Daily Archives: July 19, 2004


I’m currently craving fresh bread, balsamic vinegar, and that lovely Italian olive oil my mum hand-imported for me from Tuscany. Thank all the gods that HRH left me his keys today so that I can go out for the vinegar and the bread, otherwise there would be a very nasty Autumn waiting for him when he got home…

See what happens? I go home for twelve days, and my food standards have shot way the hey above what I normally eat. Ruined, I tell you — ruined. Although the ten sliced yellow and orange peppers from the farmers’ market (eighty cents each!) currently freezing on baking sheets in my freezer, along with the raspberries, will go a long way towards soothing my gastronomic snobbery in the coming days.


The little owlies request that you hold onto your hats and socks and keep all wingtips inside the blog as it changes its location to the Owldaughter domain. We might be down for all of half an hour at midday today; you’ll likely not even sense motion as Blade skillfully manipulates time and space.

The owlies thank you for your attention. The new location will be posted soon so that you may all update your links and bookmarks accordingly.

Fool’s Fate

I forgot to mention that I finished Fool’s Fate while I was gone. I can see what Ginger means when she says that she’s not quite fine with the end of Fitz’s story. I was impressed at the skill (no pun) with which story elements from three trilogies were wrapped up in general, however. It’s not a completely happy ending; there was loss, things weren’t too easy, and Robin Hobb deliberately didn’t take everything away from any of the protagonists, nor reward them completely. In the end, it just might have been the only way to end it, really.

In Which the Prodigal Returns, to Mixed Reception

We arrived home through six hours of storms and mind-numbing boredom at around seven last night. While I was gone, HRH stained the kitchen cabinets, moved some smaller pieces of furniture around, and raised the bed by about a foot to create box storage beneath it. No major crises occured in my absence, which is always a relief. Maggie punished my eleven-day absence by ignoring me until bedtime. Nixie wouldn’t leave me alone, and even talked to me with chirps and tiny meows. Cricket lay on the dining room table and sulked at the window, through which she wriggled to the Great Outdoors sometime over the week, so now having tasted freedom she is no longer satisfied with the small world known as Home, let alone the presence of her mother figure.

My day is scheduled already: I’ve caught up on e-mails, sent out a couple of queries, and now I’ll sit down with a pile of books and select new readings for the first level of students at CMS, as so much has gone out of print recently. Apparently reading selections from other teachers have been thin to non-existant, so I have a lot of work ahead of me. It was a lovely vacation, with lots of sleep and books and food, but now I’m back in the sweltering humidity and the dust kittens of home. Back to… whatever it is that I do when I’m not writing a book. Goodness. I just may have forgotten what that is.