Long, long, long ago, I used to love a good Stephen King book. I'm not sure if my ceasing to read Stephen King came with my growing out of it or if he had lost the magic. There's something about this summer that has put me back in the mood for a good Stephen King read, but I don't know if that's possible anymore...
I ran across this one the other day. Has anyone read Under the Dome?? The fact that he started writing it long, long ago, gives me hope, but not enough to pony up. No, it's not even the moola. I can go to the library. I don't want to waste the time. I don't want to get to page 573 and regret it. I don't want to be hoping for an It, or The Stand, or The Shining, only to get The Langoliers or Tommyknockers... or even Insomnia. While I enjoyed reading Insomnia (the last Stephen King I think I read, before I had lamblets), I was disappointed by the ending. Is it possible to still be scared by Stephen King? Is it possible to still be surprised? I'm kind of hoping so.
Anyhow... if anyone has read Under the Dome... speak up!
I ran across this article this morning... it asks, "What exactly is a living room?"... and goes on to discuss architectural takes on this type of room. I scanned the article, feeling too impatient to read the entire piece, but did not see any mention of what I had always heard... that the living room became the living room, and ceased to be the parlor, after the tradition of laying out deceased relatives in one's home came to an end.... Now they went to the funeral parlor and the living room was just for the living...
I could Google this to check its accuracy, but I'm feeling too antsy to check. Besides, I like the story... whether true or not.
When I was a kid, long before knowing anything about the origins of the "living room", all I knew was it was next to the dining room... but in my mind, it was the dying room. Somehow it made sense. Of course the living room would be next to the dying room... not that any dying went on in the dying room. Meals were eaten in the dying room, entertaining was done, conversations were shared. My brothers loved corny puns. They probably killed many people during many a meal with their bad puns. Maybe that's why it was the dying room.
But back to the living room... I lived in Chicago long enough, and have lived with Grizzled, who has spent more time in the Chicago area than I have, that I now call the living room the "front room"... except you kind of have to say it as one word, and run it together... some say "frahnroom", some say "frunchroom". I still kind of cringe when I say this. It works in this house though because the living room is still in the front. If and when we ever live elsewhere, and the living room is in the back, or the side, or hell... even the front, I'm going back to the land of the living... it will be the living room once again, and will probably be next to the dying room.
The Eldest Lamblet has safely returned home. I snuffled her head as much and as discreetly as I could while at the airport so as not to cause undue embarrassment, etc. She smells different. It's still her, but different. She smells more... mature.
I was telling Grizzled, I feel like this trip was a dose of Miracle-Gro. We've dosed our babe with Miracle-Gro and there's no turning back. The blossoming, which was already so wonderfully underway, has developed in ways we couldn't even imagine. Fasten your seat belts.
And while the E.L. was away, the Youngest Lamblet got Mom and Dad all to herself. She basked in the attention... basked in not having to share. She was born having to share. It was nice for her to have it all to herself.
There are many moments when having kids is frustrating, exhausting, confusing, but on the whole, I'd have to say the thing I feel the most with these two humans who alit on my life's path, is that witnessing them and being a temporary guardian of their journey feels like a privilege.
Found this site... I Write Like... You paste in a paragraph or two of your writing and they tell you which author you write like... I don't consider myself a writer so I expected to get a blank. I didn't. I tried 3 times and got:
HDB not only sent me an image of those saucy little donut peaches... but they're surrounded by lots of other alluring produce. I wish this photo were scratch and sniff, or scratch and taste, but come to think of it... it doesn't need to be. I can smell it. I can taste it... it will haunt me in my dreams...
I bought my donut ("flat") peaches at a less than first rate produce store and they were still marvelous. I can only imagine what these must have tasted like.
HDB pointed out that this photo was taken in 2008, two years before my encounter. Hmf.
It just dawned on me... HDB was surely using a LENS to photograph this!! I wonder if he used a Tongariro icicle lens. Dear. Gawd. He could have turned the entire stand into compote!
There is the rare weather/body situation where certain types of weather, which on most days would be intolerable, becomes somewhat transcendent. Something allows you to stop resisting it and you just become part of the atmosphere.
It can happen, cold or hot, rainy or dry.
You're going about your day and you realize, it's really hot. It's really humid, but it feels ok. No, it feels better than ok. It's like your body and the surrounding air made a truce, your skin blurs into the atmosphere instead of pushing against, and you're just going for the ride.
I love beets so I'm guessing I'll love the recipes. I have no beet hate to overcome. I picked some beets last evening and even loved the gentle scent wafting from the innocent beet. What's to hate? I don't get it. There are other things I love, but can still understand why people might dislike them... like cilantro, or mushrooms, or asparagus. I can see why those might annoy a taste bud. They don't annoy mine, but I can see how they might.
But a beet? Is there anything more innocuous?? It's subtle. It's slightly sweet. It's good prepared a number of different ways. It's gorgeous. That color alone ought to make you want to try it. And the texture? If picked at the right time and prepared the right way... it's yielding yet snappy. What's not to like? What am I missing? What is the turn off? If anything, I would expect more of a meh response, but it seems that people who hate beets don't just find them meh, they find them gag-worthy.
I suppose the same thing could be said for my dislike of lima beans... it's not their flavor (they don't really have one) so much as it is their wet cardboard texture. However, if fresh... if served the right way, even I can get on board with the lowly lima bean. Seems people don't feel the same way about beets. For those who hate them, there is no salvation... just disdain.