The "To-Do List"

My dear sillies... I never said I would do everything on that list! Those are just some cures for sentimentality. Your comments much amused me, but obviously I have not been clear. In order to allay concerns, therefore, hear what I have and have not done.

-- I have not continued to read Mark Twain's stories. Instead, I started a blog with my nine-year-old student from CA, and am enjoying her delight in posting. Much more satisfying than Twain.
-- I have stopped memorizing poetry (for now). My respects to Auden, but he left a bad taste in my mouth.
-- I probably won't wear a scarf in my hair again for awhile, but that's just because it isn't a style I use much.
-- I haven't bought a set of severe hair clips yet. I'll let you know before I do, so that you can all remonstrate (if you really feel it necessary to do so).
-- I typed "Pre-Raphaelite art" into my Google toolbar, and then thought better of it. I have been thinking about the stuff.
-- The weather has been rainy. No gardening until at least this weekend.
-- My parents and Casey just got back from Westport. How can I not daydream?
-- I did prosaic things. I vaccuumed and dusted my room, and I've been thinking about menus. It hasn't particularly helped yet, but there is still nothing like hard work for melancholy, so... perhaps it will have an effect soon.
-- I have not painted my study. But it needs to happen, and it will. Later.
-- I have not studied flora. Flora is in hiding because of all the rain, and when she isn't actually beaming at me out of her wide eyes, I forget to study her. She intends for me to forget, so I won't feel guilty about it.
-- I am still going barefoot everywhere and at every opportunity. Nothing to report, except that the ferret bit my foot this morning. I have not got poison ivy.
-- I have successfully resisted the urge to dance in the rain.
-- I have not painted my nails. Charity is threatening a pedicure.
-- I have not baked bread, or cut flowers, or stencilled my walls. I have bought bread, smelled flowers, and looked at wall stencils online instead. Very unsatisfying. I think I'll go for the real thing soon.
-- I have not practiced my wood flute, seriously or otherwise.

I have seen a new movie (recommended to me by the High Queen), a four-hour cross between Pride and Prejudice and Dickens. The word "wow" leaps to mind. Sensitive, strong work. In fact, I would put Elizabeth Gaskell (the author) about five degrees below Austen (on a scale of one hundred) for skill in novel-writing.
I have written a long post, very sad, which was so intense that I decided not to put it up (or rather, I posted it at midnight last night and then took it off). You would all have been worried about me, and I didn't want that.
I have played with Sam.
I have engaged in a merry war with Elijah. It was occasioned in the first place by my stupidity: I let it be known in Elijah's hearing that it is hard for me to accept compliments. Add sixteen-year-old boy and stir. The rules are simple. He leaves a sign taped to the back of my chair whenever I'm not paying attention, which reads "Christy is amazing!!!!" I, when I notice it, trot across the warehouse and remonstrate with him. "Really, Elijah," I say. "Tut." And then I leave one on the back of his chair when he's not looking (thoughtfully provided for me by Abbi, who wrote "Elijah really rocks!" on a slip of paper and handed it to me at the crucial moment). Note to censors, critics, and concerned feminists: Elijah is about seven years younger than I, so this interoffice skirmishing should not be construed as flirtation. "Strategic warfare" would be a more fitting epithet. Ah, well. We're only young once. No, wait, that's a silly thing to say. I personally intend to be playing pranks when I'm forty! But I admire his audacity, and am only waiting for the appropriate moment to spring something really devious on him. Something involving jello, perhaps....?

Supper calls.