Odds and ends

Meredith left this morning. This means two things: I'm sad, and we're roasting a chicken for dinner.

Dad, Valerie, and Noelle called me from China this afternoon. I'm really eager for them to get back so I can hear all about the trip in detail better provided by conversations that aren't costing Dad $3/minute. This should be such an amazing experience for Noelle.
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Still making my way through Fingersmith, and I'm about halfway done now. It's been a while since I've read a novel that's so story-driven, which made it all the more surprising when someone I know recently decribed it as not story-driven enough. It's true that I have a penchant for character-based fiction, but this has me thinking about the kinds of stories I'm usually reading when I'm reading fiction. It has strengthened my resolve to dig up some of the old chestnuts on my list -- one of which, yes, is Anna Karenina.