On Aging - Episode 2

 Physical Changes

One of the greatest optical illusions of all time. What do you see here, an old woman or a young woman?

I don't think much about the physical appearance changes until I see an old photo of myself. I have a daughter pushing 60 next birthday and she recently sent me a shot of herself at 15 with someone really beautiful hugging her. And I blinked, who was that woman with her? On closer look, it turned out to be me!! I wasn't much older than my granddaughter when it was taken, which was another shake to the head, as I was young when I had my children. Don't get me wrong, I never thought I was beautiful, attractive, yes, but I never believed anyone when they said I was beautiful. Does it take age, looking back, to see what we never saw in ourselves? What a shame!

HAIR

There are a whole slew of changes as we age. I never colour my hair, I just let it go the way of all old people. I'd like mine to be white but no, I'm a piebald pony. Many colours under the sun on my head. The biggest shock is to see it thin out. I had enough hair for two heads - as my aunts would say - but now I probably have enough for 1/2 a head spread out. My maternal grandfather had a full head of black hair when he died in his eighties. Out of my four brothers, only one has that glorious hair, and he'll be 80 this year. The rest have balded like our father. And new hair on the face for us women - chin, neck. I find a razor periodically takes care of that for me but others shave every day. Or get electrolysis. Other hair on my body vanished for me which others find weird when I share it.

TUMMY AND ASSORTED HANGING BITS

Gee, the changes can be classified as DROOPS. Everything goes south, right? Even for the men (I mentioned 4 brothers, we all over-share with each other). I was a road racer/runner so I was tightened up quite a bit. All that stuff has migrated now (though perky was NEVER my appearance) and it has taken some adjustment, most notably in the underwear purchases. Sports bras are now the norm. Begone to the high on the hips panties. The chin I can do nothing about and I did notice my upper lids hang lower too. 

NAILS

They break more easily. Toenails thicken. I was never a polish-polly either. Au naturel is me. But I've been having a podiatrist take care of my toenails since I was in my late forties. Essential for a runner, even more now for an aging senior with health challenges. I completely recommend to all.

MOBILITY

Most of you know I had a bad fall on the ice about 10 years ago which completely changed my life. Wound up in an ambulance with a concussion and a serious, lingering problem with my spine. The latest X-rays are not the best. And I've had all the usual, physical therapy, etc. Sleeping with a heating pad has helped a bit. But I've had very rough days with the wheelchair and then some days where I can manage without the cane. All very unpredictable, and I try not to get obsessed with it. Take each day as it comes. If I'm very ill - which I was for about 3 months this year - it affects my back as well so I become fairly crippled. And the pain is always there, even though I am on heavy-duty painkillers, which I monitor closely. I don't wish to zombie myself as I have seen some seniors do. No judgment at all, pain is unique in its affliction. 

SURGERY

Several friends have had various tightenings and tuckings. Apparently, if they are to be believed, it becomes an addiction. Do one part, you see the defects in others. One friend is becoming more and more unrecognizable. Apart from the financial weight (it's all terribly expensive) I don't see the benefit unless the self-esteem is low. My jury is still out. Admittedly, I can be horrified by the Mar-A-Lago faces on celebrities and female politicians. I think of them lying under the surgeon's knife and the recovery - my friends tell me it's all worth it though. And, I believe, some have gone horribly wrong. 

SUMMARY

My motto would be that self-acceptance is a wonderful thing if we could all work on that. I have found, at my advanced age, that men can still be attracted to females for their personalities. And speaking for myself, I was never, ever, attracted to men who placed appearance at the top of their laundry lists. Amazing how handsome a man (or woman) can appear when (s)he is interested and interesting. The importance of appearance can be thrown out the window.

On Aging. Episode 1.

The Wallpaper Era

I thought this to be a good series to start here. I remember Ronni, on As Times Goes By, a brilliant blog on aging, was such a help to many of us (many of us still in our sixties and seventies back then) telling us what to expect and not to expect. Sadly, she died about six years ago. Cancer.

This brought to light for me a conversation with the brother who is nearest in age to me. He turns 80 this November and has just survived major surgery to remove a large tumour from his lung. It appears to be benign, but his team is keeping a close eye on it.

