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by Sixer

Milk Tea


A few days ago an influx of water turned my smooth, green, mirror like lake surface into an unsettling pale and creamy puddle. It has been almost a week and the turbidity, the opaqueness of the pond, has only just now started to improve, tinging the pond green.

 

I’ve just read Fathers and Sons, which is a curious Russian novel from the late 19th century. It reads a little like an English novel from the early 20th century, so the Russians can certainly congratulate themselves on being progressive. It has lovely, quotable lines, and a barely disguised didactic nature which puts me immediately at home. The whole thing is doomed to tragedy from the start{{1}}[[1]]It helps when you’ve skimmed its wiki entry[[1]], and yet, the characters all have, underneath it all, such a foundation of wholesome love that I can’t help feeling the survivors will do very well indeed. Against all common sense I trusted this author by page 30.

 

This is TBR number 7 for me, since whilst reading the Magellan bibliography I remembered Oppenhiem’s Fortunate Wayfarer, half-finished on a previous encounter, and gobbled it up in a night. So I only need sixteen more books to finish the challenge. I am combing my shelves for thin works.

 

In between reading I have been tracing. My mother acquired some Swedish tracing paper, which she carelessly allowed me to pinch, and I have been tracing Rosalie stockings and Gertie’s Wiggle dress. It is lovely stuff, the tracing paper, pushing me on towards such daring things as grading between sizes and “drafting” a new neckline.  I’m afraid I didn’t pay proper attention to where I was grading, and likely the waist on the front will be higher that the waist on the back, but it is so hard to tell since, of course, the pieces are flat and the finished object won’t be.

As predicted my weekends have been busy, and the ones I’ve had free have been spent in that desperate, headlong way that shows a true lack of foresight. I am looking forward to this coming weekend’s activities, though, and even more to seeing myself continue to grow a little wiser each day.

Potato Plant, second growth this year.

Hello There

 

by Sixer

Pause: A Moment of Vastness

Dear Blog,

The moment is vast.

I love that phrase. It was in a book I read once, The Seer and the Sword, and bequeathes, it seems, a slowness and a depth to every second. When I remember it, that is. Which is usually in times, like now, when I feel that the moment is indeed vast. My new roommate just moved in this morning and the moment is vast. I’m going to call her Bretta, in the hopes that naming her here will make her an actual character in the story of my life. She’s darting out to return for good tomorrow so I am alone in the stillness of the day with the options of netflix, crunchyroll, Shakespeare, or really whatever I want. The moment is vast and the possibilities are endless.

July has been so unexpected, and this last week especially so higgledy-piggledy and topsy-turvy, that I almost don’t know what to do with a few seconds of actual rest and not mere respite. You know, honest-to-goodness enjoyment and not just running from your problems or slowing yourself down in preperation for bed. I cleaned out my front closet yesterday and derived actual enjoyment from it. That good, squeaky feeling of satisfaction and “Oh my, do I really have that many pairs of shoes?” I reorganized where I kept my mugs and teas this morning and derived actual enjoyment from it. Really, the way I had things before was illogical and I don’t know what I was thinking when I set it up. I’m writing this while seeing if the internet will be kind to me and load my video with sound, and all the while I am feeling quite content and not at all stressed or impatient. This, I understand, is a pause, and pauses are to be cherished, not clung to. They are after all only the in-betweens.This post is itself a kind of in-between. I have three, yes three, drafts somewhere on my computer for you. My reviews for the book about Kabbalism, for a collection of Shaw’s plays, and a general write up of Booxter – the database I use for recording my library. These posts have all required too much clear thought to be edited in the midst of July but should find nicer waters in August. I’m reading Shakespeare’s histories now, and hope to start on something rather different – essays maybe, or a biography – in a week or two.

And shopping. I’m going grocery shopping tomorrow and should be cooking up a storm for the next week while I lay in stores.

But for now I am sitting in my air conditioned house drinking milk tea and finding that, for this second – this one small space in the infinity of time – the moment is vast.

