A Robin Hobb Rereading Series, Entry 456: Fool’s Quest, Chapter 34

Read the previous entry in the series here.
Read the next entry in the series
here.


After a letter from Malta and Reyn that politely but tersely addresses what appear to be ongoing concerns between Kelsingra and the Six Duchies, “Dragons” begins with Fitz quizzing Lant and Perseverance about the passage of the Fool and Spark. They have no further answers for him, so they eat, and Fitz notes the improvements to the campsite the pair have made in his absence.

Shining brightly amid the darkness…
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Perseverance sits awake with Fitz for the first watch of the night and asks about the way the Fool and Spark are dressed, meeting Fitz’s answers sullenly. Later, after watches are traded, Fitz finds himself wakeful and joins Lant at watch. Lant asks his own questions of Fitz and is answered, although he is less sullen than he is whining in his receipt of those answers.

Further conversation is interrupted by the return of the Fool and Spark through the Skill-pillar. Spark is badly affected, and the Fool sports Silvered skin. Fitz directs Lant and Perseverance to attend to Spark and directs his attentions to the Fool. Managing to secure a glove over the Fool’s Skilled hand, Fitz guides his friend to where Perseverance and Lant attend Spark, and there asks for a report of events. The Fool lays out his reasoning and proceedings, and Fitz notes the uncertainty of Spark’s recovery.

At the Fool’s suggestion, Fitz looks for the camping equipment they had had together in that place after the Fool had died. With assistance from Lant, he finds it, and camp is reassembled. With that done, the Fool resumes his narrative, if with some prompting. Fitz learns that the Fool had gone to Kelsingra, navigating from echoes of draconic memories he had imbibed, finding the Skill well and touching what of the Silver he could. Doing so provoked the wrath of the Elderlings and the dragons, and the Fool and Spark fled to a ruined chamber, escaping from it only narrowly and returning to where they now sit.

The early portion of the present chapter puts Perseverance in a position not unlike that Fitz occupies with the Fool years before. Indeed, some of the boy’s phrasing in the current moment echoes that of the earlier man quite closely, and I am reminded again both of the fraughtness of gender performativity in the Realm of the Elderlings and of the need to update the Fedwren Project more than I have done. There are several scholars’ works already noted in it that speak to the issue; I have to wonder, I have to hope, that there is more current work that takes in the more recent entries in the Realm of the Elderlings corpus. It certainly presents itself plainly enough, not through what may or may not be a metaphorical treatment as some other things might or might not have been–but, as with several things, I am not the person to carry out a treatment of the matter, having neither the situated nor the invented ethos to address it.

Not entirely related: I appreciate the references to Rapskal and Heeby made in the Fool’s narrative. They are not named, and sensibly; despite who the Fool does know under the guise of Lady Amber, he would not have any reason to know, or even to know of, Rapskal and the dragon he serves. But it is entirely in keeping with their characters that they would jealously guard the Silver and move to violence before any other concern, and it is suggestive that some uses of the Skill-stone still seem to elude the Elderlings of Kelsingra at this point in the overall narrative. I find myself wondering if and how that will develop if and as Hobb presses ahead with her series (or if there is a Brian to Hobb’s Frank waiting somewhere, although a Christopher to her JRR might well be preferable).

I am somewhat struck with Fitz’s handling of matters in the present chapter. He seems to have a fairly decent handle on himself, which is…uncommon for him, even with his years and experience. So much said, it’s a good thing to see; how long it will last, though, I don’t recall. I guess I need to do more rereading…

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Briefly on an Idle Half-Hour or So

As happens from time to time, I found myself in a coffee shop of a morning recently. My wife had a couple of things she needed to do in the next town up from where we live, as did I, but I got done before she did and, rather than hover over where she was, I took myself off for another cup of coffee and a little pastry. (The coffee was alright, and the pastry was nice enough. It was a good little snack, though I really don’t need more snacks.)

A familiar enough scene…
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I hadn’t necessarily expected to have the available time, so I didn’t set out with my usual accoutrements for going to a coffee shop. I didn’t have my journal with me to write in, I didn’t have a book with me to read, and I didn’t have any work with me to do. Consequently, I found myself sitting alone at the coffee shop, enjoying a pastry for less long than I should have done and sipping slowly at a cup of coffee, and I had the leisure to simply sit and watch and listen.

