Skip to main content

Aprons

I bought some things from Vermont Trading Co. last night: popcorn plisse bedspread and shams with satin champagne ruffle, a Betty Crocker meals for two cookbook and a cobblerette apron.

I realized yesterday that I have a lot of aprons: two made by me, one made by mother and one made by great-grandmother, one from Cafe de France (belongs to Nathan) and the cobblerette coming in. I have plans to display all of them. I also realized that I know more about aprons, and refect on aprons, probably more than the average human.

Country Style advocates one "finding" oneself collecting things. Can it be that I am an apron connoisseur?

I have been forming what I call my transitory schedule. I am entering a bridge of time to reflect and reconnect with my true desires.

However, I intend most of this time to be spent organizing our home to its optimum, ridding our closets of all that is unnecessary to our existence, selling many things, and creating new systems to filter incoming items. Even if we don't stay here for long, my system will move with us, and we will have a great deal less to move.

I don't think that my writing will constitute more of my life than it does already. I will continue to make my writing hour: the luxury of which will be elasticity. No longer will I have to tear myself away.

I am watching State Fair right now and love it. The dresses are dreamy, possibly even more to my taste than Babes in Toyland, since more subdued. I have a special love for almost every era, in particular: the '10's, '20's, '40's, '50's, '70's, '90's. The '30's I don't like much.

Popular posts from this blog

New place

This is the second lunch I've passed in this downtown Barnes and Noble. I like this place. If I worked here I would undoubtedly come here for lunch. It is going to be hard forfeiting the hour and fifteen lunches, but normal life is less stressful than this. I am not cut out for city living. I still had driving troubles today. These one way streets are so difficult. I don't understand parking, and I like finding locations that I "cain't miss" from the road. Everything is so densely packed. Everyone else seems to have walked somewhere, but I celebrate lunchtime as the time to get as far away from the work as possble with as much comfort as possible, and Subway, I'm sorry, is not comfortable. Last night I slept from 7 p.m. to 5 a.m. when I had to call in. I have slept so much lately, but I feel in such a muddle. My head is pounding. If I were home I don't think I could put myself together enough to do any of my things. I really long to do things, too. Writing...

Gervaise

1789 Gervaise was the first one to enter Delphinia's bedchamber. Golden light spread through a crack in the white curtains, throwing a lacey pattern onto the silk-shrouded bed. Delphinia lay in the finest guest bedchamber in the castle. It had been converted from the room of the dowager Markgrafin upon her death. Though Gervaise's entrance was not quiet, there was no stirring in the midst of the great bed. Gently Gervaise laid down the tray of chocolate and great cinnamon rolls and approached the bed, pushing aside the curtain to view the prone figure there. Delphinia lay in a contorted state, her limbs drawn up against her protectively, looking like a frightened child, though she was in the depths of sleep. Her hair, dark-colored, the finer strands gilded and curling around her face and brow, was mangled, freed from its pins without a combing. She wore a loose white shift, no nightgown. Gervaise was not offended by disorder or carelessness, but Delphinia's disarray gave he...