LiveJournal plans to start purging inactive accounts in August. I don't know, frankly, if I need to preserve this; for all Scott's insistence that I am a Capital-W-Writer and should do something about it, lately I feel more inclined toward out-loud rambling and ranting than in actual pen-to-paper, fingers-to-keyboard writing. Writing is, frankly, a ( Read more... )

I've had more debilitating papercuts (corner between my thumb and forefinger, under a fingernail, even corner of my mouth) in the past six weeks of working at Penn than I'd had in the six months previous ( Read more... )

Remember that scene in the animated Cinderella when Cinderella has just finished washing the floor and then the cat flounces across it, leaving muddy footprints in his wake?

Yes. That is me, the kitten, and every white surface in my bathroom.

So at about two o'clock on Friday I accepted a job--a great job, a dream job, a hooray-I-get-to-work-in-the-industry-I-want job--at Penn Press. After that I pretty much stopped answering my phone, because I was driving and socializing and eating cherries ( Read more... )

Today I bought two small lavender plants to add to the huge expanse of backyard formerly known as the pool. My car smells delicious.

On muggy mornings, 57 Cardinal Circle still smells like woodsmoke. Victory in our time.

Lately I am having trouble finding books worth finishing. I have now endured three strike-outs in a row, courtesy of the Trumbull Public Library.

On the other hand, of the two books I finished this week, one was by Ruth Reichl and one was a children's book I swiped from Hillcrest and am never returning because it was that wonderful.

Help.

Item: An entire flock of robins spotted outside Dawes House this morning.

I don't really know how the separation is going to work, or how I'll differentiate, but I've made a Paris-centric blog that will, hopefully, detail the adventures of the coming year. (This is in the spirit of Winschel's Weekly, but since I didn't feel like sending emails and liked the idea of having an archive, we're going with a blog instead.) So ( Read more... )

It takes the death of Beverly Sills to bring me out of hermitude. I am terribly, terribly sad at her passing--I have a vague and completely uncalled-for proprietary feeling about her, because I almost used her as my topic for the sophomore year Revolutionary Resurrection project (of course, she wasn't dead then, so it was more possession than ( Read more... )