Grizzly of Celeste
Dec. 16th, 2023 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoThe sleep deprivation continued. Last night I finally got a decent slug of morpheum, resulting in a better day on which not EVERYTHING I did seemed completely futile and unworthy of recording. We actually ran around like mad trying to get ready for Christmas. We went to the farmers market this morning and bought bags and bags of items that seemed necessary. I made the young organic farmers very happy by stocking up on veggies at their stand: carrots, leeks, greens, radishes, beets, cabbage. We got ham and mead and mushrooms and eggs and apples. Also the last of the stollen from the bakery stall! But there were no Christmas trees. So we quickly unloaded at home and then went to the garden store to find one. Gosh, they are expensive this year. It's in the garage in a bucket of water, waiting until the Nipper and his family get here so they can help us decorate. Most of the veggies are in the garage too. My refrigerator isn't that big, and it is "the porch is my fridge" season. The garage is better than the porch because it probably won't get below freezing right now.
Yesterday, we had a phone call with the Diva, and gave a shout-out to Kansas, whose voice could be heard in the background. She says he is just very happy to be home, and is feeling better because he can get a good night's sleep without people waking him up. We've sent almost all of our cards and gifts off. I'm still feeling not ready and having sad thoughts about the past and anxious thoughts about the future. La de da. Christmas is supposed to be so darn cozy at my age! All those pleasant pictures of Ol' Grandma beaming as the guests arrive, without a care in the world! Like so many things, on arrival, the place looks different from the way it did in the ads.
Speaking of cozy, we started re-reading LotR as a bedtime story. Cozy it's not. We just got to Weathertop last night, where poor old Frodo experiences a dire compulsion to PUT ON THE RING, and as much as he tries not to, he has to yield. Then the Witch King stabs him with a Morgul knife whose poison will inevitably work its way to his heart and bring him under the domination of the wraiths. Oh, oops, sorry about the spoilers just in case you never read or heard of this book. Anyway, I felt it was a lot like me and the urge I feel to just open up the laptop and scroll around aimlessly to escape my own thoughts. And then the poison works its way toward my heart . . . . Yeah, like I said, la de da . . . .
In a desperate bid for some coziness, I have found myself re-reading Winter Solstice by Rosamunde Pilcher, not just once but twice. When I got to the end, I started in again. There's a lot to criticize in this so-called novel, which is utterly predictable, full of cliches and authorial quirks and very bourgeois. Nevertheless, it exercises an uncanny fascination for me right now. One thing I like about it is that the most interesting characters are an old couple--or at least oldER, since I realized they're still ten years my junior!--and a young girl. The more romantic leads in the prime of life are comparatively boring, making the usual stupid life choices which they then have to bail themselves out of, while the cranky elderly reader taps her fingers and mutters "oh get on with it fer Pete's sake." It takes place mostly in northern Scotland, where I revel in the descriptions of snow and icy beaches and early dark. At some point, a person is given a house, and money turns up in the nick of time, always satisfactory events in a story. I have a perfectly nice house, but for some reason the idea of someone just giving one a little house is very attractive to me. People have dinners and buy each other gifts and are kind to each other, and a merry Christmas is had in spite of all obstacles. And at the end of the book, the lost are found, sorrows are assuaged, and everyone finds the place they need and want, both in their dwelling place and in the hearts of just the right people. May it be so for you and me. And whatever you do, don't put on that ring!!
Yesterday, we had a phone call with the Diva, and gave a shout-out to Kansas, whose voice could be heard in the background. She says he is just very happy to be home, and is feeling better because he can get a good night's sleep without people waking him up. We've sent almost all of our cards and gifts off. I'm still feeling not ready and having sad thoughts about the past and anxious thoughts about the future. La de da. Christmas is supposed to be so darn cozy at my age! All those pleasant pictures of Ol' Grandma beaming as the guests arrive, without a care in the world! Like so many things, on arrival, the place looks different from the way it did in the ads.
Speaking of cozy, we started re-reading LotR as a bedtime story. Cozy it's not. We just got to Weathertop last night, where poor old Frodo experiences a dire compulsion to PUT ON THE RING, and as much as he tries not to, he has to yield. Then the Witch King stabs him with a Morgul knife whose poison will inevitably work its way to his heart and bring him under the domination of the wraiths. Oh, oops, sorry about the spoilers just in case you never read or heard of this book. Anyway, I felt it was a lot like me and the urge I feel to just open up the laptop and scroll around aimlessly to escape my own thoughts. And then the poison works its way toward my heart . . . . Yeah, like I said, la de da . . . .
In a desperate bid for some coziness, I have found myself re-reading Winter Solstice by Rosamunde Pilcher, not just once but twice. When I got to the end, I started in again. There's a lot to criticize in this so-called novel, which is utterly predictable, full of cliches and authorial quirks and very bourgeois. Nevertheless, it exercises an uncanny fascination for me right now. One thing I like about it is that the most interesting characters are an old couple--or at least oldER, since I realized they're still ten years my junior!--and a young girl. The more romantic leads in the prime of life are comparatively boring, making the usual stupid life choices which they then have to bail themselves out of, while the cranky elderly reader taps her fingers and mutters "oh get on with it fer Pete's sake." It takes place mostly in northern Scotland, where I revel in the descriptions of snow and icy beaches and early dark. At some point, a person is given a house, and money turns up in the nick of time, always satisfactory events in a story. I have a perfectly nice house, but for some reason the idea of someone just giving one a little house is very attractive to me. People have dinners and buy each other gifts and are kind to each other, and a merry Christmas is had in spite of all obstacles. And at the end of the book, the lost are found, sorrows are assuaged, and everyone finds the place they need and want, both in their dwelling place and in the hearts of just the right people. May it be so for you and me. And whatever you do, don't put on that ring!!
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Date: 2023-12-18 04:04 pm (UTC)