Read All The Poems

I have poetry books by several different authors -- Pablo Neruda, John O'Donohue, Rumi, Kahlil Gibran -- neatly piled on my bedside table. Now that The Project is finished, I shall enjoy reading for pleasure. Ideally, every night.

Yesterday evening was Pablo Neruda. How eloquently he captures the fire of love.

Aspero amor, violeta coronada de espinas,
matorral entre tantas pasiones erizado,
lanza de los dolores, corola de la cólera,
por qué caminos y cómo te dirigiste a mi alma?

          O harsh love, violet crowned with thorns,
          prickly thicket between so many passions,
          painful spear, corolla of rage,
          what roads and means brought you to my soul?

Clean All The Things

Herself speaks.

While I was working on The Project, I had to allow certain things to lapse - like the tidiness and rigorous cleaning of the house. Now that I am done, I devoted today to Cleaning All The Things. Thus far, I have:

Reorganized the pantry and the cupboard under the stairs
Cleaned the kitchen, including That Corner with all the Miscellany
Tidied all of the downstairs rooms and dusted a bit, too
Reorganized the closet in the Room of Requirement (eek)
Vacuumed and steam-cleaned all of the carpets downstairs
Cleaned the birdcage
Cleaned the hamster habitat
Mopped all the tile
Vacuumed the stairs
Taken care of five (or six?) loads of laundry, folded everything and put it away
Washed various dog beds and dog blankets
Cleaned three bathrooms
Put fresh sheets on Offspring the Second's bed, since he arrives late tonight

I think that might be it. Somehow it doesn't seem like all that much, really, when I write it down. Yet it has taken over ten hours to get this far. All that remains right now, though, is to put fresh sheets in the master bedroom and vacuum upstairs.

Poor house. It needed work. It is better and cleaner now. How long will it stay this way?

Thank you, Hyperbole and a Half. You are always magnificent. 

Hello

Herself speaks. 

Beloved Husband is out fetching Offspring the Second from college for the summer. It will be nice to have Offspring the Second home.

It is Friday night, and I have no work to do on The Project, for it is finished.

I suppose I could clean the house. Sigh. That's a large task, best undertaken when fresh in the morning. (That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.)

I secretly wish I had someone to talk to. Picking up the phone and calling someone, though, is not something I can do easily. Alas.

Perhaps I shall read a book.

This fabulous phone was found here: 

http://www.amazon.com/Vintage-ROTARY-fashioned-Rotary-Telephone/dp/B00A66R3YY

Why We Love J.K. Rowling

The whole story is described by Buzzfeed, here. Suffice it to say, J.K. Rowling reaches out and brings hope even in the darkest of times. Kudos to her. 

On behalf of humanity, thank you, J.K. Rowling. 

Found here: 

https://twitter.com/jk_rowling/status/730429168509460481/photo/1?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw

X 6

Herself speaks.

I've been slowly plowing through episodes of The X Files as I use my elliptical trainer, and am now in the midst of Season 6. For the first time since I began watching the series, I skipped over an episode. (Actually, I skipped over two episodes, since it was a two-part story line.)

I'd just finished a "transported back in history" episode; I have plenty of trouble with such storylines, since I am always reminded of that Ray Bradbury short story, A Sound of Thunder, where the demise of a butterfly in the past changes the course of events in the future. The next two episodes were "body switching" episodes. And I just couldn't. The idea of two people exchanging bodies and having to pretend to be someone else, knowing what they know and behaving as they would behave, causes a level of squeamishness that I just cannot tolerate. I'm not sure why that is. It just is.

I've moved on to the next episodes, and am pleased that Scully and Mulder (and occasionally Skinner) are back to their usual, correct-time-period-and-body goings-on.

A few thoughts:

Will Scully and Mulder ever become romantically entangled? Part of me genuinely hopes not; they have such a lovely, intellectual, heartfelt companionship, that I can't help but think that romance would alter that somehow. On the other hand, perhaps being romantically involved is a natural progression, since they have been through so much together and understand one another so well. We shall see.

Could the show please weave Skinner into more episodes? He is a marvelous character: complex, carefully walking the line between duty to the bureau and support for Mulder and Scully's more bizarre cases. Conflicted, stern yet obviously caring, and intelligent (and, it must be said, quite attractive) -- more Skinner, please.

I am tired of Krychek.

I am also tired of the theme of "shutting down the X Files". Let's just let Mulder and Scully get back to work, shall we?

Also: I am not sure who is more attractive, Mulder or Scully. How did they manage to populate this show with such good-looking individuals? And their costuming is outstanding. I wish I could carry off Scully's crisply tailored pantsuits.

On the other hand, why are they so frequently wearing trenchcoats? Don't they get hot?

Do they carry flashlights in their pockets? They always seem to have one when they need one.

Could they please TURN ON THE LIGHTS in more episodes? Everything is so dark. Perhaps that explains the omnipresent flashlights, though.

What will happen next, I wonder?

The trio, found here: http://www.xfilesuniverse.com/news/tag/lone-gunmen/

Rose Gold

Herself speaks.

I have shoes for the wedding in which I must participate.  They are "rose gold" in color, according to the description on the website at which I purchased them. They are surprisingly comfortable for fancy footwear. I like them very much.

I know that "blush" is not the right color for me at all; it is unflattering to my skin tone, my body type, and my age. (And as a side note, I also chafe mightily at the violent and neon pinks that permeate women's clothing, especially sportswear, these days. What on earth has been done to pink?) Nevertheless, way deep down inside, I do secretly harbor a little-girl love of all things pale pink and ruffly and feminine. To be enamored of pink at this stage in my life seems a bittersweet longing, to be young and dainty and girly. That will never happen. Alas.

Still: I have most satisfactory footwear for this event. And that, for now, is good enough.

Mariposa

Today's earworm: Mariposa Tracionera, by Mana.

It makes me want to go out dancing. (Though I'm not entirely sure I could dance to this particular song, without some practice.) It has been so long; my dancing might be rusty. Perhaps I shall dance in the kitchen instead.

I hope you enjoy.