It was clear to me as I sat there that the coffee shop has a dedicated population of regular customers. A great many of the people popping in and through while I sat seemed to know each other and to be on good terms. Several stood around, their own cups of coffee in hand, talking together seemingly amiably; I was not trying to listen closely, but tone carries. A few others seemed to be engaged in some meeting–again, I wasn’t trying to listen, but things carry–and they seemed to get on well together. Too, there were a few working on some project or another, laptops open and earbuds in, doing as I have often done.

In all, it was a pleasant experience. I don’t often get to sit and watch; when I go to a coffee shop, I’m usually one of the people working or one of the people in a meeting, and I don’t go out often enough to be a regular anywhere anymore. Aside from <one bookstore [link Books to Share post]>, one or two places in the town where I grew up, and a since-closed tavern in Brooklyn, I haven’t really been a regular anywhere anywhen; I tend to go home and stay there unless there’s some cause to go out, and “because I want to” rarely suffices for that. I wonder if I should let it be so more often.

I did not stay much longer than it took me to sip away my cup of cooling coffee. My wife’s errands came to their end, and there’s only so long I can keep my seat on most coffee shop chairs. But it was nice to get to simply sit and sip, and I should probably try to do it again sometime.

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Might There Be a Midyear Truce in This Ongoing Campaign?

Year after year
The rallying cry sounds out
Even when the battle is as far away as it can be
As it is now
And there should be quiet

A belligerent?
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The salvos are still firing off
The bombs are still falling
And there are screams to drown out the sounds of either
But no shouting will silence this ongoing war
However many or mightier the other fights may be
Because
Of course
This one little bit of performance actually matters

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A Robin Hobb Rereading Series, Entry 455: Fool’s Quest, Chapter 33

Read the previous entry in the series here.
Read the next entry in the series
here.


After an entry from Bee’s dream journal, “Departure” begins with a gloss of Fitz’s ongoing preparations to leave Buckkeep in pursuit of the Servants at Clerres. How he equips himself and plans to proceed are described, as is how he is sent off by his family and the assembled court of Buckkeep. Fitz notes some unease and sets it aside as the formal farewell proceeds and Fitz sets out with a party suitable to his station towards the Skill-pillar that was Bee’s last known location. Arriving there, Fitz gives a few final instructions, steels himself, and proceeds through the pillar.

…sometimes you don’t.
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Fitz is surprised to find that Lant goes with him, and he is more surprised that Perseverance accompanies them. To their questions, he makes harsh answer, and then he directs them to set up camp as best they can, given their situation. Matters proceed as well as can be expected, and the three take stock of their supplies, making clear that neither Lant nor Perseverance had thought through their actions. Fitz manages to calm himself and assess matters more rationally, although he is still displeased, and he sends through the Skill to Nettle and Dutiful, updating them.

The night passes uneventfully for the three, and the next day sees Fitz go out to hunt, setting Lant and Perseverance to tasks while he purposes to do so. As the pair address them, Fitz makes his way to the old stone-garden, visiting once again Verity-as-Dragon, tending to his lost king and confessing himself thereto. The man within responds to his nephew, easing him into sleep.

Returning to Lant and Per, Fitz makes a kill of a rabbit and learns that the Fool and Spark have been by, using the Skill-stones to travel. Fitz is incredulous as he receives report of their actions.

I‘m minded as I work through this that one of my scholarly somedays–and there are many, as I’m sure those of you whose continued reading I appreciate will have noted–is correction and updating of the work in this webspace. More than one of the prior pieces of writing I’ve referenced in putting together this commentary has needed some adjustment, and I cannot think that those I’ve noticed this time around are the only ones that are in such need. While it’s good to have something to do, it’s an annoyance to have made easily avoidable mistakes in my work; I really should be doing better than that. For such things, I can but apologize, work to proofread what needs it, and try to do better as I move forward.

