Except for the pieces I wrote in "Cozy Nook" for "Read and E-Book Week" and the Simple Woman's Daybook, it's been quiet around here. I pretty much spent most of the week working, doing housework during lunch—gah, all the little bits of leaf mold on the stair carpet!, and we have special shoes to wear in the back yard!—and reading/watching a few things on "the idiot's lantern" (Monday's House was a shocker...their you-know-who spoof very timely, however).

I started orders, finished orders, tried to contact one vendor who simply refuses to be contacted, advertised one, prepped another, and received yet another conference support requirement. Wednesday I listened to podcasts all day: a couple of Mugglecasts, a Tech Guy, a This Week in Tech, a Doctor Who podshock, and A Way With Words. Yesterday and Thursday my listening was more sporadic because I needed to concentrate on the advertisements and juggling the different conference supports, but I found a BBC mystery serial from 1963, "Paul Temple," apparently reproduced from the original broadcast in 1951 and listened to the first three parts of Paul Temple and the Jonathan Mystery. Also found the last three parts of Paul Temple and the Margo Mystery from 1961. Paul Temple is a mystery novelist and amateur detective, married to fellow writer Louise, whom he calls "Steve" (her pen name is "Steve Trent"). Steve, thankfully, is more of the Harriet Vane school of women mystery characters, and sometimes takes active part in the investigations, instead of just screaming or having the Doctor Who early companion's role of being there for expository dialog. Found this very enjoyable. Also found a one-hour reading/limited dramatization of Black Beauty; damn, I know what happens to Ginger, and I still was choked up.

It has been "goldfinch city" around the bird feeder this week: one day three male goldfinches in various states of molt, including one that was almost complete, looking like a pinto canary, along with an assortment of females and the rest of the regulars: titmice, brown-headed and white-breasted nuthatches, chickadees, and the female red-bellied woodpecker, plus the male cardinal at least once, "chip-chip-chip"ing his way through his meal.

We visited one of the closing Borders stores last night. The pet books were at 40 percent off, so I bought a book by Stanley Coren about his Cairn terrier, and also picked up the newest Madelyn Alt in paperback (yes, I caved, although I hear the plot isn't much) and also The Mental Floss Guide to World History because I am enjoying the US edition so much (although I found at least one minor but glaring error, which makes me wonder how many more there are).

I'm fifty-fifty on the new yogurts I bought to try last week. I feel I could tolerate the blueberry once in a while. At least it has blueberries in it; Clark Howard had done a report a night or two before about foods containing blueberries that are really blueberry-flavored pears or other simple flavorings. I opened up the "cinnamon roll" this morning and my fears were promptly confirmed: it smells overly sugary despite only being 100 calories, and has the color and consistency of yellowed library paste (or a little thicker Modge-Podge...ugh). I tasted it, then gave some to the dog mixed in with her dog food. She cleaned it up. They could have at least put some brown coloring in it. Yuck.

Yesterday I turned on the computer to all the chatter about the earthquake in Japan. The videos are...frightening and sad, and the death count mounts hourly. Half a world away, it is almost too much to take in. Next to that, bad yogurt and closing Borders are less than nothing. And wishing condolences and prayers seem so little.

Labels: birds, books, chores, events, food, work

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