On our family Zoom (siblings only) last Sunday, he shared this new, to him, phenomenon, from his hospital bed. He has had more visitors to his hospital room than he has had in all of last year. His sons, their spouses, their children, As they gathered in his hospital room, he noticed that all the conversations took place around him, not with him. If he voiced any kind of opinion, he was thrown a benign look, and the conversation carried on, ignoring whatever he had injected into their talk.

I laughed. I said to him "You are now in the Wallpaper Era of your life." "What?" he said, and I told him. The Wallpaper Era, a time period I may have invented, but I stand to be corrected, is when the youngers around you pretend to listen to you, discount what you are saying, and carry on chatting with each other as if you are the simpleton in the room, indulged, but basically ignored. "That's it exactly!" he said and cracked up too. Note: this brother has lived all over the world, worked with the famous and well-known, designed buildings, became an expert on renovating historic buildings, etc. He's still as sharp as a tack.

I noticed this again last Christmas at a huge family gathering. So many youngers, who are delightful, and I love their conversations and intelligence. But there was this ignoring of the only elder in the gathering, moi. No matter what I said, there's this look of indulgence on their faces, unconscious, I am sure. And I know whatever I say will be tolerated. But what the hell would I know? I'm ancient and live in some yesterday they only read about in history books. Imagine, no smart phones, no TV, maybe a radio, no Spotify? What on earth would I have to offer that's in any way interesting? And I don't blame them. I don't show them my Spotify, the fact that I add new songs all the time that take my fancy, that I keep current on many topics. That I write published articles. 

For I am guilty of the same with my elders when I was young. Found them quaint, found them laughable when they looked in horror at my mini-skirts, found their hobbies amusing but, bless them, time-filling for them. I put in brief appearances when they were gathered, these oldies who distrusted planes and motor-bikes and independence for women.

What goes around comes around. 

And we only learn through our own experiences. 

Unfortunately. 

We are unprepared.

We are, suddenly, wallpaper.

 

Sunday Selections

Joining with many others in this feast of forgotten, overlooked and meaningful photos. Here are some participants: River is one, Andrew is one.  Messymimi is one. Kylie  is another. Drop in to their blogs and have a look.

I've hit a bit of a slump as I await the complete evaluation of those concerning bits on my lungs. I stopped smoking about 38 years ago. And never picked up again. Of the four of my brothers who were/are affected with lung cancer (two different types) two went back to smoking after multiple years abstaining and both quit again. One has now died. One just survived a very serious operation to remove a tumour in the lung which was attached to the spine.

So naturally, the mind goes there. I wish I could know more. My doctor has pleaded with the technicians to evaluate my X-rays. Crickets. Though brilliantly, she calls me every day to ask how I'm doing. My appointment with the internist was deferred to the 22nd.

Anyway, these are a few delights from my indoor garden.

Their colours lift my spirits so much. I find myself talking to them. Encouraging them, praising them. 

 

Lunacy can be a good thing in this troubled world. As a wise old shaman once said to me over a wonderful outdoor fire on a starlit night in the middle of nowhere:

"Always stay where your hands are."

I'm trying.

Gratitude

I titled this post appropriately. Because honestly? Even through the worst of times we can seek out the little things that make life a journey of gratitude if we seek out the slivers like slashes of sunshine seeping into a cloudy day. Always look for them. They are there. 

I remember hosting a dear friend who was older than me, who stayed with me at my lovely home around the bay. She brought her daughter with her. Her only child who was approximately fifty to her seventy-five. What blew me away was the tenderness exhibited by her daughter towards her mother. Daughter treated her like a precious jewel without being nauseatingly solicitous or patronizing in any way. I thought to myself - oh to have such a relationship with my own daughter.

Moving on approximately fifteen years. And here I am facing many health challenges and my daughter has quietly stepped up to the plate and she is exactly the same as Shirley, the daughter of my dear friend, Laura, who passed away a few years ago in her eighties. Daughter is with me through all the tests, the lab work, the X-rays, the consults. Asking questions, reporting symptoms I have forgotten or thought inconsequential. Officially, there is no real prognosis apart from an enlarged heart and some shadowy bits on lungs, which could be congestion, but no one, has as yet,identified, as my internist is unexpectedly away and moved my appointment to May 22nd.

Meanwhile, true friends have stepped up to the plate and check-in and remind me to reach out for help any time of day or night. Support by digital means from afar is never, ever taken for granted, either. 

