One day until my birthday. I turn 33 tomorrow. As I said yesterday, in some respects I'm glad to be my age - I never, ever want to deal with the arcane and byzantine world of junior high school politics again. But in other respects, getting older makes me sad - there is going to come a day I suppose when I will have to "serious up" and stop buying kids' books and stuffed animals for myself.

But not just yet. I received the next 3 books in the "Series of Unfortunate Events" series last night. I started #3 after
finishing #2. And I read them with my head pillowed on my Clifford the Big Red Dog (unfortunately the site doesn't have a picture of the 24" long stuffed Clifford I own).

And that's the truth (blowing raspberry).

I knit a little on the Spanish Shawl last night. I'm going through one of my "tired periods" - I get these times when I don't have a lot of energy to work on projects. Generally this is when I get a lot of reading done. And I did. Crawled into bed at 8 last night and read - finished "The Reptile Room" (see above) and started "The Wide Window (aside: I don't know if it's amusing or a dangerous sign of sell-out that Lemony Snicket has "his" own website.

Then, I switched over and read some on The Eustace Diamonds. Anthony Trollope is my favorite writer of all times. His books create remarkably detailed and complex worlds. (If you're the kind of person who needs things to get right to the point, they might not be for you - they are all very long and filled with digressions). Here is a page that has a basic overview of his opinions, the mores of his time, etc. (or &c. as they said back then).

I was going to go home early today - there's no swim class - and dig in my garden. But it's 33 degrees with a strong north wind, so I just don't feel up to it.