It might also well be written that the present chapter seems to make some use of deus ex machina, an old device about which I’ve made some comment. There’s setup for such things as might appear so, though; Verity-as-Dragon is hardly new to the Realm of the Elderlings, after all, and the capriciousness of travel through the Skill-stones has been amply and repeatedly attested, in the present volume and others in the Realm of the Elderlings corpus. Verity’s response to Fitz might be a bit of a stretch, although it has been noted that the extent of Skill-knowledge that was available exceeds what is available; the recovery of what Regal had sent off to the Pale Woman was incomplete, and much of what was recovered was described either as damaged or at the leading end of substantial language change, such that it was unintelligible to modern-to-the-narrative-milieu readers. Verity, in isolation and seemingly interpenetrated with what might well be called a physical manifestation of Skill and which is used expressly to store and make available for consultation memories, has had time in which to plumb the mysteries of his magic. So perhaps it’s not quite so much deus ex machina, after all, but some variation on Chekhov…

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Some Additional Reflective Comments after the Tenth Year

Earlier in the week, I made mention of having passed ten years of work writing in this webspace. In that commentary, I give a gloss of my site’s statistics, marking the changes to readership and productivity over time, and I’m gratified that, since a nadir in 2017-2018, my performance overall has been increasing. I could push more posts out into the world, perhaps; I’ve done so before, although I like to think that my writing has improved–and doing better work usually takes more time, meaning fewer individual pieces get out into the world. It’s certainly the case that I could be better about monetizing this webspace (although doing so has some possible problems; payment-facilitators don’t always like the kinds of things that I say, though I suppose I might be able to restrict some of the stuff that has naughtier words in it behind some kind of subscription–I’m not sure how all that would work, though). However such things may be, though, there’s some pleasure in seeing that I can keep something like this going, even if there is room to improve–but there’s always such room, for all things and by all people. I do not claim such greatness as to be exempt from all of that.

Yes, it’s recursive. And it’s mine, severally.

I have not generally gone on as much in such posts as the tenth-anniversary post as I might about what looking back prompts me to feel. Yes, I try to express gratitude that I am in such a situation as allows me to indulge my writerly passions, and I note being glad to see that there are eyes on my work; I am both grateful and glad of such things. But I am not only so, or not only about them.

One thing that having been at work on a project across time does it allow for a view of changes over that time. I have something like a stable record of my writing and the life that enfolds it, one that is open to public view. If it is the case that I am aware of a (potential) reading public and enact some curation of myself in response thereto, it is also the case that no such act can be untouched by whoever performs it. Greater minds than mine have noted that each of us is, at any given time, enacting one or more roles for one or more audiences, but there is something enacting the role, some actor playing the part, and even with the same lines and stage direction, there will be differences among performers, something of the actor inhabiting the part regardless of the actor or the part. So much is to say that even my curated-for-some-imagined-public self-presentation reveals much of who and what I have been and still am, and the changes to me over that time are clear even without recourse to the journals I still keep.

About some such things, I will not write here; I have plans for their discussion, a few of which bear in on the series of scholarly somedays I’ve cited across the years. About some of them, or at least one of them, though, I will comment now: there’s definitely been a change to my writing style across time. I can–and maybe will, another scholarly someday–pull out individual blog posts I’ve left in this webspace and distill out their formal features, things like word- and paragraph-counts, paragraph- and sentence-lengths, and reading level on any of several scales. I can look more concretely, albeit with more than a shred of narcissism, at common topics and treatments. Both might well be worth doing, but both exceed what such a blog post as this can really support; for now, it will suffice to say, I think, that I feel myself to be less stilted now than I was then. That’s not to say that I write more simply now than then; I’d have to pull data to be sure of that, but it does not feel so, in any event. If anything, I’m more complicated now; I feel more that I write who I am than who I think I have to be at this point. Given what I have given up, that much makes sense; while I have a public for which to perform here, I do not have editors (yet), and that’s a whole different kind of thing.

I’m not at all displeased by this. I think it’s better writing. I hope it’s better writing; with more than ten more years of practice behind it at this point, it ought to be–just as I ought to be, and am, pleased that I have readers yet who stick with me. I hope what I give you is what you want and need.

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A Rumination on My Journaling

I don’t believe I’ve made a secret of keeping a journal. It’s hardly a rare thing for someone to do, of course, and less rare for someone who spends as much time writing as I clearly have and do. Just within the past five years (which is actually a meaningful thing to say at this point, with more than ten years of work in this webspace, as well as years of work in such other places as this and this), I’ve made explicit mention of doing so on multiple occasions: here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here. I’ve written about why I journal, and I’ve drawn things from out of my journals for others to see. I think I’ve managed to bear out the practice in my own experience, and while I acknowledge that what works for me does not necessarily work for others, that it does work for me means that it might well work for others. I am not quite so different from other people, after all.

