enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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Basilic

Really, not much is happening.

I've been eating raspberries and strawberries all day today...and am hoping for bodily co-operation, if you know what I mean.

(I bought a half flat each of raspberries and strawberries, in a bid to enjoy this stuff while it is still local, fresh and available.)

Otherwise, C's move went well. He had hired two movers, so they moved the majority of the stuff and then when I arrived I was able to assist in rearranging the furniture. I think it's a lovely, bright apartment; I'm so glad that he has it. And I think I've finally converted C. to my love of quirky and charming rather than modern and square...so my work is done!!!

I bought $100 worth of books in lieu of a dress yesterday afternoon and it FELT SO GOOD. Gosh I love books.

When I was in grad school I used to take the elevator from the 3rd floor economics section up to the philosphy, art history and architecture, Canadian history, and literature floors. Sometimes when no one was looking I would just run my fingers along the bindings of the books.

(As a trained librarian aware of the acid problem in libraries I suppose I should now be more sensitive, although I still love to do this.)

I must absolutely have written about this before; I'm so forgetful.

But libraries have always been an oasis for me. When I was 13 and my dad was ill and I was sent to live with my grandparents in a small town it was the library to which I roamed after school (that and the quay to watch the fishermen come in). I used to sit on the floor between the rows of books and sprawl out reading passages of rows of books selected.

I still do that, even when in a skirt in heels. I just get so excited when I find things old or unopened or peculiar or lyrical, or well-traveled by distant eyes and fingers.

I think that life should be a story hour.

Someone mocked me the other day when I said that I thought that parents should even read to teenagers.

A girl who recently dumped on C big-time and for whom in general I as a result have little respect told me that her professor parents used to read to the whole family well into her teens. This I liked.

I used to love it when my mother read to me. But she stopped too early. If I have one major complaint about my mother when I was growing up it is that in spite of her generally kind nature she was always impatient. She always had something to hurry to.

I think that this is in part why I rarely hurry. In fact, I'm sure that this is why I loathe rushes and pressure to move on. I like to savour. Which is fine. As is hurrying, I suppose...if that is your way.

Ah, life. We're all different.

I also bought the most fabulous set of Nina Simon3 cds yesterday as well. And they were in a sale bin. I bought the set specifically for the 1961 version of "For all we know." On Y-T, here. Exquisite. And I can never get enough of the Bach theme of which she was so fond. It there is anything in life that gets my pulse racing and makes my soul feel like it is soaring it is without question by Bach.Well, or Schubert. :)

I also bought the most GIGANTIC mounds of basil yesterday and so before they wilt I am going to rock some pesto in my Hello Kitty! apron. :)

And then I'm goign to head over to C's cheery apartment with some---get this--PEACH COBBLER to watch Schultz3 gets the Blu3s and Emm@. How's that for a divine evening?

Cheerio!

7:14 p.m. - 2007-09-02

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