Lovely March day- blue skies, breeze, jacket weather- so I walked to acupuncture and on the way stopped at a new cafe in the 'hood that was once a Korean grocery, then a convenience store, then a dry cleaners- and which now is a place I must avoid because its cinnamon walnut rolls are so utterly utterly. The idea is that I'm trying to lose the plus/minus ten pounds/ 4.5 kilos that bread and butter and crackers and jam and chocolate and alcohol and lack of exercise put on in the last two months, and cinnamon walnut rolls is not the way to do it. Nor is the Japanese cheesecake I ordered on Saturday nor is the fried chicken and fries I had for dinner. Some day, maybe.

But yes, walked there and walked back and whatever my back and knees and hips are like in the morning (hint: unmoving spasm) once I'm in motion things are better than they were. So I must be content.

Archie's view of women apparently reflected Rex Stout's. Stout thought that any man could write better than any woman. Then he read Austen and conceded he was wrong, at least about her. Which is sheesh enough, but then I remind me that in his last book he had a feminist character (de Beauvoir and Friedan on the bookshelves etc) that Archie wants to go question, but Saul says he'll go instead because "I don't look like a male chauvinist and you do." Touche, Mr. Goodwin.