potpourri

So, having made a pile of plans for things I would accomplish through the last week, Until Friday, I effectively did nothing. I finished reading some fo the books on my to-read pile, yes.

Book reviews in brief:

INDA by Sherwood Smith is excellent -- good storytelling, good characters, good set-up, and she knows her kids, though her puberty seems to come a nudge late, or at least a little more all-at-once than I recall -- with one major flaw (That I knew going in). It's the first in a series (I don't recall how many total. sartorias?). There are two kinds of series. The first is the kind which is one large novel cut into manageable pieces by production, usually where there's a key turning point or a breathning space, but not necessarily a conclusion (EG, Tolkien). The second is where each book concludes well enough you'd be content if it were the only book you had on a desert island, and you'd never read the rest of the series. This is, alas, one of the first; which, in short, means I "want more!!!!" this instant and have to wait for my gratification.

Thankfully, A) I have lots of other cool books to make the waiting less difficult, and B) if I have to wait so long I need to reread the first to recall all the threads, this will be far from a chore. A pleasure, even.

Karen Lowachee's Burndive was good, and good enough to make me want to read the books before and after (I believe all Lowachee's books to date link up, but it's the other kind of series).

Somehow in the midst of my need-to-reads I slipped in a reread, Terry Pratchett's Only You Can Save Mankind (I'd been intending to loan it to mom. Then I opened it and read the first page. At least it was a very short fast read.) I'd forgotten how much action, humour and deep thought he fits into that tiny compact space.

Two things on my "partly-read, hurry up and finish" pile actually got their bookmarks pulled and mvoed to the trade-ins pile, as I decided life really is too short. One was Gregory Maguire's Wicked, which is reasonably written and has soem good moments, but had a kind of bleakness permeating it that turned me off; I was about three-quarters of the way through when it just got too much,a dn the good things seemed to have gotten swallowed (Haven't quite met Dorothy, I think.) The other is Sean McMullen's Voyage of the Shadowmoon, which never got me to the point of even caring. I'd thought it was because it was a different subgene than I'd been led to believe, but now I've had a chance to adapt my thinking, and nope, still not interested. Less than a quarter of the way through.

Friday, I managed to pick up a bunch more reading, this mostly Spenserian studies, for the essay due in February in English (Le Morte D'Arthur also snuck in, as it seemed like it might be handy to both my general Arthuriana knowledge and the essay topic I've got my eye on most). Faint hopes of *not* leaving it all to the last minute glimmer still.

I also picked up the art supplies I'd meant to get as of the Monday and never got to, and continued the half-hearted decorating of the dining room. Still haven't got the tree up, but there are signs Christmas is near.

Saturday, I got in more archery (topped out in the early 60's, but it's still a general improvement on where I started this year), which included seeing Siegound and Rachelle, whom I haven't seen for about two months. Rachelle showed me pictures of their new dog.

And Colin and I did a pile of Christmas shopping. Then I managed to get a bit of clay-work in; I'm working on a unicorn head and a gryphon; the latter started sooner, but with more setbacks. The former is getting very close to a finished state if I can keep the horn intact. The gryphon hasn't even got wings.

I also finally called my brother as I'd first meant to do Thursday. For those wondering, he's likely to be getting into town sometime this coming Thursday (It's not set in stone, but it's very close), and stay for about two weeks. (YAAAY!)

Since he wasn't coming in this weekend, today mom and I did an impulse shopping run to Grand Forks. This pretty much finished all the shopping I expected to do for others for Christmas (There's mroe to do for Twelfth Night in January, probably, but that can wait until my account is in prettier shape, and I think people understand if a student doesn't give out a lot.) I may need to find something for one friend, but it's a small something.

I also, for the first time in about a decade, I found a stuffed fox that actually looked good and felt good and wasn't prohibitively priced. Its name seems to be Peter*. I also came inches from buying Gaiman's Fragile Things in spite of it being on my Christmas list because the UND Barnes and Noble had it on for 50% off. Mom swore she hadn't bought it for me (And rather obviously gave me a clue as to something she did buy me one store later, which, if correct, is bouncy happiness).

Oh, and I've fit in studying for biology both yesterday and today. The exam is Tuesday morning. Let's see what I can accomplish tomorrow!

* This isn't wholly a joke. It didn't have a name on its tag or any such; things acquire names around me very fast,ranging from the utterly pointless, like bicycles and bows, to the utterly necessary, like cats and characters -- though I've never had a computer with a name, and book *titles* seem to be a different creature from names. I don't do it on purpose. They tend to leap into my mind; this is how a cat whose adoption certificate said Irene ended up named Élise. I knew Irene was wrong, but meant to go through and consciously pick a better name. I was calling her Élise before she got home, though, without ever having meant to. Yes, I do consider this one of my weird traits. at least it's fun.

potpourri

So, having made a pile of plans for things I would accomplish through the last week, Until Friday, I effectively did nothing. I finished reading some fo the books on my to-read pile, yes.

