Weather is so boring. I’m sick to death of weather. And today? More weather is on its way. We’re supposed to get another foot of snow. I’m like, uh, what? After only small snowfalls of less than 3″ for the entire winter, we get 5 feet in a few days? Hello?
I’m going to do my favorite thing about this whole situation. I’m going to ignore it.
While the snow quit yesterday, I decided I should have a case of intestinal flu. Great. So on top of wondering if I’ll ever get out of this house, I could barely get out of bed. I drank a lot of lemonade. Thank God for lemonade. Needless to say I didn’t eat much all day.
Since I’ve been lax about following a vegetarian diet, doesn’t it seem odd that whenever I eat meat, I don’t feel well. So hello tofu, hi seitan …… little Mr. and Mrs. Vegetable – you will be consumed. Now I’ve got to go back into the whole finding vegetarian meals that aren’t repetitive thing. And seriously, those that are not composed of the three major food groups, butter, eggs and cheese. Why does everything contain butter, eggs and cheese? I’m sure it’s only because they have flavor. If only there were butter flavored beans and grains.
I didn’t manage to do anything yesterday except finish a George Bellairs mystery mostly set in Cannes. When he wasn’t writing about the Isle of Man, he was writing about France. Inspector and then Chief Superintendent Littlejohn spent a lot of time in France.
I finished Death in the Wasteland which was not only a great puzzle but funny too. Like why would someone wake up at a camping ground, find their uncle dead, bundle his body into a blanket and drive him to Cannes? And then park the car while going into the police department to report the death and while they were in there, the car is stolen ALONG with Uncle George? Pretty hilarious although the solution to the crime was unexpected and the fact that Uncle George got himself killed was not. Nasty man.
Now we’re back in France, in the same Riviera location. Littlejohn and his wife Lettie are on vacation and, once again, he’s called in to assist after the murder of a compatriot. Littlejohn never gets a true vacation!
Bellairs’ description of the Riviera, the coastal drive, the people milling about with smiles on their faces, basking in the heat and the sun, bring the holiday feeling to all of his books. If Littlejohn isn’t sunning himself in the south of France, he’s visiting his dear friend Archdeacon Kinrade on the Isle of Man. Wherever he is, it’s scenic.
I’ve always had a travel bug. I started reading books about foreign places over 55 years ago. If I wanted to learn more about Japan, I would search for titles set in that location – the Sujata Massey books in the Rei Shimura series are ones I recommend.
As a teenager I found the Victoria Holt books to be interesting not only for their plot, but because of their location. The same applies with Phyllis Whitney, Mary Stewart and M.M. Kaye.
I read my way through the entire oeuvre of an author and would then move onto the next. Finding authors is the challenge. Reading them is not.
Another author whom I hold personally responsible for my horrible 8-year experience on Prince Edward Island is Philip R. Craig who wrote the J.W. Jackson mysteries set on Martha’s Vineyard – along with Peter May of A Year in Provence fame. I watched A Year in Provence just a couple of years before we were able to afford to move in a major way and I had read all the Martha’s Vineyard books I could get my hands on. I wanted to live on an island. Why I didn’t choose a WARM island is a mystery yet unsolved. Suffice to say if I run into Philip R. Craig on the other side of this plane – he’s going to have to explain to me why Martha’s Vineyard seemed so warm and welcoming and my island wasn’t either of those things – and further, why nobody I know could afford to live there anyway.
Today I am going to do my Adjutant General chores. I must chivvy ( which lovely word means “tell someone repeatedly to do something” LOL) the kid outside to hold a shovel in his hands and start getting us out of this mess. As you can see from the photo, my Subaru is hidden somewhere in that huge snow drift!