Clearing the Decks

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For a number of years, I participated in the Handmade Valentine Exchange, a secret Santa like event where you sign up, receive a list of 10 names and addresses, make 10 valentines, mail a valentine to each of the people on your list, and wait for your 10 valentines to arrive. The ones I've received in prior years were beautiful, putting my homemade valentines to shame. Well, except one year. I really liked that woodblock card I made one year.

Okay, Maybe Not Just Me

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Dad's tests went well (yay!). After my walk, I waited for a bit, then went back to meet up with his care team and get the details of his after care. Shortly after, I went out to the truck to warm it up and drive it close to the exit door, minimize the distance he needed to walk.

We drove back a different way than Dad drove to the facility, my usual "explore the different ways to my destination" way of driving in new areas. The way I drove had fewer cars, but more stop signs.

Along the way, Dad commented, "I can see why they say that people shouldn't drive home after the procedure, but I would've been fine."

You could hear the record scratch from a mile away.

Like HF, Dad, what? Hello, illusory superiority bias, thy name is Hodsden.

Who is the Dumbass Taking Photos in This Weather?

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Well, took Dad in for his tests this morning. I mean, that's why I'm here. We, unsurprisingly, had the start of a tiff on the drive in. I reminded both of us that 95% of arguments are because someone in the argument is hungry, and, well, he had been fasting for around 30 hours at this point, so maybe, we can hand each other some grace. He calmed, I calmed, we arrived safely and on time to the medical facility.

The temperature was -22˚C, again, still, when we arrived. I commented to Dad that I was going to walk to the nearest Starbucks for breakfast while he was having his tests done. He looked at me like I was crazy. I was going to walk? It is cold. Most people would drive. Why would I walk? I explained that the walk was all of a 9 minute walk, why wouldn't I walk? THE WEATHER, he repeated.

Well, he's not exactly wrong. It is cold.

He checked in, we waited, he was called back, he went.

Mother-Daughter Murder Night

Book Notes

I feel this is one of those books that caught my attention when I was in Libby looking at something else. I enjoyed the book.

It tells of Lana, the grandmother, Beth, the daughter, and Jack, the granddaughter, weaving their history through the immediate couple months of investigation of the death of a person found in the slough close to Beth's house, by a member of a kayaking excursion that Jack was leading. Lana is a high powered real estate executive estranged from her daughter. Beth is a competent nurse in a nursing home. Jack is the teenager with big dreams on the water.

The death is considered a murder, so, of course, we have the bumbling cop, the competent upcoming cop, the suspicious everyone else. We have land trusts and big ranches, many people with their own motives, and three different misdirections. Simon does a great job of introducing plausible suspects, introducing characters early, with motives, and with plenty of suspicious behaviours. Which is great for those misdirections.

The character growth is pretty good, without being forced. A couple situations were the of the kind of moments where someone realizes the other person is trying, and that receiving the offer with grace is going to help. I appreciated those moments written down, if they happened more in real life, we'd all be better off.

I am uncertain why the book felt long. I looked several times at the page number, wondering how much more I had left to read, which is either a sign the book is too long or, more likely, the author's writing style doesn't quite fit with my brain at this moment. Which is fine, the book is an entertaining mystery read with a strong female lead (always a win!).

“What?” Lana asked.

“You know how you told me winners never mumble?” Jack held up the book she was reading about Theodore Roosevelt. “He says you should speak softly and carry a big stick.”

How Dare They?

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Dad and I went out grocery shopping today. The house doesn't have much food in it, as he doesn't eat here much, and it definitely doesn't have food that I normally eat ("You fixing broccolli?" "Should I not buy any for you?" "No, I don't eat that stuff."), so out we went for food. Dad has opinions™ about grocery shopping, what to buy, what he's willing to spend on food. I'm less stingy with my food, if I want to try something new, I will try it. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn't.

After shopping, we hustled out to the truck. It was -22˚C without wind chill, and we chilled quickly. The walk wasn't very far, but wow, being out of the wind in the cold truck cab was such a relief, even with the groceries piled up along the front seat.

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