There are worse ways to spend time.
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One thing I’m not sure I’ve recently noted–and I’ll concede some flexibility with “recent,” here; I know there are some who would not consider 2020 recent to 2025–is that journaling, for me, provides something of an emotional anchor-point. That is to say, I feel better about things and about myself when I keep up with my journal-writing. I do not always keep up with it; I started writing in bound journals, rather than on hole-punched notepads, in 2004, and there are definitely lacunae among the volumes of writing I’ve accumulated in the decades since. I have found over that time that I get…nervous when I have not kept up with my writing; I do not feel as certain. Perhaps it is some analog version of the perception that what is not on social media does not really exist, some script form of “pics or it didn’t happen.” (I know that’s an older quip. I’m not a young man.) Having the written record, even acknowledging that any writing I do reflects my inherent and overt biases, helps me remind myself that I was and am, that things happen and that I and mine were present to experience them, however small our parts in things might well be.

So much said, I do have some difficulty with journaling. Reflecting on the day’s events is good, generally, although it is the case for me that it can also lead to the kind of overthinking that tends towards self-recrimination and the development of a depressive cycle. That is, I run the risk of turning in on myself every time I sit with a pen in hand to go over what happened during the day. I mitigate it by writing more often; when I do so, I have some feeling of accomplishment, which helps stave off sadness, and I tend to write in shorter bursts, so there’s less time to get into a bad headspace. I also mitigate it by writing, generally, according to something of a formula. I discuss first the weather and noting any major events that have come to my attention–and I’ll admit that “major” is as flexible for me as “recent,” here. Then I write about what I learn from my wife about her day, then the same for my daughter. Only after those do I report the events of my own day–and I try not to go into detail about my workday, both because I keep a record of work activities at work and because I do try to keep my “regular” work in its own place. Doing so helps me to keep a sense of myself as myself and not as some economic production unit.

We are, all of us, more than just the work we do. I hope that, for me and mine, the more is also better.

I mean, yeah, you can have some soulless machine crank out some written slop for you–but you could, instead, get something real for yourself. Make the better choice; have me write for you!

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Reflective Comments about the Tenth Year

Today marks ten years since I began posting to this webspace. As I write this next entry in my series of annual reports about the status of this site, I have published 1,705 posts to this webspace (this will be 1,706), as well as revising individual pages, attracting 205,512 views from 61,633 visitors. As such, in the past year, I have published 178 posts, garnering 58,157 views from 16,609 visitors (per “Reflective Comments about the Ninth Year”). It is the best year I have had in this webspace, overall, and the most productive since 2016-2017, when I was developing a lot of instructional material and using this space for student information.

The following graphs present changes over time, noting posts, then views, then visitors.

It remains a pleasure to have this outlet and the time and energy to maintain it, even to the extent that I do so. I look forward to continuing my efforts here, as well as to offering writing to order. If you’d like to hire some done, please fill out the form below!

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A Robin Hobb Rereading Series, Entry 454: Fool’s Quest, Chapter 32

Read the previous entry in the series here.
Read the next entry in the series
here.

Do note that the present chapter discusses torture in some detail.


After commentary regarding proper installation of Skill-pillars, “Travelers” starts with Fitz announcing his decision to leave Withywoods to the household staff, who accept the news easily. Matters are arranged to facilitate that departure with relative ease, and Fitz returns to Buckkeep, learning along the way that the Fool has been found where Fitz had suggested seeking him.

Maybe something like this?
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After arriving back at Buckkeep, Fitz confers with the Fool about his doings, learning that the Fool had gotten lost in the warren of secret passages that permeates Buckkeep. He had gotten lost while seeking more dragon’s blood, thinking to use it to restore more of his body and memories of a Skill-river and the effect of Silver (though not by that name) on dragons. Fitz rebukes his friend, and the two confer about how they will proceed to Clerres, the Fool laying out details he had not previously revealed to Fitz about his return thence and the social structure in place there, the machinations of those in charge of it. Some of the Fool’s sufferings are rehearsed, as well, and Fitz’s resolve against the Servants hardens.

