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Have you seen that commercial on TV where someone calls customer service and talks to a burly man with a Slavic accent named "Peggy"? Well, yesterday I received an email from someone on our help desk in Bangalore whose last name is "Johnson".
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We have new recycling service here in the Fort. No longer will we have to separate our recyclables into paper and aluminum-glass-plastic1&2. And there's more: plastic 3-7 will also be accepted. The two small bins we have had to lug up and down our driveways will be replaced with a single big bin on wheels. I don't have the new big bin yet, and force of habit led me to separate my recyclables, but when they picked them up this week, I watched. Yes, they took it all, including the plastic-5 containers, and they threw it all together into the truck. I watched the sanitation worker bend and lift and toss while trying to maintain his footing in the snow and ice, and I was glad I work in a clean well-lighted place.
Speaking of Hemingway, I recently read A Moveable Feast which he wrote about his years in Paris. It's been a long time since I read any Hemingway, like maybe 35 or 40 years? His style appeals to me - no flourishes, no extra padding, adjectives and adverbs being the enemies of that one true sentence.
Last night I finished Shadow of a Doubt, by William J. Coughlin. It's a courtroom-centered murder mystery, the type of book I usually save for "beach reading" (even though I never go to the beach). Winter reading should center on more weighty topics, like How to Live. I just started this book by Sarah Bakewell; it's a biography of the original essayist Montaigne.
What are you reading on these cold winter nights?