I’m low on inspiration tonight. It’s been a while since I did a book review, but the book I’m working on is taking time. It’s not bad, but not great either, plus it’s quite long. And I’ve been catching up on my magazine reading during my breaks at work, rather than hitting the fiction (my magazine load will be lighter in the future; I’m dropping Smithsonian. They’ve been edging leftward, in my estimation, and the age of the internet has provided me alternate sources of obscure information).
I haven’t mentioned yet that I’m off the cane. The doctor told me to keep the weight off the knee, and take anti-inflammatories, for two weeks, then see how it went without visible means of support. And so far it’s going fine, but I’m watching for sudden structural fatigue. I probably won’t be taking any exercise walks until spring. And it would be a good idea (my doctor hinted, oh so diplomatically) if I took off a few pounds.
I did some research on canes, by the way, and learned that there’s a difference between a cane and a walking stick. Canes are an English thing, because the traditional English cane is made of malacca, which is a strong tropical cane. We Americans make our supports out of wood, so we call them walking sticks.
Actually we call them canes, but apparently we shouldn’t.
My cane is made of metal. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to call that. A walking pipe?