Back dated for the preservation of the space-time- continuum
by Sixer

Impractical Work

 

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Wednesday I got off work mid-day and came home, happy and content and dreaming of the sewing project I was planning on finishing. As I turned up my walk and passed the tall, raised bed at the corner, I let my finger trace the brown branches of my fragrant monster-shrub, bare but for the downy remains of empty seed pods. I had pruned the plants a lot last fall, but had not had the heart to rip them out completely and leave my beds stark naked all winter. So they had stayed. But today was so warm, and the sky so clear and bursting with joy – why not clear them away now and be part of the world’s awakening? And it wasn’t to early too plant just a few things, right?

So I did a little gardening yesterday, taking a more careful stock of what plants survived and what didn’t. There are little patches of rubbery German chamomile – stubbornly green. Some of my mint has kept it’s leaves, and there are even glimpses of its purple stem amidst the brown cascade. I thought this scruffy green stuff was nigella last October, but it hasn’t died or gotten taller since then.

 

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Most likely it is just a weed, but for now it adds color so it gets to stay. My blueberry bushes seemed to have survived fine. The top hat is positively greenish, but the Jelly bean has some sinisterly gray branches which speak of neglectful, slap-dash gardeners. I can’t wait ’til they start putting on leaves so I know how well they fared.

Because I am impatient, I scattered arugala, parsley, borage, cress, and coriander seeds in my herb box. I realize it’s the first week of February and I have another month to go before it makes sense to start sowing these, but there was something in the air, as if spring was shouting from the distance “I’m coimng, I’m coming!”

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Come quickly Spring, I have more seed packets waiting in the wings.

by Sixer

Happy, Happy Day!

“Even a muggle such as yourself should be rejoicing on this happy, happy day.”

J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter, Book 1

 

Dear Sister,
You are always bugging me to post, so, since the box containing your birthday present (and that of another) is still sitting in my room, untapped and unlabeled, let this post be your official birthday present.
There is some debate about what would make a good birthday post, some say pretty pictures, preferably old. I can’t see me pulling that off, this is not exactly a personal blog. Luckily for me I can just follow the golden rule of birthdays, which is “always have food.” In other words, here is your Birthday E-Feast Via Blog!
BiBinBa – This is a Korean dish, and very good. I got it at the Fugi Grand food court this Monday. There are various toppings you can pick but, following Mrs. Purewell’s lead, I chose cheese. It’s served in this huge pot of a bowl, and you are given an egg to crack into it. Don’t worry, the rice is so hot that the egg scrambles when you mix everything together. It’s slightly spicy and oh so good!

Seven Eleven – Yes, the local seven eleven. Right across from the church, so I can run over and get my self a lunch. From Right to Left: Rolled Sushi with Nattou (the only inherently nasty food I’ve had yet), Melon Pan, and a Chicken Pasta Salad (the chicken is on top with the salad and the salad dressing. Some assembly required). I’ve had all of these before, though at different places. In fact, I’ve had melon bread twice. They serve it every where, even at McDonalds.

Mabodofu – Here’s what I had for lunch this Thursday. I had no idea what is was, but I bravely took it to the front counter anyway, just for you. Usually the cashier asks me if I want hashi, but this time they asked me something else. Needless to say I was thrown off. Eventually they found some way of communicating the simple question “shall I heat it up for you?” and I was able to stutter out an “onegashimasu.” Then, once it was all nice and hot, and tucked into the bag with a spork, I asked the lady what it was called. “Mobarohu,” she said. Or so I thought. But when I got back “home” and looked it up I found my hearing was a little off. Mabodofu it is then, and it’s good. Though a little greasy, as though the hamburger meat wasn’t drained properly. I think I’ve had something similar at the Toothy’s, only without the tofu and with way more veggies. Yum!

There you go, your birthday feast. And for dessert why not forgo the usual cake and have some kakigouri, blue Hawaiian is my favorite. Make sure they drizzle it with plenty of condensed milk! (or put ice cream on top and call it a “cream frappe”).

Love,
Little “B”