All in all, it remains up to me to reach out to others (always a challenge for me - eldest of 6 and the one in charge, so asking for help is an alien concept.

After a day fraught with challenges, Daughter drove us up in the wind and sun to Signal Hill and this sky just captivated me. 

Gorgeous, isn't it?

You can also see the whitecaps which were far and wide on the windy sea and I couldn't capture a wandering iceberg on the far left of this photo.

What are your slivers?

Whatcha been up to b'y?

 Well, not much, as a matter of fact.

Some of you may know my overall health was deteriorating slowly but surely. I didn't know what was going on. Now I have the diagnosis. I've had all these symptoms for what seems like months.

From the Mayo Clinic.

Hyponatremia signs and symptoms may include:

• Nausea and vomiting.
• Headache.
• Confusion.
• Loss of energy, drowsiness and fatigue.
• Restlessness and irritability.
• Muscle weakness, spasms or cramps.
• Seizures.
• Coma.

The condition is extremely low sodium for those interested. A very dangerous condition. I've had lab work today and yesterday. And more on Monday. A slight betterment today. I'll be seeing doctor on Tuesday for moving forward (it could be my drugs needing adjustment, it could be the tons of water I drink because of my kidney disease). She will consult with my other specialists.

Needless to mention, she warned me to call an ambulance if another bad bout of any symptom is evident.

None of us ever want the ambulance and emergency rooms. I wrote about my last experience here.

Still, it could be worse. 

I thought all of the above was curtains for me.

I'm truly grateful and amazed that I'm still this side of the daisies.

On a lighter note, this is close to where I live here in St. John's.

The village of Quidi Vidi *  is within the city of St. John's. Breathtaking, beautiful and still an active fishing village.

Photo at sunset by Ray Mackey. A friend and superb photographer.

*Pronounced Kiddy Viddy but some old timers call it Kida Vida, which I love.

Rant and delayed Sunday Selections.

Apologies for the graphic nature but seriously - it's one of the best depictions of his TACOs*.

For any sentient being, the last few days have been a wallop. To see the USA stand by and not incarcerate, commit or remove this lunatic from one of the most prestigious positions of authority and responsibility in the world is, frankly, unbelievable. Every department of government and his cabinet are all compromised in some way, and his Supreme Court gave him a free pass to crime all he wants with no repercussions.

I don't know about you, but when he threatened to annihilate one of the oldest civilizations in the world (7,000 years), I was chilled to the bone. We all knew what he meant, of course. And I thought of the only country that ever used nuclear weapons WAS the USA, bombing Hiroshima and Nagasaki, causing countless deaths and illnesses for generations. So that is the country we all need to fear, and ironically, we're not demanding a dismantling of their nuclear arms when their threat was nearly activated by the lunatic.

So yeah, no matter the end result, the tension of living under the whims of a monster is enormously stressful for all of us. Us elders worry more about our kids and grandkids living under the malignant eye of a man without scruples, morals, ethics, or empathy.

And if you think there's going to be free and fair elections in November, I want a share of what you're smoking. 

The USA has totally lost its way, and I have a sinking feeling it's never coming back. 

Citizens are streaming across the border into Canada for all sorts of jobs, the top being medical and secondly academic. The best of brains. Other countries are benefiting too.

I weep for my friends living there, most too old to emigrate elsewhere. Just know you are not alone. There are more of you than there are of the blithering eejits who put the terrorist and his criminal cabal in office.

No Kings marches were reflected around the world. 8 million of you rising up every state.

Well done, more please. Maybe a general strike?

Some recent photos:

A Spring bouquet from my daughter.

A close-up of one of my orchids. I was gobsmacked by its beauty.

Sometimes a simple dinner of samosas with chutney and Brussels sprouts with grated parmesan does the trick.

*TACO: T**** Always Chickens Out.

Life, Etc.

I spent 2 hours at the hospital getting an infusion. My ancient blood needed fixing. Too little iron, too little energy. Luckily, this clinic in the hospital is like a spa. Comfy recliner or bed, warmed blankets, and engaging staff who all seem to be delighted to work there. Daughter came with me.

Not that I've been idle. Between unplanned bouts of sleep, I am editing. Interestingly, the only writer in the anthology who has, seriously, the worst writing, is the one nagging me to get my arse in gear and finish the damn thing. I finally broke and told her her work doesn't demand editing, but a total re-write of all her work. Needless to mention, she was annoyed. I am always truly amazed at how oblivious some are. I farmed out two of her pieces to two other writers as I was slowly losing my mind at the rewrites - painstaking, and also, I was slowly losing my will to live.

