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Feb. 15th, 2016 12:16 pmWe had a very laid back day yesterday. I got very little done. Most of the books are now in boxes small enough that I can move them, but apart from that…
And some of the larger, odd shaped books still need to be packed. I’m not enthusiastic about that part of things. I spent some time this morning composing an email to Books By Chance. I haven’t sent it yet because I have one more stack of things to bring up from the basement, and there’s at least one book in that stack that I need to ask them whether or not they want.
Scott made waffles for breakfast and discovered that blueberries don’t work as well in waffles as they do in pancakes because, in order for the waffle maker to close, the blueberries have to break. Later on, he made grilled cheese sandwiches, and for dinner, we had a pork roast. I had been hoping to do some form of carry out for dinner, but I suppose that the waits involved in that would have been prohibitive given that we didn’t start thinking about dinner until nearly 6.
Scott wrote me a very sweet paragraph about how I’m his lighthouse. I know he sweated bullets over it because writing is really, really hard for him and because he wanted it to be perfect. I feel like I should do something similar for him; all I did was give him a copy of the Leverage RPG book (which he did really, really want).
I ended up with about eight books from the library. I try not to do that, but several things that I’d put early holds on, right when they were first added to the catalog, came in all at once. They’re mostly graphic novels, so I can probably read them or decide they’re not for me pretty quickly.
It’s been two weeks now since the genetic counseling people supposedly sent me that packet. I think that it’s about time for me to call and inquire. Even with internal delays, something that went out either the 29th or the 1st should have arrived by now.
Cordelia and her best friend want to go to a Rachel Platten (Patten?) concert in Detroit in March. They thought that someone could drive them there, drop them off, and then pick them up again afterward. Which… Um, no. They’re twelve. Even apart from it being in Detroit where they couldn’t get home on their own, the venue in question sells alcohol. I don’t think they’d try to drink, but I’m concerned about two twelve year olds around a bunch of adults who are drinking. It’s also not clear whether or not the venue would allow unaccompanied kids to attend a concert (I wouldn’t if I were running the place). Scott was more willing to consider them going on their own than I was, but he quickly came round to my view. Right now, we’re thinking that he’ll go with them and, possibly (his idea, not mine, just sit near them as opposed to right with them. The concert itself is listed as an all ages event, so I’m not worried that the music/performance won’t be appropriate.
I just opened a book of poetry, Anne Sexton’s complete poems, and I ended up boggling at the opening paragraph of the foreword. The first sentence— indeed most of the first paragraph— focuses entirely on Sexton’s physical appearance. I’m now trying to imagine the collected works of some male poet doing the same thing.
And some of the larger, odd shaped books still need to be packed. I’m not enthusiastic about that part of things. I spent some time this morning composing an email to Books By Chance. I haven’t sent it yet because I have one more stack of things to bring up from the basement, and there’s at least one book in that stack that I need to ask them whether or not they want.
Scott made waffles for breakfast and discovered that blueberries don’t work as well in waffles as they do in pancakes because, in order for the waffle maker to close, the blueberries have to break. Later on, he made grilled cheese sandwiches, and for dinner, we had a pork roast. I had been hoping to do some form of carry out for dinner, but I suppose that the waits involved in that would have been prohibitive given that we didn’t start thinking about dinner until nearly 6.
Scott wrote me a very sweet paragraph about how I’m his lighthouse. I know he sweated bullets over it because writing is really, really hard for him and because he wanted it to be perfect. I feel like I should do something similar for him; all I did was give him a copy of the Leverage RPG book (which he did really, really want).
I ended up with about eight books from the library. I try not to do that, but several things that I’d put early holds on, right when they were first added to the catalog, came in all at once. They’re mostly graphic novels, so I can probably read them or decide they’re not for me pretty quickly.
It’s been two weeks now since the genetic counseling people supposedly sent me that packet. I think that it’s about time for me to call and inquire. Even with internal delays, something that went out either the 29th or the 1st should have arrived by now.
Cordelia and her best friend want to go to a Rachel Platten (Patten?) concert in Detroit in March. They thought that someone could drive them there, drop them off, and then pick them up again afterward. Which… Um, no. They’re twelve. Even apart from it being in Detroit where they couldn’t get home on their own, the venue in question sells alcohol. I don’t think they’d try to drink, but I’m concerned about two twelve year olds around a bunch of adults who are drinking. It’s also not clear whether or not the venue would allow unaccompanied kids to attend a concert (I wouldn’t if I were running the place). Scott was more willing to consider them going on their own than I was, but he quickly came round to my view. Right now, we’re thinking that he’ll go with them and, possibly (his idea, not mine, just sit near them as opposed to right with them. The concert itself is listed as an all ages event, so I’m not worried that the music/performance won’t be appropriate.
I just opened a book of poetry, Anne Sexton’s complete poems, and I ended up boggling at the opening paragraph of the foreword. The first sentence— indeed most of the first paragraph— focuses entirely on Sexton’s physical appearance. I’m now trying to imagine the collected works of some male poet doing the same thing.
