Sorry I didn't write you a note yesterday. I was (1) up at 6 a.m. making a four-layer cake for a birthday party; (2) loading a flock of chickens into the back of a truck; and (3) fetching a 100-pound Great Pyrenees back from the vet, where she'd been parked overnight because she can't walk. And, yes, on Friday I did have to load that staggering 100-pound dog into the car by myself. Turns out she has an ear infection that is making her dizzy and nauseated; but since she is 14 years old, even an ear infection can be a delicate situation. So for the next several days I am going to have to syringe-feed an elderly dog with a stomach ache who weighs almost as much as I do. If last night's dinner is any predictor, this will involve both of us being liberally smeared with liquefied canned dog food. The bouncy and enthusiastic poodle is the only family member who finds this situation charming.
Between the above activities and my cleaning out the now-empty chicken house/getting ready for snow by splitting as much firewood as possible activities, I didn't get too much reading done yesterday. So I have no interesting quotations for you. You may or may not be relieved.