It's windy and damp in Stratford, perfectly normal, and I won't get my car back until next week, dammit. I kinda knew that going in, but it's still a bit of a kick in the pants.

My new routine has achieved steady state, I think, with pool class three times a week, church on Sundays, choir practice and the (literal) heavy lifting that goes with it on Mondays, playing diddly tunes with my Mennonite friends every second Tuesday, and monthly meetings of a book club that has agreed to take me in. Yesterday, I spent the afternoon drinking riesling with a bunch of like-minded intellectuals while we discussed a book about the practices of those who say they are "spiritual, but not religious". It was great, and I'm very glad that I wasn't driving.

Energy levels are still good, so the diet is doing what it should. I'm not losing weight with any particular speed, but that's not my primary objective; I'm not all that fat, and a dose of cortisone in the wonky foot every few months is sustainable at present.

The accumulation of cat hair on the quilt has almost reached the limit of toleration, so laundry must happen, and I invited the in-laws to dinner tomorrow, so I must hit Sobey's for groceries. I'm thinking salmon with teeny potatoes and maybe baked squash. Also, more riesling; it was Edmund's favourite white wine, and there's still at least a dozen bottles in the basement.