When I work at my kitchen table, I sometimes get the feeling I am being watched... I mean, I can almost feel the glittery, beady eyes of a little "varmint" staring a hole through be "from nape to izzard." If I need to draw it out? Just rattle a little bag of--- or say the word: "cheese..." lol
Anne of Green Gables, I have loved you and your quote above for so many years of my life. My friend who was a wonderful history teacher (but not a huge reader) returned from a trip through the upper northeast and Prince Edward Island!! I didn't know her itinerary. When she came home, she said casually: "Have you ever heard of anybody in some kind of a book about P.E. Island? I mean... there was a big deal about it and even a play of some kind... Beats me." I stood there kinda gulping air like a frog...
It reminded me of the story of the accountant who quit her job because she overheard all her coworkers having a fit about the US postage stamp dedicated to "yet another creep nobody ever heard of." She crept close to see a page of John Steinbeck stamps sprawled across the desk... and she walked to the boss and resigned... lol Drastic measures indeed...
Well. thinking it must be getting a bit late past midnight, I thought I would get to bed so I could rise about 6 a.m. and sear a roast for the slow cooker... I planned to add scallions and mushrooms since 'taters and carrots are out in keto... It was 5:10 A.M.!!!!!! Needless to say, my house was smelling amazing by 5:30, and we are all sleeping in this morning... which is awesome because it looks stormy, dark, and blustery outside anyway...
3 comments:
Gayla, Bless you...you had me laughing. I like the story of the history teacher and the one of the accountant. But your quote of gulping air like a frog totally did me in. ow does a cat get that high up, without breaking things. Blessings to all of you, xoxo, Susie
I love your hutch! And the beautiful baskets on top. Pretty kitty looks like another decoration! HOW does he get up there??
I love your love for my favorite month/weather/light across the lawn/feel of air like water on your skin. And I think there's sometimes a stunning voluntary ignorance in some folks which is akin to the lately-discovered "No-Netflix Pride," in which it's a virtue to be trumpeted if you DON'T watch. But on a MUCH more serious scale---I was just thinking the other day of Bob Dylan's little loving visits to his Grandson's school, and what most folks would DO to be in the same room. Bob laughed and told Jay Leno or some who that they went home and told their parents that they had to listen to a "scary guitar guy," sing again.
In that vein, aversion to or ignorance of so many gifts and interests we hold dear are unfathomable to our loyal hearts. Apropos of nothing, I DID have a very small conversation with Margaret Mead, and my dearest friend from Down South counted it as a crowning achievement in his life as a concert pianist to have been invited to "just play for a while," for the guest speaker at his college to meditate for a bit before giving a speech. He treasured for all his life that hour he spent in the auditorium with an Audience of One---Pearl S. Buck. Do you ever WISH WISH WISH that you'd written to some of your favorite authors to tell the how much they'd enriched your life? I regret that I never sent a thank you to Agnes Sligh Turnbull, Gladys Taber, Norah Lofts, Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, or Dame Agatha.
Many many happy returns to you of this most glorious of seasons---may you enjoy another hundred Octobers!
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