Dancing Around the Four Sides

And okay, already I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt because today I got an appointment with the oncologist I want, this coming Friday. So FINALLY I can start getting some answers.

Otherwise ... I finished reading James Robert Parish's Fiasco: A History of Hollywood's Iconic Flops, which is a pretty interesting examination of how cost overruns, endless script rewrites, and out-of-control egos (mostly the latter) drove big films such as Ishtar, Waterworld, Battlefield: Earth, and (an oldie but a goodie) Cleopatra off a cliff. Lots of behind the scenes details (drunken stars, under-the-table deals, drugs (usually cocaine) being supplied to cast and crew) made this an entertaining read.

I mean, seriously. It is 64 degrees right now (17.8 degrees Celsius) with a brisk north wind, and tonight it is supposed to drop to 49 (9.4 C).

Finished reading Lindy West's Shrill the other night. I liked it a lot, even though I did agree with one of the Goodreads reviewers that there were (a few) parts of the book that were sort of self-congratulatory (and very name-drop-y). I thought her stories were great, and I identified very strongly with some of her memories. Small child in elementary school, so painfully shy? I see you. Oh yes, I do see you. Two thumbs up, would very much recommend.

Currently reading Nathan Ballingrud's new collection of short stories, Wounds: Six Stories from the Border of Hell, and it's good. I will ALWAYS rec his first book, North American Lake Monsters: Stories, because by god it is brilliant.

What else? Still watching What We Do In the Shadows on FX. Also the Fosse/Verdon miniseries on FX, and I watched the first episode of the Chernobyl miniseries on HBO. Plus the Stanley Cup playoffs.

Went in the backyard yesterday to refill the feeders. I poured some more "critter crunch" (mix of sunflower seeds, corn, and unshelled peanuts) into the squirrel boat, then moved on to the sunflower seed feeders (for the birds). I happened to look up, and there, not four feet away from me on the fence, was a squirrel, watching me. "Well, hello there," I said. "I've already filled up your boat." He (?) was an adorable little guy, clearly curious about what I was doing. :D

Finished Ben Aaronovitch's The Furthest Station and loved it. At something like 118 pages, it was the perfect bite-sized Rivers of London novella -- a tight, lean story of ghosts on the Metropolitan Line, a possible (human) kidnapping, and a small but delightful sidetrack with a young river god. Two thumbs up, strong recommendation -- this was just great.

Now reading Henry Bester's The Outermost House: A Year of Life On The Great Beach of Cape Cod, which is exactly what it sounds like, with the year being part of 1926 and most of 1927. So far it's quite good -- a naturalist's dream. :D

Lots of heavy rain and thunder and lightning last night, but no hail of any size, which was a relief. Today the sky was completely clear and blue.

Finished Anna Burns' novel Milkman, set in a district of Belfast, Northern Ireland during The Troubles. I had initially been wary of trying it because I'd seen a lot of talk about how it was hard to understand and difficult to follow, but I found it to be neither of those things and I ended up really liking it.

Currently reading Kim Stanley Robinson's The Years of Rice and Salt, which is basically an alternate world history in which the plague killed 99% of the European population, thus leaving the doors for exploration and conquest open for everyone else.

1) Dreamed last night that a snake turned into a child. In the dream I had been asked by my Dream BFF (who was someone I used to work with, decades ago) to watch her daughter for the day or the afternoon or whatever. So we met in a parking garage, and she laid a small snake (like the size of a harmless little garter snake) on the concrete floor (this all felt like an ordinary occurrence in the dream), and when I picked it up the snake transformed into a laughing, squirming toddler in my arms. My friend was in a hurry, so in the dream it was BFF, snake, toddler, boom boom boom. I also knew in the dream that I had done this many times before, and I was happy to do it (even though in Real Life I am definitely not a Kids Person). So. That was that.

2) Stayed up way too late last night reading Marina and Sergey Dyachenko's Vita Nostra, and holy shit, kittens, this is one creepy and fascinating tale.

3) Beautiful spring weather today. I should plant the basil, cilantro, and bee balm seeds I've bought, but for some reason it's very hard to get motivated. :-P

Cold, but at least it's (hazily) sunny. Currently 31 degrees (-.6 Celsius), but with the wind chill it feels like it's 21 (-6.1). I stepped out earlier this morning to refill the thistle socks and the dried corn cobs, and by the time I was finished my hands felt like they were burning.

Had an anxiety dream last night in which I was on a college campus and was told I could no longer attend said college because I hadn't been going to any of the classes. Which ... I didn't know about? The classes, that is. I was worrying because apparently I was all alone in this dream world and would now have to find a job, and I couldn't think of any jobs that might hire a 60-year-old woman with chronic health issues. I was still kind of sad and annoyed (sannoyed?) when I woke up.

Anyway, on a much better note, here is a link to a nice long read by Rebecca Solnit, on libraries and childhood -- In Praise of Libraries and the Forests That Surround Them. A very small excerpt:

The child I once was read constantly and hardly spoke, because she was ambivalent about the merits of communication, about the risks of being mocked or punished or exposed. The idea of being understood and encouraged, of recognizing herself in another, of affirmation, had hardly occurred to her and neither had the idea that she had something to give others. So she read, taking in words in huge quantities, a children’s and then an adult’s novel a day for many years, seven books a week or so, gorging on books, fasting on speech, carrying piles of books home from the library.

