The radio station I’ve settled into listening to (when it’s not NPR and Eye on the Sky weather) up here started, Monday morning, working through their active play list from A to Z. It’s been a fascinating thing so far, dropping into the randomness during the few moments during the day (mostly to and from school, and to and from work) when I listen to the radio. The songs are sorted by title, not artist, and this afternoon the selection segued from Lyle Lovett to Barenaked Ladies to Bruce Cockburn.
In the spirit of randomness, here’s some more.
Wednesday is my usual day off, and as such it’s much more like the way things were back in Virginia when I was freelancing from home. Dropped the kids at their schools, came home, walked the dog, paid some bills, read some blogs, picked up the house a bit, had a conference with Nine’s teacher, picked up a handful of paint chips, stuck my head in the Salvation Army thrift shop next door to the paint place, bought groceries, unloaded the car, walked the dog, went and got the kids at school. What’s not the same is the sense that I’m still more or less invisible. Clerks don’t know me as a regular, I’m still introducing myself to the school receptionist, and it’s hit or miss whether there’s someone I know waiting outside the elementary school at pick up.
Here’s my mason jar full of store bought daffodils.
( Cornflower has some gorgeous double ones up today – go take a look). Normally on a day like today I’d have worked in a wander through the garden, coffee in hand, taking inventory (and probably pictures) of thing emerging (last I heard from my dad, the snowdrops were going strong and the crocuses were on the way). The snow is melting here (it just vanishes – into the soil, to get ready for mud season?) and I did wander through our dripping hemlocks yesterday, mentally editing the woods. No idea at all what might turn up when spring really gets here, but I have the impression from a number of neighbors that this has never been a gardener’s house.
Two holds came in from the library yesterday, Rachel Cusk’s Arlington Park (which I’ll talk about later) and this:
Would you pay $200 for this book? How about $800? June Hemmons Hiatt’s The Principles of Knitting is one of the top ten most requested out-of-print books in this country – spend a bit of time with a search engine and the title and/or her name, and you can get yourself a nice case of sticker shock, be led to bemoan the influence of international internet markets on your chances of ever stumbling on this book second hand at a reasonable price, regret that the author couldn’t be cashing in on the demand, and find out that the publisher seems set to reprint within the next year or two. In other words, A perfect review of Economics 101. The book itself? Principia pretty much covers it. (And once again: I love my public library.)
We’ve been listening, at bedtime, to Tim Curry read his way through Lemony Snickett’s Series of Unfortunate Events. Esme Squalor (who’s obsessed with what’s “In”) is very much a presence at the point where we are in the saga, and keeps making me think about how and why pronouncements like “Knitting is In” or “Knitting is Out” or “Blogging is Hot” or “Blogging is Fading” are made, and who makes them. (Econ 101 is relevant here again, of course.) This may be related to why I’m so happy that Stephanie Pearl-McPhee’s new book is out any minute, and why it’s great news that Eunny Jang is the new editor at Interweave Knits.
Still here? Let’s toss a contest into the mix. Identify the titles of the three songs I listed way back up at the top. I’ll pick a random winner from the folks who have left a comment by noon (eastern time) on Saturday, March 17th with the correct song titles in it. The prize? Something, um, random. (And while you're here, please feel free to join the conversation. Thanks!)