Sure, in your neck of the woods a clump of crocuses heralds the arrival of spring.
Oh, but if only you were lucky enough to live here--in the land of mythical internet and broken refrigerators--you would get to experience the first flush of prickers and brambles that flourish across the fields. And despite the occasional snow showers and morning frost that still linger, the appearance of deer ticks is proof enough that it is finally time to let loose with that gleeful shout: spring is here!
Do I sound bitter?
(Nay, nay-- bitter was so last Wednesday when I made a $480 irreversible error -- insert gnashing of teeth-- but I shall do as my dearest Michelle advised, let it go--so I say, fly away error, fly fly! Go! Find all your misshapen brethren in that place where wretched mistakes go to fester-- go now, be as one.)
Let there be no mistake-- I am currently reveling deeply in the singular pleasures that only self-pity and that heady lightness from having all your stress buttons pushed at once can produce.
Daisy: I'm no doctor, but I'm guessing somebody needs a nap.
In the comments, Susan had asked for book recommendations which would you believe? Made me feel shy.
What is up with that? I can make a total fool of myself here 24/7 but sharing what I read is too private? It boggles the mind.
But that was honestly my reaction-- I feel like more would be revealed about me if you knew what books I was reading? I would feel judged? Who knows-- am in such a weird headspace I couldn't begin to explain my book modesty if I tried. But I would love to mock it, please.
Book modesty<--- ha!
I know I am weird, but that really takes the cake.
Okay, let's try a different approach-- because I have no such feelings about movies, let me tell you about the film I watched THREE times this winter. Three. Times. That is unheard of-- people, I think the only movies I have ever seen that many times are The Wizard of Oz and The Bourne Identity.
So I have to back up and explain that in contrast to my monastic living situation, that has all the modern amenities of a 1940s farmhouse (read: radio)-- it has been quite the indulgence to come and stay at Soliden which I have done several times this winter to watch Oliver while Dave was away. You see, at Soliden there is the man cave. And this is not any man cave this is THE man cave--the man cave that all the other men talk about when they gather in small groups around bar-b-que grills and dream aloud of their perfect man cave before women walk over and they have to pretend to be talking about sports.
We've got the dark leather sofas, the guitars, the recording equipment, the computers with the 80" monitors and *trumpets please* we have got the 1,000 foot flat screen television (okay, some of my measurements might be slightly exaggerated-- but isn't that what boys do?)
And the television has a remote that was designed to land Apollo 13. Seriously, you can get internet, cable or even Netflix just by pushing buttons. That is how I came to watch Bright Star-- I downloaded it from Netflix (by accident, sure-- but still, turned out to be a happy accident).
I am not normally a Jane Campion fan. Do I respect her talent? Absolutely. It's just that her aesthetic is a bit too dark and angry for me, and oh hell, I will fess up-- I can't seem to forgive her for casting Nicole Kidman as Isobel Archer. There, moving on.
So-- Bright Star. Oh my god. I love this movie. I think it is brilliant. Admittedly, I prefer the first half. In fact, I think the second two times I watched it-- I don't know that I watched the last 20 minutes. What I loved: the dialogue, the acting, (the sewing!), the clothes, the poetry, the sets-- I just thought it was brilliant.
Okay-- I think we are done with that lame-o review. (What can you tell us about the film, Elizabeth? Gosh, Hal, I really, really, really liked it!)
For comfort, I often reach for one of these three and I reached for all of them more than once over the past four months: House of Mirth, Age of Innocence, Point of No Return. Why are they my comfort go-to novels? Who knows-- but they are like pulling an old sweater over my shoulders. Love'em.
My latest new age-y reads?
Focusing and The power of focusing-- sensing a theme here?
Enjoyed the discovery of a couple old new age-y reads I had never perused before: Simple Abundance, Something More.
And then many, many hours with these much beloved volumes: Beauty, Why I Wake Early, Swan, Thirst, and House of Light.
But honestly, Susan-- for some great recommendations, check out this list that Shari put together-- I posted it earlier up on the right hand side there under "l.o.v.e"-- but am guessing nobody even sees those links. Oh well-- wish I could archive them.
Okay, so I think that's all I know for now-- have a great weekend-- and thank you for all your comments and emails-- they sustain me more than you can ever know.