(no subject)
1. I sat down at the computer today and realized that for the first time in months (or perhaps even years, but who's counting) that I have nothing to research for the new house. I feel lost and obscurely purposeless. In reality, of course, what this means is that I can pick up the threads of my (oh-so-distant-feeling) past life and move on with that. Now, if only I can remember what that life was....
2. The ceiling turned out, in my opinion, to look very well indeed. Have a look.The fireplace is being started this weekend, although in a different brick finish than we had originally imagined. The builder has suddenly remembered that we need a hearth around the fireplace, which excited a bit of email back and forth. All under control, now, though, hopefully. The countertops are also installed, as is the kitchen sink. Pictures will be linked to as they go up.
3. In other, non-house related things, spring may finally sprung enough that I can ride my bicycle to work on Monday. Frankly, the roads have been clear enough these last two weeks, but the place where I chain my bicycle up at work has been completely obscured by snow, and that has been the limiting factor that I've been waiting to see resolved. A late start to biking this year, since in better years I've been on the road at the beginning of March, but one has to bow to the weather gods.
4. I have managed to do a bit of reading in the dreary spring, which was nice. I finally got around to reading Lark Rise to Candleford by Flora Thompson. I'd been meaning to read this since mumble years ago when I first read Little, Big by John Crowley, wherein he had an epigraph taken from one of the books. ("We are bubbles of earth! Bubbles of earth! Bubbles of earth!") It proved a difficult book to get my hands on, but I eventually managed to get a copy from the local library. I was quite touched by the book, as well as finding it intriguing from a historical point of view. I can't imagine it being a very popular book, sadly. Indeed, it made my "list of books that I could choose that my book club would hate" list. That has, over the years, turned into a pretty extensive list. Someday I should make a post on that.
5. Sometimes I feel like I have a deluge of posts that are just waiting for the judicious application of time, circumstance and perhaps alcohol to bring out onto the pixelated page. Discussions about how people view bicycle commuting vs. biking in the mountains with a 50 lb. pack, about the things that people had told me about aging vs the things I wish people HAD told me about aging, about how I feel that the major decision in any woman's life is to decide whether to be a doormat or a bitch, about how the only books I really like are mysteries, no matter what genre they are presented in, about the delicate art of walking like an arrogant asshole, about how I think that any experience I have that's decades old is probably not relevant any more, etc.
2. The ceiling turned out, in my opinion, to look very well indeed. Have a look.The fireplace is being started this weekend, although in a different brick finish than we had originally imagined. The builder has suddenly remembered that we need a hearth around the fireplace, which excited a bit of email back and forth. All under control, now, though, hopefully. The countertops are also installed, as is the kitchen sink. Pictures will be linked to as they go up.
3. In other, non-house related things, spring may finally sprung enough that I can ride my bicycle to work on Monday. Frankly, the roads have been clear enough these last two weeks, but the place where I chain my bicycle up at work has been completely obscured by snow, and that has been the limiting factor that I've been waiting to see resolved. A late start to biking this year, since in better years I've been on the road at the beginning of March, but one has to bow to the weather gods.
4. I have managed to do a bit of reading in the dreary spring, which was nice. I finally got around to reading Lark Rise to Candleford by Flora Thompson. I'd been meaning to read this since mumble years ago when I first read Little, Big by John Crowley, wherein he had an epigraph taken from one of the books. ("We are bubbles of earth! Bubbles of earth! Bubbles of earth!") It proved a difficult book to get my hands on, but I eventually managed to get a copy from the local library. I was quite touched by the book, as well as finding it intriguing from a historical point of view. I can't imagine it being a very popular book, sadly. Indeed, it made my "list of books that I could choose that my book club would hate" list. That has, over the years, turned into a pretty extensive list. Someday I should make a post on that.
5. Sometimes I feel like I have a deluge of posts that are just waiting for the judicious application of time, circumstance and perhaps alcohol to bring out onto the pixelated page. Discussions about how people view bicycle commuting vs. biking in the mountains with a 50 lb. pack, about the things that people had told me about aging vs the things I wish people HAD told me about aging, about how I feel that the major decision in any woman's life is to decide whether to be a doormat or a bitch, about how the only books I really like are mysteries, no matter what genre they are presented in, about the delicate art of walking like an arrogant asshole, about how I think that any experience I have that's decades old is probably not relevant any more, etc.