I (and each of my teammates) won an award at work, because things went south in August and we all worked so hard to make them right. I searched the website and actually could not find a kitchen gadget I wanted. This bag caught my eye though, for the color, obviously. It’s called “arugula.” I’ve never owned such a chichi bag in my life. It actually came with another bag to keep the bag in. I look forward to sporting it at Hannaford’s.
I had off today. Xopher did not. The guy doing the trim on the never-ending window replacement did not. So I could not sleep late and I could not go anywhere with my S.O. I passed the morning making a mini pumpkin chocolate chip bread, carding some ruby-amethyst mohair, doing a bit of an easy 16×16 sudoku, raking out the barn a bit. After lunch I took a bike to town hall to drop off our ballots! Then I went to Phoenix Books to slake my never-ending bookthirst, and then took a scenic drive to capture a couple of more Vermont towns for my VT251 club project. Was an OK day.
McCullers is at her best when her stories are about adolescents (almost always motherless, often gender-bending, and with a father who’s a jeweler) on the cusp of change. But I loved immersing myself in her world in every story.
This collection of short pieces culminates with MEMBER OF THE WEDDING; but I’ve read that very recently, so it wasn’t time for a re-read. For me it culminated with BALLAD OF THE SAD CAFE. This is a very sad piece (as the title warns) featuring a grotesque cast of characters and a miserable ending. It is not “my thing”; but it was still a story to grab me by the throat, and it provided all of the collection’s best quotes.
“It is known that if a message is written with lemon juice on a clean sheet of paper there will be no sign of it. But if the paper is held for a moment to the fire then the letters turn brown and the meaning becomes clear. Imagine that the whiskey is fire and that the message is that which is known only in the soul of a man – then the worth of Miss Amelia’s liquor can be understood.”
“The atmosphere of a proper cafe implies these qualities: fellowship, the satisfactions of the belly, and a certain gaiety and grace of behavior.” That should be put on a sign and sold to cafe owners everywhere.
“In order to come into the cafe you did not have to buy the dinner, or a portion of liquor. There were cold bottled drinks for a nickel. And if you could not even afford that, Miss Amelia had a drink called Cherry Juice which sold for a penny a glass… There, for a few hours at least, the deep bitter knowing that you are not worth much in this world could be laid low.” ( )
Below is my new office window, twice the size as it was before; and my new Verilux, which is a SAD*-alleviating light source put out by a company in Waitsfield VT. My neurologist recommended it. So far it’s 100% effective!
And OMG just look at the pretty fall picture outside those windows. I like to think of my widows as picture frames. Lots of people would pay money for pictures like that.
I have no idea how this disjointed mess became a classic of children’s literature. ( )
I’m so depressed. I feel like I pissed away these past two weeks. The windows project is never going to end. It’s raining. We ordered and paid for hay that hasn’t been delivered. Milkweed has been off his feed for going on two weeks. I don’t want to do my live video tomorrow. Warm weather is over. I can’t sleep anymore without chemicals. I have to go back to work Monday morning. My work iPhone locked me out. and Oh! we live in a failed state and soon we will all know more & more people who have gotten seriously ill or died from our constant companion the virus.
I need to quit Facebook and I need to quit the news. I MEAN IT.
I asked my friends, if any of them started talking about the debate, to please not talk to me about it. And of course they obliged. But when I tried to look at my FB feed that’s all it was! It’s all national politics. I wish there were no such thing as cross-posting. If everyone had to think up their own things whenever they wanted to share, there’d be so much less talk about anything.
National politics is a dumb game. I don’t care if I’m called a coward or willfully ignorant. It’s such a stupid shitshow. How little of it actually trickles down to affect our lives? I’m not saying I won’t vote. I’m saying I’m not tuning into the soap opera.
And I know the fault’s with me. I look at FB or the news telling myself I won’t read anything about Trumpass, but I do. I realize it’s an addiction. That’s why I’m trying to hold myself accountable here.