I was disappointed in the Oscars. One Battle After Another was a ho-hum thing, characters way underdrawn, more like caricatures, but if you're into lots of bangs and violence without purpose, go for it. Sinners was another flop in my mind. The first 2/3 engaged me, but the last moved into the vampire realm, which has never appealed. Suspending disbelief is never my forte, and I felt that the writers felt rushed and had to finish the whole thing in a hurry. I did like the soundtrack.

My favourite movie last year was "Train Dreams". I'm old-fashioned, perhaps, in my lifelong love of film. But this film hooked me from beginning to end. In all aspects. The cinematography is breathtaking, the acting and script superb.

A couple of pics for Sunday Selections:

The Indoor Garden.

I'm in love with this writer. Truly.

My local beach, 40 shades of blue, sparkling in winter.

The Madness

You'd have to be mad not to understand that we are on the brink of another world war. There are a bunch of megalomaniacs in the US (and elsewhere) driving these forces of world domination. Trump has been the useful idiot. All of this feeds into his narcissistic sociopathic personality. He has no empathy or compassion; he is the tool, the face. Some report he gets all his information and biases from Fox News (or as I like to call it Faux Nooz). And to add to his disdain, he wore a cheap Trump baseball hat to the reception of the dead military returning to the US a couple of days ago. He promises there will be loads more. But *shrug* that's the cost of war, ya know. But that's not a war, he contradicts himself. 

Iran is not going to take this endless provocation and deaths (now at least 30,000, including countless children). They have better military equipment than the US and can hold out far, far longer. 

Meanwhile, the world pays for this folly, with skyrocketing energy costs affecting everything, food, travel, and survival.

Today's headlines cover men getting cheap hair transplants in Turkey and Americans overloading therapists' offices for sessions dealing with Trump anxiety.

Canada is under threat too, and we are very aware of it. Every mouthful of venom he spurts brings us closer.

Cuba is next on his menu. Followed by possibly Ecuador. Then Canada.

Here's the full list:

• Greenland: Frequently mentioned for acquisition due to its natural resources and strategic location.
• Canada: Cited as a target for absorption as the "51st state" through economic pressure.
• Venezuela: Following proposed invasion, the administration claimed it would "run" the country.
• Mexico: Mentioned in the context of territorial acquisition in the Western Hemisphere.
• Panama: Specifically, control of the Panama Canal Zone.
• Gaza Strip: Referred to as "property" for potential redevelopment.

Also known as the "Donroe Doctrine" after the Monroe Doctrine of Annexation.

We are in dark, unknown territory in these nuclear times. Netanyahu and Trump are busy keeping themselves out of jail on criminal and war crime charges. They don't care who gets in the way as the bodies mount to horrifying levels.

We can't shut our eyes to it. Many in Canada are buying guns for the first time. Daughter is a good shot. I was not bad in my time. But neither of us ever felt the need to own a gun.

Overreacting you might say? Realistic, I'd respond.

Maybe now is the time. In all my born days, I never thought I'd be writing about defending Canada. The most polite nation on the face of this earth. Except when we're threatened. 

Elbows Up!

Sunday Selections

Joining with many others in this feast of forgotten, overlooked and meaningful photos. Here are some participants: River is one, Andrew is one.  Messymimi is one. Kylie  is another. Drop in to their blogs and have a look.

It's hard to capture the amount of snow here but out today, with the sun shining (and melting), this is the side of the parking lot.

Daughter, granddaughter and grandson-in-law and I had a treasured trip here a few years back. It's a remote island off a remote island and the lit up cottage is where we stayed. I bought the prints and daughter framed the three. Reflections are unfortunate but at least you see the house.

The top one is mine from the last place I lived, and the bottom is an oil painting of the colours of Ukraine when an artist friend was raising funds for this fierce, brave country. I won the bid.

Stuffs as Andrew would call this collection in my hall. And this is only the half of it.

Do cushions breed? Asking for a friend.

River posted a picture of her shower curtain so I'm posting a picture of mine. The bathroom is done up in that turquoise blue you see on the whale. We are in whale country here. My bathroom is also an art gallery of treasured wee pictures too. But that will be for another week.

