I have been keeping a "round and round" journal in which I make brief notations of what has happened on that particular day-- each year I come round to the same day again. I don't want to write much therein, however, because that journal is intended to last for my lifetime. In addition it is getting very difficult for me to write by hand-- I have Depruytens Contracture and the fingers of my hand are inclined to spas and cramp and stick out in weird directions. So I have decided to start yet another blog, solely for my own amusement, and to keep track of what I cook, what I read, what I watch, what I sew, what I plant, etc.
Today started very rainy, continuing the pattern set yesterday. I took advantage of that weather to begin sorting out the two closets in Margaret's room with a determined will to get rid of things. I like the idea that when I die my closets will look precisely ordered-- in fact, all of the cleaning and organizing that I have been doing over the last year is with a view to leaving this world behind. Perhaps I will get so doddery that my efforts will be in vain and the closets will end up crammed with miscellaneous junk-- let us hope not. I am now mostly done and have accumulated three large bags of clothing and blankets for the UU sale as well as a large bag of things to throw away.
As so often happens, Wayne came asking for a ride to town. I told him yes, eventually, and the Amazon fairy rewarded me with a "sold, ship now" order so that I could pack up a book for mailing and make my good deed useful to myself as well as to Wayne. Also finally mailed the photo book about Mildred that we wanted to give to Peter Langhans.
Yesterday I made perhaps the first tasty black bean soup of my cooking career. So often bean soups are dull and dreary and require lots of onions and sour cream to make them palatable. This one, from Jack Bishop, used a bottle of beer, cumin, chili powder and lime joice-- (I only had lemon but it still tasted great). With it we had warmed corn tortillas and coleslaw. I had leftover soup for lunch today, then headed out to the garden. I have been working very hard several days a week since we returned from our bike ride and most of the spring clean-up is done but I keep finding things I want to move so my work perpetuates itself. There are some perfect bits, such as the proximity of the azalea and driftwood shown above.
Yesterday, as part of the cleaning splurge, I ironed shirts while watching Emma Thompson in the movie Wit. I had seen it before but completely misremembered it-- in my memory when she received a diagnosis of stage four ovarian cancer, she decided to forgo treatment and died gracefully. On the contrary, she plunged into an extreme and experimental treatment with great determination and resolve, only belatedly realizing that she was a guinea pig. She died in great suffering without any remission of her illness. I thought it was great but read a review online today that said it was all trite and overworked garbage. So much for my opinion! I hope I remember it if (when?) my turn comes. In the evening I watched Age of Innocence with John. I have never been an Edith Wharton fan but did think I might try to read the original novel now that I have seen and enjoyed the movie.
Today I finished listening to Cider House Rules. I have not read any reviews yet so how do I know WHAT to think? It was more difficult for me to get into than Owen Meany but I enjoyed it very much in the end. Years ago I read his first book (Garp) and was so traumatized by the ending that I never read anything else-- and I mean years ago before I met John. It must have been about when the book was first published. Recently one of my fellow "spinners" (bicycles at the YMCA) said that Owen Meany is a book he rereads every year. Intrigued by this I got it on audible and let me tell you it got me through a lot of miles on my bicycle ride! I was mesmerized and often thought that it was a great audio book because of Owen's "wrecked voice". So, even though I didn't buy the whole entire concept on which the book was based, I still loved it. Reading Cider House was like trying to get used to a new boyfriend-- it just wasn't Owen but eventually I came around. John Irving has a lot of very lovable characters and lots of sympathy for the less lovable ones like Melony and Mr. Rose. Now I have started to read Widow for one Year and I am, of course, having trouble-- keep thinking I should get it on audible rather than read it. I am afraid that I will become less and less able to read as time goes on. Fortunately I can listen while I clean, sew and garden as well as in the car if I am alone. I have lots of books lined up on audible including The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire but I am leaning toward starting Bring up the Bones.
No comments:
Post a Comment