Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
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| Like The Queen Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content. |
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1 Comments:
Ah Bess, you and I know that the movie is just 'research', right? Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] Wednesday, July 25, 2007 Today I plan to sneak away from work early and watch the Harry Potter movie. I’ve wracked my brains - I’ve scrabbled through the hours on my calendar. I just can’t find a block of time when I know I can go to the movies and I want to see this one on a big screen. This is the one HP book I didn’t read so I want "Just the Facts, Ma’am," which is all any director is going to have time to cram into 100 or so minutes. While in the past I’ve complained when there wasn’t enough fun magic in the latter films, this time I’ll stay mum. I’m going to have enough trouble with the sulky Harry, the Brave Little Spartan silence among them all, and the utterly smarmy (BH knows what pejorative I’m thinking now) Dumbledore with his weepy creepy speech at the end. But I do want to know the high points of the plot, things I could only surmise when I read Book 6. I’d like to see Nevil grow in importance, since he had been pretty peripheral ever since Book 1. I’d like to see the horcruxes come into focus and I’d like to see how Dumb. looses his hand. I would also like to skip out of work early today. There’s a 4 o’clock matinee at our little local theater. I’m gonna be there. Knitting away on a pretty lace sock. I’ve had to rip it out twice because the lace did strange things that weren’t in the pattern - all by its self, I’m sure, since I would never have done it on purpose. In fact, I tried to do it on purpose, because I came to like what it was doing very much - and then it stopped - and I couldn’t duplicate it. Lace is like that, for me. It likes to play these sneaky little tricks on me that stranded colorwork or cables wouldn’t dream of doing. They have way too much respect for my eyesight and mathematical skills. Lace, otoh, knows it’s slippery and shifty and crafty and beautiful and it knows that it is Mama’s Favorite; that TheQueen loves it best. TheQueen will forgive lace the sort of behavior she’d never permit from a cable. Lace knows that there is a large wooden box in TheQueen’s Chamber full of lengths of beautiful lace that never had to do a durn thing but exist and permit itself to be stroked now and then, or laid against a piece of silk or velvet. Lace knows that it has a hold on TheQueen’s heart that is permanent, that it taps into a secret frilly girly sugary core that is welded to the royal persona, that defines, for TheQueen, her very being. Lace is beautiful. Lace is special. Lace is just like the spoiled pretty girl you went to elementary school with, the one you forgave all sorts of things because nobody that pretty could have meant to be so mean. What Lace may not know, though, is that the frilly girly core is made of Damascus Steel and though flexibility is one of its many fine qualities, this is the substance that conquered the world and it is going to conquer lace as well. So. Ta. I’ll be back tomorrow. posted by Bess | 7:39 AM |
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