I just learned this morning that the Japanese have a word for an affliction I developed a few years back. The word is "Tsundoku." One of challenges finishing my letter to Santa is there are a number of books I want to read sometime soon but I have a number of unread books already piled up in various places around the house. Although I relish the physical feeling of a real book in my hands, and can't picture trying to read an ebook in bed (I'd probably drop it on my face and cut myself), I can see that having an ebook reader could really reduce clutter and free up some storage space around home. On the other hand, it could also easily turn into the equivalent of an alcoholic's hiding bottles where no one can see them. After all, nothing would show would but the tablet. The "books" would be out of site, out of mind. I'm brought up short on this approach though every time I remember how much I dislike using my Better Half's iPad. I much prefer the MacBook Air on which these blog postings are composed. I wonder if there's a word for an overloaded ebook reader.
no Tsundoku yet
Photo by J. Harrington
Yesterday's speculation about today's ice-covered local roads was, unfortunately, correct. Slippery conditions were even enhanced by this morning's freezing drizzle. There have been reports that global warming / climate change could make Minnesota more like Missouri. The increase in days of freezing drizzle the past few years seems to support that. The overnight dusting of snow and today's precipitation aren't likely to make for good skating ice, I'm afraid.
a dusting of snow with bird tracks
Photo by J. Harrington
Thanksgiving will be a welcome change later this week. It will be the first time we get to celebrate with the newly weds who have been busy doing post-wedding reorganizing. Then, on Friday, we're planning on catching the Christmas lighting in Taylors Falls. With luck, the daughter person will find the time, energy and ingredients to bake some of my favorite cookies over the weekend. I may even have finished my letter to Santa by then.
Because You Asked about the Line Between Prose and Poetry
Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle That while you watched turned to pieces of snow Riding a gradient invisible From silver aslant to random, white, and slow. There came a moment that you couldn’t tell. And then they clearly flew instead of fell.
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.