I’m feeling fairly unable to write this week. Probably because I’ve been keeping up a 3,000+ words a day schedule in order to catch up with Nanowrimo (it’s going okay!). But maybe also because I’m always of the opinion that you shouldn’t be that political on the internet and this week is all about politics of the angry, screamy kind.
So instead, let’s talk home stuff.
This is the season when I get to be more of a homebody than ever. Brian and I upgraded our couch to a new one (it was more than time), and the new thing is nail head-studded, linnenish, and has these shiny round furniture feet. Best of all, it has a chaise so Brian and I can lounge all over each other when we’re watching TV. It matches the dining set we bought last year pretty well, too. So, basically we’re looking stylish. I’m already drooling over curtains.
We re-arranged our bedroom last weekend, too. It feels bigger and more cozy simultaneously. This house has so much more room than our last tiny apartment, so I raided everyone’s art stash when we moved in (and by everyone’s, I mean my mother’s), hoarded any frames I could get my grubby fingers on, and got creative with fancy paper, posters, internet print-outs, and cut up calendars. It still wasn’t enough to fill the bedroom. I remedied that this weekend. My favorite is a print of a boat on a lake with a starry sky behind it that says “It was beautiful, but difficult, to sail it.” It’s a Tolstoy quote, from Anna Karenina. I can’t seem to find the translation I used now, but here is the whole quote from a different version:
“At every step he experienced what a man would experience who, after admiring the smooth, happy motion of a boat on a lake, he finds himself sitting in it himself. He found that it was not enough to sit quietly without rocking the boat, that he had constantly to consider what to do next, that not for a moment must he forget what course to steer or that there was water under his feet… it was pleasant enough to look at it from the shore, but very hard, though very delightful, to sail it.”
It makes me warm every morning, waking up to it.
I have the ukulele out, and I’m learning new Thanksgiving songs. I’ve been madly scouring the internet for chords to “Plenty to be Thankful For,” from Holiday Inn, but can’t find anything I don’t have to pay for. We’re having dinner at my house, and I’m making pickles (among other things – but the pickles are new – from Jack-At-A-Pinch’s recipe). The Roger’s Red grapevine is just starting to turn a little pinkish around one or two of the leaves. The oranges in the grove across the street are turning bright again, and this means that the stand down the street will have them for sale again soon. We had the first fire in the fireplace last weekend.
Now if only I can manage to serve the turkey on time this year, my contentment will be complete… (I should clarify that by “I,” I mean I’ll be helping Brian with the timing. I have large amounts of freak-out when I try and prepare the dead bird for roasting, or attempt to carve the thing, so he’s the official cook, because he’s awesome).