Closing credits

Everyone in the house has been ill. We’ve missed church two Sundays. We did go to a special Christmas service in the middle of the week (it seemed, briefly, that we were OK).

My fever broke last night. I’m still coughing. Please excuse the less-than-effusive presentation of this year’s credits list.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

I thank:

Karin;

Jasper and Ziva;

Samuel, Daniel, and Abel;

other relations;

Samuel’s teachers and bus driver;

Daniel’s teachers (the Numberblocks);

our church;

our neighbors;

our librarians;

my reading group;

the Psmiths, for their book reviews (see their latest);

fontsmiths, for their fonts;

poets, for their poems;

Jane Austen, Anthony Trollope, and Harriet Beecher Stowe, for domestic fiction;

Sue Townsend, for her “Adrian Mole” books (see, also, the “secret diary” of fourteen-year-old Margaret Thatcher …

… a work of hilarity, not charity);

the Ecuadorian national soccer team – especially, Moisés Caicedo, Pervis Estupiñán (whose year was actually rather poor), Alan Franco, Hernán Galíndez, Piero Hincapié, Willian Pacho, and Enner Valencia;

the Criterion Channel, especially for the Chinese crime dramas Black Coal, Thin Ice (now unavailable) (set in Harbin) and Only the River Flows (rural Jiangxi);

the Fox Corporation (!) for Tubi – especially, for Crime Stories, Da Vinci’s Inquest, From Hell (now unavailable), Lake Mungo, Looney Tunes, Tom and Jerry (esp. cartoons with Droopy), and, way back in February, the Super Bowl;

just about every streaming service, for Peppa Pig;

Goodwill Industries, for books and stretchpants;

Jarritos, especially for Mineragua;

and

Taco Bell, for soft tacos with potatoes, lettuce, cheese, spicy sauce, and supplemental guacamole.

Reading report

Our first snowfall. Mary is polling the eight siblings and spouses – five of whom work for the schools – as to whether tomorrow’s school hours will be (a) normal, (b) truncated, or (c) canceled. My money is on (a). Not that money has been pooled. The prize is bragging rights.

UPDATE: It’s (b). I won’t have to go out early to put Samuel on the bus.

(I’ll have to drag Samuel and the other children down the snowy block two hours later, since Karin will’ve gone to work and I can’t leave Daniel and Abel at home.)

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

My reading year is half over and I’ve completed just one-third of the intended total. I’ll have to devote the rest of the year to kiddie novels.

Eve Titus’s Basil of Baker Street, a.k.a. The Great Mouse Detective, will be my second “mouse” book of the year.

Later, I may attempt the “Watership Down” series, which is about rabbits.

(It’s time someone wrote a capybara epic. Or does one already exist?)

I also have begun reading the eight-novel “Adrian Mole” series: hugely popular in Britain, neglected in the USA, unknown to me until some months ago. The first book is very proto-Dog-in-Night-Time (there’s even a hapless cur). Except, the narrator isn’t neurodifferent, he’s just an ordinary, awful thirteen-year-old boy. He’s not literally a mole or any sort of vermin. The book also has things in common with Mike Leigh’s movies, and (I suppose) with What Maisie Knew.

I also must read two Agatha Christies/​Mary Westmacotts per month; and I’m chipping away at my second Ed McBain police procedural, Give the Boys a Great Big Hand (a title which, morbidly enough, is meant to be taken literally).

As for the group’s reading, six weeks have been allocated to Uncle Tom’s Cabin and associated texts. I also continue to read Austen and Trollope. In short, everything I’m reading, except the rather acid Mansfield Park, has broad, crowdpleasing, page-turning appeal; all the fiction, anyway.

The joy of getting

This season, I’ve busied myself for many hours fashioning my Christmas wish lists.

One list is for my siblings’ gift exchange. I’ve suggested four books that my designated giver may choose to buy for me. The spending limit for all the books together is $20.

The other list pertains to the gift exchange of Karin’s mother’s family. For this exchange, each giver’s spending limit is $50, and I’ve requested ten books.

(My in-laws on Karin’s father’s side provide no lists; everyone haphazardly buys for everyone.)

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

The task of list making requires great care.

Items may not be placed on more than one list, and some that are all right for one exchange may be inappropriate for the other.

ISBNs must be specified. For some books, it’s important to include the caveat “new” or “used.” Used copies must meet certain conditions (e.g., spinal intactness).

At least, I feel I must spell this out for several of my in-laws. Such is my condescending attitude toward those who aren’t my blood relations. (I trust my own siblings to be familiar with the requirements of book buying.)

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

So far, two of my requests have arrived in the mail: Natsume Sōseki’s The Gate and Crawford Elder’s Real Natures and Familiar Objects (a book of metaphysics, much cheaper now than when it was first published thirteen years ago).

I also am grateful for two unsolicited volumes: Uncle Tom’s Cabin, a copy of which was discarded by the library at IUSB; and the second edition of The Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy, edited by Robert Audi, discarded by the tutoring department.

I lick my chops, anticipating further bounty.