In, All the Devils Are Here, I found out how my mother lost her home. I haven't been able to read past that.
The Smartest Guys in the Room tells how Enron ruined a lot of California businesses for reasons that are still murky but decidedly criminal. Two of my favorite greenware providers went out of business at that time, and I couldn't run my electric kilns. So I say, "painful" to read.
The Prophets of War is about, of course, war contractors. These are always sad to read about, as it chronicles preditory capitalism. A head banger.
But you know? Someone has to do it, right? Who will know what they are doing if no one reads books like these.
Song for the Blue Ocean. The death of the blue fin tuna, well, what's another dead fish? Except their eyes. I remember their eyes.
Today DH took pity on me. He found and brought me an Alexander McCall Smith book, the first in the series written by him called, 44 Scotland Street. I'm going to see if it gives me better dreams!
The scrap socks are going to look good. One leg so far but I'll knit the two legs and then to the heels and gussets.
I ripped the Pi Shawl back to the hub. It really deserved better knitting. I'll get to it in summer.
After that all Manly/Beastly so that it is done by summer time. Three years is long enough on a sweater.
Happy dreams!
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Working my way through the thicket of the American political scene. I am trying to not put any of that up on this blog EVER again. Meh!