Reading

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I was pleasantly surprised this week by a couple of emails that let me know that my Durmstrang series had been moved to an Archive of Our Own as part of the Open Door project (Thank you, Heidi!

heidi8 ) Someone had already claimed my author name from FA, so in a fit of no imagination whatsoever, I'm now LoupNoirDurmstrang over there. There's one story that never made it to Schnoogle that should get uploaded to the site. I've got FAQs open to help me figure the steps out.

This whole week has been an exercise in careful movement, because tomorrow is a pelagic birding day. I've been on a boat when my back's been unhappy, and it isn't a pleasant experience. Someday, I'll take another trip out to the Farallons, preferably without back spasms.

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Much to my surprise, I have finished all of the Duolingo German exercises. After all of that, do I speak German? Nein. Ich spreche Deutsche nicht so gut. I do understand a lot more words, and I can read quite a bit. While I hadn't expected to be fluent, I expected, I dunno, more? There's a daily "refresh" that I can work through, but it's clear that there won't be much new information to absorb. It's time to cruise the 'net and find a different course, maybe one that actually addresses grammar. That'd be nice.

I had my much-awaited trip to Germany mostly planned out for this fall. There's a lot that I want to see that's new and a few places I wanted to go back to. I gave up on revisiting Berlin, a city I fell in love with back in 2010. Just seeing all the museums would take about a week, and then there's all the wonderful architecture, the parks, the ostolgie to check out, and, well, Berlin. A three-week trip ought to work out about right for my plans. Unfortunately, the WBH does not want to go with me. I haven't traveled by myself for more than a few days in over forty years. Also, I'm more than a little worried about what's going on here.

Status:
back: mostly normal. Still a bit hesitant to do much labor that requires periods of bending over. I'd pulled so much grass before this annual back stupidity that it'll take me another day or so to get that rounded up and taken to the compost mountain in the meadow.

reading: nothing. Much sadness. However, my beloved library just sent an email that says there's a book awaiting me.

knitting: during summer? Ha!

concerts: the '25-'26 season is coming together. I'd be happier, if the funding for PBS and NPR hadn't been cut. Query sent to my local radio station to see if I ought to finish booking musicians.

mental state: absofuckinglutely worried about what's going on in my country.

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At my age, you'd think I would know better than to keep working after my wonky back said stop. I never learn. The grasses and weeds are driving me crazy. All that bending and pulling was my first mistake, and the next mistake was listening to Past!me say I could jump back into the fray while still rather broken. Back to floor time, heating pad, and more Ibuprofen than I like to take.

About the only accomplishment I can claim is finishing reading "The Searcher" by Tana French. American cop retires to rural Ireland in hopes of a new life and discovers he's still a cop. French can craft sentences that stop the eye and require re-reading to enjoy them at their fullest. Now I'm suffering a book hangover.

Life, it's all about back and birds right now. The grass has to wait until maybe next Monday.