Wed Feb 21st, 2018
|05:40 pm - Catch up|
The first Family Day February holiday was ten years ago, and I remember it clearly because I spent it hacking ice up and down Christie St, where the snowplows had left great banks of frozen slush that covered half the narrow sidewalk. This year was a grey and mizzly late March, not as warm as they said it would be (my hands froze in their single wet gloves) but delightful with the unfamiliar freedom of clear streets and a bike. I dressed up and went to the AGO for a late lunch.
'Dress up' is something I almost never do, and it involves wearing my one 'good' pair of pants, currently 20+ years old, which are the same cotton-polyester as everything else I own and have an elastic waist-- the ups and downs of menopausal weight don't permit of fixed waistbands. I'd buy a dozen more pairs if I could find them anywhere; ubiquitous through the 80s and 90s, no one makes them anymore. To this I added a wool-blend three-quarter length top, picked up off the boulevard, and a mystery because the size label says M. I don't fit anyone's Ms ever, let alone a woman's dress. Possibly it *is* a dress, intended for a shorter person than I, but that doesn't explain the shoulder width. Since a fleecy is infra dig, I wore a cherry-coloured cardigan over it, bought in 2006 in what has always seemed a moment of bad decision because the thing has no pockets. But as ever, hold on to the bad decisions and they will find their moment. The cardigan is the same colour as the scarf Incandescens gave me for Christmas, and I wore that to cover the slipping shoulders of the top (as I say, an oddity for a size M) that threatened to reveal my camisole straps. And since it's the AGO, I ditched the backpack for my shoulder strap purse.
So all in all, I looked quite respectable amid the hordes of children and adults and strollers in the AGO lobby, and even respectable at the AGO Bistro, where I had made a reservation and was thus greeted by name in a very Lady Teldra way. I had a Dubonnet and the famous $22 hamburger, which is, well, a hamburger, slightly better than some, with good frites and alas garlic mayonnaise. 'Home made pickles,' says the menu, meaning pickle singular, because this is the AGO Bistro; and the cheapest wine ($13) and only a coffee to follow, because their eclairs have fruit on them instead of chocolate, in this case caramelized apple. The damage was a mere $50, of which I will not complain. It was a very pleasant experience; and going home in the October grey fog and drizzle, I met the twins and their dad and their dog out for a walk, which was also pleasant, so I will remember this holiday weekend when I have forgotten most of the others.
Brust, Sethra Lavode, also The Lord of Castle Black. This leaves me only Athyra to read, which I shall, since the sorceror in it shows up everywhere else including Sethra Lavode. Still a bunch of unanswered questions from that last, including who spilled the beans about the Empress' affairs, and how come her Easterner is still alive to go travelling with Vlad in whatever book it was.
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, a boulevard book, and apparently my second copy of same, because I had the one with the statue on the cover before and now I have another.
Cornll's Who Killed Sherlock Holmes on order from the library, and shall hope it's not quite as harrowing as London Falling.