Afterward, Fitz calls on Chade, finding him alone and lucid. Chade notes the effects of his age, not all of which are feigned, and he commends Fitz. He also notes Lant’s desire to accompany Fitz and urges him to allow it; Fitz holds his tongue on the matter. Chade also notes his distrust of Rosemary and her unraveling of his information network, but he still urges Fitz to press on with his own work. To that end, he presents Fitz a pair of exceptionally detailed maps on which he had worked for years.

Fitz returns to his chambers and secrets his gifts therein before responding to a Skill-summons from Nettle and Dutiful. Having made himself presentable, Fitz presents himself, finding the Farseers aside from Chade awaiting him. Arrangements are made for how the prince Fitz is will proceed, and a cover-story is introduced–along with comments about the residents of Kelsingra. The Fool is also discussed, and Fitz calls upon him to announce his intention to proceed to Clerres alone, to the latter’s exceptional upset.

The next days pass with Fitz making final preparations for departure. Kettricken gifts him yet another map, noting quietly her knowledge of how Dutiful came to be. A farewell feast is given, and private farewells are said–some of them brusque, indeed.

The present chapter is a long one, some thirty pages in the printing I’m reading. I am reminded once again that I need to find a cohesive print-run of the Realm of the Elderlings novels to get page-counts for the chapters; I remain convinced that there is something to be found in the relative lengths. O, to have the resources to undertake such a project!

The present chapter also offers more than a few things I like to see in a continuing work. One of them is a reference back to earlier parts of the body of work–in this case, Fitz’s first receipt of prophecy from the Fool. (It is also of interest that it’s just after six years since I treated that part of the corpus; how time flies!) There is a delight in seeing efforts made to maintain continuity across a body of work, to see attention to detail and long reading rewarded in text. I look for such delights, which the present chapter provides at several points.

I also look for the kind of commentary that can be found in the present chapter as the Fool describes the generational machinations of the Servants–“They are tremendously wealthy. They have been corrupt for generations, and they use the prophecies to make themselves ever wealthier. They know what to buy to sell later at a much higher price. They manipulate the future, not to make the world a better place but only to add to their wealth” (627). It may well be an affective reading, but I do find myself in mind of various oligarchies, established and aspiring, I see at work in the world. I am probably not the only one, either, and I think an examination of such commentaries in Hobb may be an addition to my list of scholarly somedays.

My medievalist self takes some interest in the description of Clerres as akin to Mont St. Michel–although I’ve discussed that much previously. Still, that I managed not to miss all of the details in my earlier readings is a comfort, and the partial correspondence remains in place. I wonder, though, if there is another scholarly someday in tracing Arthurian parallels, here; does Fitz castrate some giant, if only obliquely? I’ll have to consider it further as I reread more; it’s been a while.

So much said, the present chapter does a lot of explicatory work. As it is near the end of the novel, I have to read that work as being done to set up the third volume of the trilogy, Assassin’s Fate; I’ll proceed to that text soon, although not as soon as I might like–as I reread, again, I feel again the hunger for the reading that I recall feeling in earlier readings, spanning nearly ten years with Fool’s Quest and longer with other parts of the Realm of the Elderlings novels, that has led me to linger in place for hours, moving nothing other than my eyes except to turn the pages, and to stay awake far longer than the next day’s working demands suggest, taking in the text at once.

It is good to have such feelings.

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A Rumination on Some Recent Reading

I don’t believe I’ve made anything resembling a secret of the reading that I have done and am doing. In addition to the stuff I read for my day-job–gotta love the US tax code!–I do a fair bit of reading for my side-line work of writing lesson plans. (Teachers, if you need some support with this, let me know; my rates are reasonable, and I’ve been in the classroom enough to have an idea of how things might actually work.) Less common of late has been reading for other reasons, whether for study (outside of work, for which I do have some continuing education requirements that I’ve been addressing reasonably well) or for pleasure. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve been trying to correct that last, squeezing in some reading time as I can.

What a place to be!
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It’s admittedly not easy. I don’t have the time to devote to outside reading that I used to; when I lived in New York City, I had an hour-long commute to work, yes, but most of that was on a train that would allow me to do at least some reading. When I was in academe as a full-time thing, it was expected that I would do a lot of reading; it was something for which I could easily justify making time, especially since I was making a (faltering, inept) go of being an English professor. Before that, well, I was a student, and study–or what looked like study–was expected and encouraged, and I did not fail to meet those expectations or to accept that encouragement. But since then, there have been other, more pressing and more appropriately pressing demands on my time, and so I have let go of many things I used to treasure in favor of other things that I value more.

