This weekend was wonderfully nice out. Well, Saturday was, anyway. I got to go to the zoo with a friend of mine, just because it was so nice. Sadly, we didn’t get in to see the baby panda, and they had that whole chunk of the zoo roped off so we couldn’t even go around and see the elephants. I’m still pretty irritated about that. I mean, I understand wanting to keep your cash cow strictly controlled, but come on. Do the words “ Panda Cam ” mean nothing? Free, easy, and you don’t have to stand in line or be spoken down to by rude ladies with “zoo volunteer” t shirts. If you’re in the area, go to the Amazonia exhibit there, though. Just remember to duck when you’re dive bombed by a macaw.
Sunday I came to the conclusion that I need a good, new book. I’m afraid I’m all out of books here in my home port that I haven’t read several times over already. Especially the mysteries. I love the classics: Ngiao Marsh, Agatha Christie, Rex Stout. I think Nero Wolfe is frighteningly clever, don’t you? Even if he does make Archie do everything. And Good old Miss Marple- she knitted rather a lot, too. Just shows how very clever she was. *sigh* So I’m looking for suggestions. I’ve also been known to read a fantasy novel or two. I admit a certain fondness for the Chicks in Chainmail series of anthologies. Any ideas?