I still haven't been able to bring myself to start Harry Potter. I don't know why I find a children's book imposing. But now I have the winter fiction issue of the New Yorker, which feels like a higher priority.
Today, I had lunch with my mom and grandma at our favorite Americanized Chinese restaurant, Joy Fong. Even though we only go there a couple of times a year, the the woman who owns (?) the restaurant always remembers us. She calls my grandma "grandma." As in "oh, grandma had to leave early? where's your sister?"
My sister is on her way home, so I will stop using the phone line for slow internet access now.