Asthenic Sunday...

I'm not entirely sure I'm using the word "asthenic" correctly—I mean it to denote "loss of strength"—but since it was the central theme of a translation I wrote today, and since I feel exactly as if someone had punched a hole in my strength reservoir, the subject title stands.

It turns out my editor has died. As I apparently lack whatever gene it is that compels some to hunt down all the details, that fact is about all I know. He was last week, and is no more.

We were virtual acquaintances, linked by our work, through email and the occasional phone call. A good editor makes a good translator great, and that's what Mike did for me. I'm going to miss him.

* * *In the middle of the day, Galina and I got a hankering for some ice cream, so we drove down to the local ice cream shop and walked out with a waffle cone apiece, somewhat sticker-shocked at the price we had paid for such enjoyment.

I don't know about you, friend, but it's gotten to the point where it's becoming very difficult to walk out of the grocery or a restaurant—on the increasingly rare occasions we go into one—and not walk out feeling significantly lighter in the wallet. And although nobody wants to talk about inflation—elections are just around the corner, after all—I get the feeling, from talking to folks, that quite a number of people are at least as aware as I am that prices have been going up, and don't look to be slowing down any time soon.

Cheers...