Events of the week! They included spending the majority of my lunch hours in the DMV again and having good times with friends, including an ill-advised but pretty fun outing to the golf course to see the lunar eclipse on the solstice. Regrettably, none of us gained superpowers from the experience, and my suggestions to sacrifice a goat or a squirrel or something were all shot down (killjoys!), but the evening was still a success.

Incredible new Star Wars posters.
SnowJabba.
Doctor Who fashion.
AlphaDeaths. The most morbid fruits and veggies you will ever see.

Russian teens with a death wish, or the coolest thing ever? I’m going with the latter. Is there any possible way we could do this without getting in serious trouble?
SAM CAN SING, you guys!
Do you like the movie A Little Princess? If not, watch this anyway.
2-D interpretative dance? Well, ok.
6 Most Terrifying Work Commutes. Substitute “most terrifying” for “most awesome,” and you’ll have it about right. I would pay money to go on that bridge.
Remember the hand dance to “We No Speak Americano,” now sadly being used in a McDonald’s commercial? Turns out the hand dancers are world-famous Irish dancers who are starting their own experimental dance show. Hmm.

I’m sure all of you have been both alarmed and broken-hearted at the significant dearth in book reviews on here lately. Rest assured, the situation will be remedied. I reread The Robots of Dawn by Isaac Asimov, which I hadn’t read in 12 years or so, so that was a fun little trip down memory lane. Also a somewhat scandalous one, as I sheepishly realized that young, impressionable Stephanie probably shouldn’t have been reading this at the age of 11. I’m thinking I must have skipped parts? Anyway, I seem to have turned out mostly ok.

Then I polished off A Medicine for Melancholy by Ray Bradbury. What do I even say about Ray Bradbury anymore? Everything is fabulous, the end? I’m running out of obsessively adoring adjectives for his stories. If you haven’t read anything by him lately, give “There Will Come Soft Rains” a whirl right now. Go on, I’ll wait.

Right now I’m finishing up Feet of Clay, which is my first excursion into the writing of Terry Pratchett. I’m really not sure what’s taken me so long. He’s like Douglas Adams, but with more sensicality! (Not a word, but it should be.) I’m quite enjoying his witty turns of phrase so far, and I’m looking forward to exploring Discworld more thoroughly.

I’m also working on The Language of Bees, the ninth book in Laurie King’s series on Sherlock Holmes. It’s the last in the series (thus far), and I feel obligated to read it because the first handful were so very good–even though the last several have been awfully dull, as though the author herself is bored with the characters. I keep holding out hope for that spark of life to return, but I think it’s too late for this Frankenstein’s monster. Just let it die, King, this is getting macabre.

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