Mixed blessings

This morning, I dropped my car off at the garage then walked home.  I was beating myself up for struggling with a 2km walk when I'm the woman who walked 32km this summer from Queenston to Thorold.  That wasn't really fair considering I spent the night alternating between fever and chills, not to mention weird dreams in which my nieces were all nephews and Yoda was communicating on a much deeper level than sports and curiosity about my activities.  Later in the day, I walked back to get the car and it went much better.  Until I paid the bill.  That was higher than expected.

I made a healthy lunch from an acorn squash I bought locally as Autumnal decor when Stashaholic was here in the Fall. I'm allergic to sage so I substituted a clove of garlic in the barley stuffing. It was delicious but nothing says confidence quite like messing with a Jamie Oliver recipe.

I don't send Christmas cards but was delighted to receive one from Elen.  It had a little car putting up and down cute little roads past darling buildings. It was so Elen and her roadmance self.

I made plans to celebrate Winter Solstice with some good friends. Rain or snow, we're going to have a bonfire and celebrate the Longest Night. 

We left it too late to invite my great-aunt and her family for Christmas dinner but we're going to kidnap my aunt for a visit after their Christmas lunch.  She's a sweetheart and I'm always happy to have her company.

Fall food

Just for Elen, the Squash soup recipe.  I put fresh grated parmesan cheese on the bottom of the bowl then ladle piping hot soup on top of it.  For someone who doesn't care for soup, I really like this one. And my go-to cold-killer garlic soup.  I'll share that one another day.

I had a lovely visit with my great-aunt. We talked about the cold, grey, windy day which of course led to some Scottish memories. She told me about being a nurse in a small town just outside of Toronto.  That would have been in the 30's.  I've never heard of  ThistleTown so I looked it up.  Wikipedia to the rescue.  After she came home and got married, my aunt gave up nursing because that's what one did in those days.  Oddly, both of my grandmothers were nurses as well, yet I never felt the pull. Unless one counts nursing animals which is completely different from humans. There's a lot less complaining for one thing.

I decided not to eat anything I haven't made myself. The chocolate chip cookies weren't up to my usual standards. I only had whole wheat flour and forgot to compensate for that. They taste okay but I suppose the good thing is I'm not eating as many.

Chicken parmesan with fresh squeezed lemon and a spinach salad for dinner was far more satisfying.

Without anyone's input shocked stare in Stashaholic's direction, I decided to seam the sleeves of the cherrybomb bolero rather than look for fun buttons. The yarn and stitch pattern are quite lovely and deserve to be the focus.

Book reviews?

Elen Grey and I were discussing book reviews last week. Is it a good idea for one writer to review another? Given how subjective the entire process is, it's a tough question to answer. I tend to like reviews - by people who think like I do. It takes some experimenting to figure that out.

I read a book recently that entertained me to the end. I adored the characters. The drama was real and intense. Yet one character had the ability to shut the story down halfway through the book - and the author never addressed it. I won't review the book because it's a big glaring mistake It didn't bother me until the day after I'd finished the book. I waited for the author to pull that trick out of the hat at the end of the book but the magician used other magic. Excellent, satisfying magic that dazzled and delighted me.

There are some people who would have thrown that book against the wall. The omission would have overshadowed everything else.

I couldn't review the book without mentioning that problem. If I mention it, the reader's enjoyment is diminished as they search for something that might not have bothered them in the first place.

Would it bother you? Does the storytelling supercede the plot?