Like The Queen
Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.


I am inspired and may have to go read (or re-read? did I read this?) The Long Winter, since you made it so attractive with in your sidebar review.

I will DEFINITELY rent A DANGEROUS BEAUTY, thanks to your sidebar review. I can't even remember if I ever saw a commercial for that, but it's a period costume drama. 'Nuf said. Since it's a GOOD one - all the better!

I think you should retire RIGHT NOW and start writing your Great American Novel (or Autobiography, or Whatever Genre You Feel Led to Write). We'd all be better off for it! And when you hit a period of writer's block, you get up from your desk and spin on Bella.

By Blogger Mary, at 7:46 PM  

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Tuesday, May 30, 2006  

Teach me to talk about glorious (borrowed) New England weather. Today the mercury is supposed to slop over the 90 mark. Of course, it may have gotten that hot yesterday. I never checked, but I did go swimming, briefly, as there’s still a hint of winter in the river. This was the first swim of the season and Jack’s first since last summer. He leapt out of the boat and with the other two, headed for groundhog heaven, in the fields beyond the shoreline, sandy and saltbush fringed. He also didn’t come when we called and only remembered us when the engine kicked over. He couldn’t believe we’d leave without him and had forgotten the routine from last summer. He yelped and barked all the way home. We don’t really abandon them on the opposite shore, merely putter across about half way and let them swim to us. For all that my dogs will go in the water, they don’t always stay in long enough to wash out shedding fur. They’re far more interested in pawing up the fields and sniffing out secrets in the hedgerows. The oldsters have figured out just what intonation our voice needs to have to mean business and come running before we’re 3 yards off shore, but Jack has forgotten everything he learned in swimming school last year. He’ll learn again.

I took the past two days off from blogging. Not that I didn’t log on and read how the rest of knitting-blog-land is doing, but I just felt like saying “On Vacation” by writing nothing. Besides, I had no momentous news nor any lovely pictures to share. Besides #2, there’s a little hint of anxiety that seeps into my psyche each Memorial Day. It’s compounded of End of Fiscal Year Budget issues, Beginning of Fiscal Year Budget Issues, Geometric Increase in Demands from Patrons, Wildly Grandiose Ideas that We’ll Take Care of That This Summer and a certain YouthEnvy that, 55 years after I am no longer in school, is still asking why I, too, am not getting the summer off. Not that I ever got the summer off. My folk were the sort who had chores and duties and responsibilities and expectations for their children, waiting for that pretty morning in June when no yellow school busses rolled down suburban streets. If I ever slept late in the morning, which I doubt I ever did, it was till 7 o’clock. No little girls on Westover Hills Blvd. lay about till lunch time, only to grope their way to the kitchen looking for sugar frosted lunches. That may be why I still feel guilty if I’m reading in bed at 9 a.m. with BD, who did spend his summers in unending, unsupervised play. I keep telling myself that when I am retired (?!?) I will have leisurely summers off. I bet I don’t. I bet I am still up at 5 and Doing Things.

And so I shall just put one foot in front of the next for a few weeks and once summer gets creaking along I’ll remember that I’m glad to be in air-conditioned quiet, with bare legs and sandals because I Live In The Country and nobody expects the Library Director to have on pantyhose. An aside here - I’m nodding my head vigorously at C’s lament - What's with all the strapless sandals?!? What could be more juvenile than 50% of the population clack-clacking around in shoes that won’t stay on their feet? Some sort of occidental version of Chinese foot binding? Hobble those women with thong sandals that slap against the floor so you can what - hide the porn sites you’re viewing? stop telling dirty jokes by the snack machine? feel warned of impending feminine threats?

Hmm. I sound particularly grumpy this morning - that is fear, I am sure, or at best, anxiety. Rats. I really want to post about the lovely singles I’ve almost finished spinning. Maybe, I ought to just go spin it all up instead of trying to sound erudite - or at least interesting - on a Tuesday when I don’t want to Be In Charge. Why am I not a clerk at Wal-mart?


posted by Bess | 6:37 AM