Someday Selections

 

The above is my morning mantra along with "Pull yourself together and get on with it."

This is one of those freaky morning shots where I caught the reflection of my wee indoor garden on my TV screen and it looked like a painting.

This was yesterday outside my building and it got worse.

But the sun just came out and all is well. I just heard from my doctor and I'm scheduled for another iron infusion. But I'm fairly stable otherwise, kidney function up and down, which is the pattern now. I feel fortunate I have lived this long. 

And I look around the building here and wonder if I would switch places with anyone else and the answer is no. 

Grandgirl is showing me the finer points of AI. And I am curious and will remain so about this world and the universe as long as I am able. I stay engaged politically and pull away now and again when it gets painful and horrifying.

I have enormous compassion for my USian friends as I read the insane rantings from their leader and the absolute freedom he has to crime all he wishes without consequence as he loots the treasury. Unaccountable to anyone. I wish I believed in an afterlife and hell for this creature.

I am grateful to live in this wonderful country of ours and even more grateful I live way out on the edge of it on a rock in the wild Atlantic. Like an afterthought. But a lovely one.

Cherish

I haul that word out now and again. A perfect descriptor of moments, of little memories, of slivers of gratitude. A word used a lot in the Ireland I grew up in.

to love, protect, and care for someone or something that is important to you: Although I cherish my children, I do allow them their independence. Her most cherished possession is a 1926 letter from F. Scott Fitzgerald. Freedom of speech is a cherished (= carefully protected) right in this country.to keep hopes, memories, or ideas in your mind because they are important to you and bring you pleasure: I cherish the memories of the time we spent together.

 I had what I call a "shyte day" yesterday. I cancelled a physical therapy session as the chair yoga I had been doing caught up with me and I literally had pain from top to toe. Add this to the ongoing back misery and I was unfit for just about everything. But so grateful I had purchased a huge quantity of prepared salads a few days ago as I was way beyond cooking anything. Sobeys do the most amazing salads and include protein of all kinds, chicken, fish, hardboiled eggs and a huge quantity of various vegetables. A good ol' Canadian chain. Founded when God was an altar boy. An elder's gift for prepped meals.

But today is a cherish the moments kind of day. Pain has taken a mini-vacation and as much as I despise the unpredictability of each day from a mobility perspective, I grab the ones which don't get in the way of any kind of enjoyment.

I actually have a "visitor" coming today. A friend I haven't seen in a while. I avoid such encounters when I am in the misery of pain and discomfort. Who wants to listen and observe others struggling? 

I'm listening to some lovely music (music of my life) which has carried me through challenges and grief and all the ills us humans suffer.

And the moments we cherish and can relive at the touch of a button. I hope you enjoy this duet from The Pearl Fishers.

Sunday Selections

 Joining with many others in this feast of forgotten, overlooked and meaningful photos. Here are some participants: River is one, Andrew is one.  Messymimi is one. Kylie  is another. Drop in to their blogs and have a look.

I'm under the wire here, barely making Sunday.

Just finished this 440 page charmer of a book about a gay artist who inspires a young homeless girl. It's beautifully written and had me crying a few times.

A Valentine's Card from the management of my building with a personal handwritten message inside. Very touching.

Daughter brought me this pen back from her trip to Scotland last year. I feel important when I write with it. Which is like every day.

My new knitting bag. Knitted, of course.

And I've been longing for one of these for a while, working in two colours. Handcrafted and gorgeous. No more balls rolling all over the floor.

A close up of my Hyacinth which brought me such joy.

Enjoy your week my dear readers as we cruise into Spring here and into Autumn for my readers in Oz.

Sunday Selections.

Joining with many others in this feast of forgotten, overlooked and meaningful photos. Here are some participants: River is one, Andrew is one.  Messymimi is one. Kylie  is another. Drop in to their blogs and have a look.

The simple things.

I like these clever cartoons.

A bowl of blackberries for breakfast this morning,

I gifted these two dishcloths I recently knitted yesterday. They last forever and never hold an odour.

I gifted myself this lovely wee hyacinth yesterday.

I gifted myself a sit-by-the-ocean-and-nothing-yourself for a long time yesterday. I call days like these #40shadesofblue.

Sometimes Our Hearts Break A Little.

I glanced out my window the other night. I was struck by this oul fellah struggling along on his cane to the requisite 25 feet from our building. Snow was coming down fast, the plows had been around three times already.

