My Seattle trip is over. I now have a week before I leave again. Well, a week and 2 days.
Whatever. We do what we do.
Anyway, not much happening. I got a new pedicure today, because I banged my big toe on someone's roller bag and broke a toenail. So now I'm wearing OPI's "Red My Fortune Cookie".
And the Olympics are on. We watched a little Women's Field Hockey this morning. Possibly the most painful sport to watch, ever.
I was thinking today about a passage in Little Women as I was cooking dinner. My uncle sent an e mail to me, my mother and my sister thanking us for coming to the wedding, and each of us got an individual line that was directed at each of us.
And it reminded me of the passage in Little Women where they're sitting around just after Christmas Dinner. Father March has just come home from the war, or, more accurately, he's come from a hospital recovering from pneumonia he caught while off at war - where, to be accurate, he was a minister. A preacher, not a fighter. Anyway, he's going around the table praising each of his daughters for something - basically, how they have matured in his absence. Amy is less selfish. Meg got her hands dirty. Jo is less masculine and Beth is... alive. Poor Beth. Such a low bar.
But the girls are all eager to hear what their father thinks of them, and they hope it's something good. We know that Jo is pleased, we know that Amy is. Meg has just realized she's in love with John Brooke, so she's happy, but whatever - her hands are no longer white and pretty. Beth is pretty much happy until she realizes she's dying. And that's not for another several years, so she's happy to be with her family.
Anyway, that's what the format of the e mail reminded me of.
Right now, dinner is in the pressure cooker, and we'll eat and chill out.
Tomorrow, I guess laundry and groceries. That's how we do.
ae
ae
Whatever. We do what we do.
Anyway, not much happening. I got a new pedicure today, because I banged my big toe on someone's roller bag and broke a toenail. So now I'm wearing OPI's "Red My Fortune Cookie".
And the Olympics are on. We watched a little Women's Field Hockey this morning. Possibly the most painful sport to watch, ever.
I was thinking today about a passage in Little Women as I was cooking dinner. My uncle sent an e mail to me, my mother and my sister thanking us for coming to the wedding, and each of us got an individual line that was directed at each of us.
And it reminded me of the passage in Little Women where they're sitting around just after Christmas Dinner. Father March has just come home from the war, or, more accurately, he's come from a hospital recovering from pneumonia he caught while off at war - where, to be accurate, he was a minister. A preacher, not a fighter. Anyway, he's going around the table praising each of his daughters for something - basically, how they have matured in his absence. Amy is less selfish. Meg got her hands dirty. Jo is less masculine and Beth is... alive. Poor Beth. Such a low bar.
But the girls are all eager to hear what their father thinks of them, and they hope it's something good. We know that Jo is pleased, we know that Amy is. Meg has just realized she's in love with John Brooke, so she's happy, but whatever - her hands are no longer white and pretty. Beth is pretty much happy until she realizes she's dying. And that's not for another several years, so she's happy to be with her family.
Anyway, that's what the format of the e mail reminded me of.
Right now, dinner is in the pressure cooker, and we'll eat and chill out.
Tomorrow, I guess laundry and groceries. That's how we do.
ae
ae
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