a spirited account of someone for whom it resulted in a dead one.
4. Continues to be November in April. The temps may actually be more late October, but they *feel* turning-wintery. Lacy trees against grey clouds, pewter suns a bare yellow glow in the west, seas of cold blue sometimes opening up at the horizon. Tulips and daffodils rare: best one gets are snowdrops and crocuses, those late March flowers. I love it, of course, but everyone else is longing for the El Nino summer we're promised.
5. S-i-l is chafing under her one-handed disability. It's surprisingly debilitating for a driver not to be able to drive, or even bicycle for that matter: what winter is for me (walk or transit) except she often has to get to the northern reaches of the city. Can't wash her hair, can't do up buttons or zippers, can't dig in her garden. Can now cut an orange one-handed after I told her how.