My Afternoon

And so, dear Reader, I spent 3 glorious hours this afternoon ensconced in a chair on the deck totally engaged in reading Middlemarch, probably my favorite novel of all time.

This is my third or fourth reading and I finally had to buy a new book because my original copy, dating from my college years, is coming apart. I kind of miss my old book with its underlined passages and scribbled notes in the margin but new or old, I am still hopelessly in love with Dorothea Brooke, the novel's heroine, and totally in awe of George Eliot's wisdom, her insight into human nature and her ability to write such a complex story so effortlessly. This is what novel writing is all about to me--creating a whole world, meeting a whole host of different people, working on a big scale not just replaying the seemingly endless anxieties of some narcissitic hero, usually male of course.


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A Nearly Perfect Start of the Day

This is the way to start a day especially a beautiful sunny one--at last, at last!--overlooking a crystal clear lake, surrounded by pine trees.

First item on the agenda--have a fresh fruit smoothie, my newest passion. Thanks to the gift of a fabulous and powerful blender, I am whipping up delicious tasting and deliciously colored concoctions on a daily basis. This morning's treat was made of strawberries, peaches, orange and banana but others have featured blueberries or kiwis or cantelope or raspberries, whatever is on hand.

Second activity--a one on one yoga session. (Yes, I am following in my daughter's footsteps but isn't it wonderful when your grown children can introduce you to something new.) This session takes place on the dock with the sun beating down on us and a steady breeze cooling us down. How beautiful it is to do yoga looking out over the lake! In fact, it almost seems at times as if I am floating on the lake since the water level is so high from all the rain we've had. Ah, namaste.

Now, it's just 2 o'clock in the afternoon. The rest of the day stretches ahead of me, all blue and gold and green. Shall I go for a run, find a tennis game or just settle down on the deck and begin to read Middlemarch?

A New Leaf

I am going on a "new regime." (BTW, this was a favorite phrase of my mother's usually accompanied by a pointed finger for emphasis, and most likely aimed at my dad or my brother and me.)

For the rest of the summer, I vow to read only fiction--no more weighty tomes about world wars and world problems and corrupt p0liticians. The Big Event is just one month away and I only want positive vibes flowing my way. (God knows the weather isn't helping. We are back in the tunnel of grey and wet.) That is not to say that Danielle Steele is now on my reading list. I do have standards and a tradition to uphold. I am the proud daughter of a mother who kept a copy of "Pride and Prejudice" in her bathroom for when the occasion demanded a good long read.

Book Report

I've been reading the most boring books lately. Right now, I 'm slogging my way through a history of the Italian campaigns against Austria during World War I. I love all things about Italy--the food, the style, the language--but this book is literally Too Much Information and will in no way contribute to my appreciation of Marcella's sublime eggplant parmigiana. The only thing that reading this book confirms is that Italian politics are totally fucked up and have been so way before Berlusconi!

What I need is a return to a big fat classic with lots of interesting characters and a story that you never want to end. I'm contemplating a Dickens novel or maybe middle period Henry James or, here's a thought, going for the gold and rereading Middlemarch for the third time.

At Last

Three straight days of sunshine. I even got to hang my laundry!

WTF?!

It's freezing outside, the wind is howling and just in case we misssed anything it's pouring too. But I am snug as a bug in a rug in front of a roaring fire. (Did you know that I am famous for my one match infernos?) What could be better than toasting my feet on the hearth, a glass of wine in hand, a fat book on my lap, some mellow tunes in the background. Except that's it's fucking July 7th, summertime, goddammit.

At Last

I feel like a snake that that has crawled out of its hole after a long winter of hibernation. I am sitting on the deck all alone reveling in the feel of the sun on my face. At last, we are experiencing a quintessential Maine day--brilliant sun, white clouds scudding across the sky. I don't want to move from this spot.

The Real Reality

Let's call a spade, a spade. This weather sucks. It's grey, it's wet, we will never see the sun, the moon or the stars. We are being punished for our sins, for not electing Al Gore, for allowing George Bush to be president. We are all suffering from SAD, seasonal affective disease. We will never see a fresh tomato.