I do not regret the choice to do so, of course (although I do regret spending as much time scrolling social media as I have, turning to ease to numb myself rather than to addressing myself to text to improve myself–and even pleasure reading offers some self-improvement, building facility with and stamina for dealing with text as it does). I would make it again if it presented itself; I expect that it will present itself again, in some form or another, and I will have the opportunity to suit my deeds to my words. But a thing not regretted can still be lamented, and I am aware that I am lessened by my not having been better about having a book in my hand than I have been.

I am, as noted, trying to correct that. There are some times that I could read that I didn’t, and I’m trying to put them to better use. For example, when I am on the treadmill at the gym–I do still try to go to the gym several times a week; my health demands it, as does my intention to push back as far as I can the day that I can’t pick my daughter up anymore–I can read through some book or another I pull down onto my phone. Unless they’re for work, they’re usually not “deep” reading–there have been some exceptions, which I have greatly appreciated–but any reading is helpful reading. (Yes, even the thinly-veiled pornography. Negative examples are useful.) And it’s better for me to do that than to stare mindlessly at recaps of last night’s sports events that I can’t hear and aren’t captioned, so…better use of my time.

I suppose I ought to ruminate more fully and with greater focus on the readings I do in that venue or in similar circumstances. Much as I have enjoyed reading throughout my life, I find that I very much like to write (and I hope that that liking shows through); it’s good to have more about which to do it.

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About the End of Last Week

I mentioned last week that I would be taking a couple of days off from my day-job to spend with my wife and daughter as they went around and did things. I mentioned, too, that I might make some account of what happened when I was with them. I try to suit my deeds to my words, in token of which, the following:

Because segues are appreciated in many places…
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On Wednesday, a week ago, my wife, Ms. 8, a friend of hers, and I drove into Austin to visit the Texas State Cemetery. It is a relatively modestly sized piece of land, placed around State Highway 165 between Navasota and Comal, 7th and 11th, and it is not full; there is still plenty of open space waiting to accept the honored dead of the Lone Star State. But there are many such dead entombed or otherwise memorialized on the grounds, though I was surprised that President Houston is not among them; the last person (so far) to walk on the moon, Capt. Gene Cernan (a Chicago native but sometime resident of Kerrville), is, as are many late governors of the state (including the often-missed Ann Richards). I found myself moved by some of the displays there, which is fitting enough.

Thursday had us take care of a few errands; there are some things that can’t be done on a weekend in a small town, and since we already had the time off scheduled, it made sense to address them when we did. Friday, though, we made our way back to Austin–my wife, Ms. 8, her friend, and I. (Now, normally, outside of tax season, I’m off on Fridays; I don’t open the office. But given that I’d taken a couple of days off for family, I think I can count it.). There, we toured the Museum of Illusions. It was a decent enough time, although I think I prefer Seismique in Houston, which we visited a few years back; a lot of it has to do with the fact that many of the installations at the Museum of Illusions require filtering through cameras, such that my wife comments it ought to be renamed the Museum of the Hyperreal.

From there, we visited Purrfecto Cat Lounge, spending half an hour in which I drank a lukewarm cup of not-good coffee while my wife, my daughter, and her friend reveled in the attentions of several cats. One snuggled in to sleep on my wife, while my daughter collected a cuddle-puddle of four cats, and her friend got to pet several others. My shoe came under assault by one frisky kitten, but only briefly; other game attracted its attention soon after.

After, we put in at Freddo, about which my wife had learned while looking for things to do with our daughter. The business is hosted in a Victorian-era home that was, when moved from its original location near the Texas Capitol, the largest house to have been moved (or so I am told); the building is beautiful, and the grounds are commodious despite the busyness of the intersection where they stand. The food was pretty good, too, which is always a help, and my wife and I got the joy of a brief conversation with some people traveling through. So that was nice.

In all, it was a decent use of time. Getting back to something like the usual routines after has taken some doing, as might be thought, but it’s nice to have had a little bit of time away from them.

You know that you can get some of this writing for your very own, right?

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