He balanced himself carefully on the stick and lit up. Rules are no smoking in the building or within 25 feet of it. The rule is taken seriously. Even when you're dying of lung cancer.

As he is.

As a recovered nicotine addict (2 packs a day when it was allowed everywhere even on planes and post partum in the maternity wing - yeah, I know, appalling breathing smoke on our newborns, you would be dumbfounded if you saw a photo of back then, I do have one somewhere) I sympathize with him. We attribute my late brother's death to tobacco, he had quit for years and then went back for about 10 years which, I believe, nailed him to the cross of cancer.

All 6 of us siblings were smokers and quit along the way. My own withdrawal (no medical support back then, 38 years ago) was so terrible I knew I could never smoke again as I would never quit again.

This poor fellah tried to quit. I just know he did. All smokers do whether they say so or not. And now, in his late sixties he's dying one of the worst kind of deaths. Fighting for breath, plugging in tanks, yearning for the one thing that would bring him a comfort he defines.

Yeah. I'm so sad for him. 

PS I can't post this on local social media as many would know him.

Belatedly - The Books of 2025

The still-to-be reads from 2024

Intermezzo - Sally Rooney *****

Followed by the Lark - Helen Humphries ***

The Inheritance - Cauvery Madhaven ****

Still Life - Sarah Winman *****

The Postcard - Anne Berest *****

The Pages of the Sea - Anne Hawk  DNF 

The Adversary - Michael Crummy (2nd Reading) *****

Walking with Ghosts - Gabriel Byrne *****

Bewilderment - Richard Powers *****

The Overstory - Richard Powers DNF - tiny italics and my poor eyesight

The Wife Who Risked Everything - Ellie Midwood *

A Little Life - Hanya Yanagihar 0

Fresh Water for Flowers - Valerie Perrin *****

The Hypocrite - Jo Hanya *****

I'll Be Seeing You - Elizabeth Berg *****

Convenience Store Woman  - Sayaka Murata *****

How the Penguin Saved Veronica - Hazel Price ****

Dolly - Anita Bookner *****

The Killing Kind - Jane Casey *

Nun The Less - Patricia Brown Not rated, a friend.

Standing in Gaps - Seamus O'Rourke ****

American Mother - Colum McCann/Diane Foley ****

The Outside Boy - Janine Cummins **

Advice for Murders - Vera Wang *****

Cassandra at the Wedding - Dorothy Parker *****

The Precious Days - Ann Patchett *****

Signal Fires - Dan Shapiro *****

Isola - Allegra Goodman *****

King of Ashes - S.A. Cosby ****

Waiting for Gertrude - Bill Richardson DNF

Homecoming - Kate Morton **

Will and Testament - Vigolis Hjorth ****

The Secrets of Primrose Square - Claudia Carroll **

Heart Be At Peace - Donal Ryan ***

The Post Mistress - Sarah Blake *****

Question 7 - Richard Flanagan *****

A Truce That is not Peace - Miriam Toews *****

The Ruin - Dervla Mc Tiernan ***

The Narrow Road to the Truth North - Richard Flanagan *****

101 Days - Kamala Harris *****

Four Red Sweaters - Lucy Adlington *****

Nobody's Girl - Virginia Giuffre *****

We Did OK, Kid - Anthony Hopkins****

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

So there you have it, the list of books read or dropped (DNF) for 2025. Rated with 5 for superb and thus downward. At my advanced age I don't have time for books not to my interest anymore. Our Annual Jolabokaflod (literally book flood) celebrated at Solstice/Christmas yields treasures for the year ahead. We put great thought into our book selections for those we love. So these gifts are treasured and endure. And it has the added bonus of taking all the angst out of the seasonal gift madness.

I also get quite a few books out of my local library  which also has access to multiple libraries across Canada and will haul in any special request for me along with holding book requests (best sellers) for me. It's always lovely getting to know your local librarian and to be greeted by name when you walk in. They also offer a delivery to my home for the mobility challenged. When I lived in the outports they had a books by mail service until I founded the library in my town back then which still flourishes.

Below is the haul of unread treasures from this past Jolabokaflod, I have read a few already.

Let me know if you have questions on the 2025 books or share your own favourite reads of the past year. I do recommend keeping a book journal. I have done this forever, it seems.