Yep. That was me. :D

1) Yesterday was nice and sunny, today it's grey and damp (again). Refilled the sunflower seed feeders, the thistle socks, and the corn cob holders. Layla helped by wanting to be petted; the next-door neighbor's Boston Terrier Sadie helped by collapsing dramatically next to the fence and whining to be petted. (She's fine -- the neighbors have a new baby and Sadie does not get as much attention as she thinks she deserves.) (I petted her.)

2) An unexpected pleasure today -- a couple of weeks ago, some movie channel was showing The Prince of Tides, which, let's face it, is not a great movie but it's an okay movie to have on in the background of whatever else you're doing. Anyway, it made me think about reading the Pat Conroy novel it's based on MANY YEARS AGO, and I thought, hey, I wouldn't mind reading that novel again. So instead of borrowing it from the library like any normal person, I poked around online and found a used trade-paperback copy at Powell's for $4.50. Even with $3.99 shipping, it was less expensive than anything Amazon had (at that time). And I've ordered from Powell's before -- their used books have always been in great shape. SO ANYWAY, it came today and I took it out of the package and flipped through the pages, and ... it's a signed copy. On the title page, there's an inscription and signature -- To Melinda For the Love of The lowcountry Pat Conroy. I checked it against real Conroy signatures, and it sure LOOKS real. It's not really worth anything -- it's not a first edition or even a first printing. It's a mass-market trade paperback, a 2009 edition of a book that was first published in 1986. I'm pretty sure it's worth exactly ... $4.50. Still, it's kind of nice. And, as I said, unexpected. :DDD

3) Did a couple of loads of laundry today; took some ribs out of the refrigerator to cook for dinner. I finished reading Elizabeth McCracken's Bowlaway last night and can't say enough good things about it. What an absolutely fantastic read -- two strong thumbs up, enthusiastic recommendation.

Three; post.

Seriously. It was almost 80 degrees here today (26.7 degrees Celsius). I went in the backyard and refilled all the bird feeders, including the thistle socks. I also switched out the small-seed feeder (which holds mostly millet, as opposed to sunflower seeds) from a BIG feeder to a smaller one, because really, most of the birds are way more interested in the black-oil sunflower seeds than they are in the millet. I also put out more dried corn on the cob for the squirrels. While I was doing all this, Layla helped by barking enthusiastically at a hawk circling overhead, and then at a group of four or five huge crows who flew by, cawing loudly and apparently curious to see what we were doing outside.

Finished Finn Murphy's The Long Haul: A Trucker's Tales of Life on the Road, and, although I liked the beginning, I did not like the book by the end. He may have been saying the right things about race and class in America, but that didn't make him any less of a jerk in my eyes, and I simply could not believe that at least one of his road stories had really happened. After that I read Robert Olen Butler's Tabloid Dreams: Stories, which I liked A LOT. Anyway, I am currently reading Covered Wagon Women: Diaries and Letters from the Western Trails, 1840-1849, edited by Kenneth L. Holmes, and omg it is FASCINATING. I mean, I worry about stuff like "Oh, should I go to the grocery store today or not," and the women writing these letters and diaries are like, "BORE MY EIGHTH CHILD BY THE RIVER AND THEN WENT BY FLATBOAT DOWN THE COLUMBIA AFTER MY HUSBAND DIED OF FEVER," and it is just holy shit these women were PILLARS OF STRENGTH. This volume is the first in a series published by the University of Nebraska, and I am looking forward to more.

Bought Bowlaway, Elizabeth McCracken's new novel, and Ben Aaronovitch's Lies Sleeping, both because I felt the need of some Retail Therapy after President Goat-boy's most recent idiotic shenanigans. National emergency my ass. What a dumpster fire. It will take generations to recover from the damage this shitbag and his enablers have done.

I don't even know sometimes, chiclets.

Warm and cloudy. The dwarf mulberry and the bush cherry both have visible baby green leaf buds. O_o

Dreamed last night that I was back in my college dorm, only everyone was grown up and I couldn't remember anyone's name. Also the dormitory was clearly an office building. Hmmm.

More than halfway through Dan Simmons' The Terror now. This book has its flaws, but omg it is a great read.

Really. It's clear and crisp and just warm enough to set the citrus trees back outside for the day and give them a good feeding and watering.

I did finish reading Michael Ondaatje's Warlight, and I liked it a lot. I will say that I loved the first half of the book, after Nathaniel's parents had left him in the care of the two dodgy characters, The Moth and The Darter. After all, how could I not love a story which begins, "In 1945 our parents went away and left us in the care of two men who may have been criminals."? I could've read a whole book devoted to this part of the story, just as I could've read a whole book, separate from Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch, about Theo and Boris in Las Vegas.

ANYWAY. I liked the second half of Warlight, with its search for the secret life of Nathaniel and Rachel's mother, and then I was surprised at the end of the book, because ... I don't know, I guess I just didn't expect it to go there, even though Ondaatje had foreshadowed it enough that previously I had actually thought "Hm, I hope Nathaniel is [REDACTED BECAUSE SPOILER]." Would still recommend, two thumbs up.

Wishing it was spring already.