2. Picked up a cookbook off the boulevard, One Pot Low-cal Wonders. Which is fine up to where nine recipes out of ten call for tinned tomatoes or tomato paste, two ingredients that kill the taste of everything else.
3. I need meat and veg reading to make the lighter fantasy and mystery feel substantial. Granted, Gladstone is pretty chewy all on his lonesome, and Retold Chinese Tales doesn't provide any sense of corrective balance. But Japanese works just as well as history or biography and rather better than both, especially when it's Ima Ichiko's impenetrable Phantom Moon manga. Very very chewy and still not quite making sense.
4. The local coffee shop is closed next week, which is sad, because the other coffee shop is now a Mexican restaurant, and there's nowhere else to get my 'familiar faces' barista fix.
5. Birks have been resoled for half the cost of a new pair, but resoled they are. I should simply toss my second pair, supposedly identical to the first. But they're not. They strain my legs and back, and make me feel wobbly-unsteady (even though *they've* been resoled recently too.) Had to take muscle relaxants last night for the spasms after wearing them two days, and today had recourse to the velcro ones I wear with orthotics.
6. Stopped wearing gauze bandage on rapidly uninfecting toe. Must start again, because the urge to pick at toenails- what got me into this mess to start with- is irresistible.