Book reviews in brief:

INDA by Sherwood Smith is excellent -- good storytelling, good characters, good set-up, and she knows her kids, though her puberty seems to come a nudge late, or at least a little more all-at-once than I recall -- with one major flaw (That I knew going in). It's the first in a series (I don't recall how many total. sartorias?). There are two kinds of series. The first is the kind which is one large novel cut into manageable pieces by production, usually where there's a key turning point or a breathning space, but not necessarily a conclusion (EG, Tolkien). The second is where each book concludes well enough you'd be content if it were the only book you had on a desert island, and you'd never read the rest of the series. This is, alas, one of the first; which, in short, means I "want more!!!!" this instant and have to wait for my gratification.

Thankfully, A) I have lots of other cool books to make the waiting less difficult, and B) if I have to wait so long I need to reread the first to recall all the threads, this will be far from a chore. A pleasure, even.

Karen Lowachee's Burndive was good, and good enough to make me want to read the books before and after (I believe all Lowachee's books to date link up, but it's the other kind of series).

Somehow in the midst of my need-to-reads I slipped in a reread, Terry Pratchett's Only You Can Save Mankind (I'd been intending to loan it to mom. Then I opened it and read the first page. At least it was a very short fast read.) I'd forgotten how much action, humour and deep thought he fits into that tiny compact space.

Two things on my "partly-read, hurry up and finish" pile actually got their bookmarks pulled and mvoed to the trade-ins pile, as I decided life really is too short. One was Gregory Maguire's Wicked, which is reasonably written and has soem good moments, but had a kind of bleakness permeating it that turned me off; I was about three-quarters of the way through when it just got too much,a dn the good things seemed to have gotten swallowed (Haven't quite met Dorothy, I think.) The other is Sean McMullen's Voyage of the Shadowmoon, which never got me to the point of even caring. I'd thought it was because it was a different subgene than I'd been led to believe, but now I've had a chance to adapt my thinking, and nope, still not interested. Less than a quarter of the way through.

Friday, I managed to pick up a bunch more reading, this mostly Spenserian studies, for the essay due in February in English (Le Morte D'Arthur also snuck in, as it seemed like it might be handy to both my general Arthuriana knowledge and the essay topic I've got my eye on most). Faint hopes of *not* leaving it all to the last minute glimmer still.

I also picked up the art supplies I'd meant to get as of the Monday and never got to, and continued the half-hearted decorating of the dining room. Still haven't got the tree up, but there are signs Christmas is near.

Saturday, I got in more archery (topped out in the early 60's, but it's still a general improvement on where I started this year), which included seeing Siegound and Rachelle, whom I haven't seen for about two months. Rachelle showed me pictures of their new dog.

And Colin and I did a pile of Christmas shopping. Then I managed to get a bit of clay-work in; I'm working on a unicorn head and a gryphon; the latter started sooner, but with more setbacks. The former is getting very close to a finished state if I can keep the horn intact. The gryphon hasn't even got wings.

I also finally called my brother as I'd first meant to do Thursday. For those wondering, he's likely to be getting into town sometime this coming Thursday (It's not set in stone, but it's very close), and stay for about two weeks. (YAAAY!)

Since he wasn't coming in this weekend, today mom and I did an impulse shopping run to Grand Forks. This pretty much finished all the shopping I expected to do for others for Christmas (There's mroe to do for Twelfth Night in January, probably, but that can wait until my account is in prettier shape, and I think people understand if a student doesn't give out a lot.) I may need to find something for one friend, but it's a small something.

I also, for the first time in about a decade, I found a stuffed fox that actually looked good and felt good and wasn't prohibitively priced. Its name seems to be Peter*. I also came inches from buying Gaiman's Fragile Things in spite of it being on my Christmas list because the UND Barnes and Noble had it on for 50% off. Mom swore she hadn't bought it for me (And rather obviously gave me a clue as to something she did buy me one store later, which, if correct, is bouncy happiness).

Oh, and I've fit in studying for biology both yesterday and today. The exam is Tuesday morning. Let's see what I can accomplish tomorrow!

* This isn't wholly a joke. It didn't have a name on its tag or any such; things acquire names around me very fast,ranging from the utterly pointless, like bicycles and bows, to the utterly necessary, like cats and characters -- though I've never had a computer with a name, and book *titles* seem to be a different creature from names. I don't do it on purpose. They tend to leap into my mind; this is how a cat whose adoption certificate said Irene ended up named Élise. I knew Irene was wrong, but meant to go through and consciously pick a better name. I was calling her Élise before she got home, though, without ever having meant to. Yes, I do consider this one of my weird traits. at least it's fun.