The Weekend

Today was pretty dark until we got out in the afternoon for mass. Am I sick? Am I depressed? Am I reading too much Graham Greene? 

I worked with the boys on their homework and some chores; Francisco took the boys to the library in the afternoon, where Blaze was thrilled with a Star Wars mask craft. 

A well-used kneeler

After mass, we picked up some tiny ice cream sandwiches (would be four times as big, easily, in the U.S.) and enjoyed the late afternoon in the park. Q played pick up tag with some kids he knew a bit. 

I'm grateful for God's love and the mass and those readings. 

Also--the most ground-breaking scholar in the very niche area in which I'm writing said she'd come to a book workshop for me. Amazing. 

Twitter

Francisco referred to being lead parent, directing the children's movements, running the plays, today as "quarterbacking." I think this is totally apt. For instance, "I'll quarterback if you do the dishes."

Reading

A couple of things from my reading that I wanted to share--cleaning off my desk for the first time in months (it is so lovely at the moment) gave me the impetus, finally. 

I'd wanted to take a look at this book for a while, written or edited, as it was by Anne Haycraft, pen name Allis Thomas Ellis, who wrote the essay collections, Home, and novels, and by Caroline Blackwood, who was one of Robert Lowell's wives (and he was one of her husbands). 

The writing is spirited and silly and delightful--by (I assume) the people submitting recipes and by the co-editors (there wasn't, in my perusal of the book, a method's section). I doubt I'll be cooking from it, but I'm glad I could take a look. The illustrations are just as edgy (or more!) than the writing. It's all fun. 

I like the emphasis on selling your food to your guests, instead of apologizing for it. And I like the sarcasm about how children eat. 

And, while I'm unlikely to cook from it much, I like the general idea that we should look for shortcuts and ways to pretend to be a little fancy for not too much time or money. 

 I also loved my re-read of The End of the Affair. I liked what it said about witnessing--as present in Sarah's honest communication (even hidden and uncovered communication) about her wrestling with God. Even in her sin are the seeds of redemption. Even through her doubt, through her willing herself not to believe, comes grace. Just beautiful. So much hope. I wish it could apply to me, but I'm afraid my [many] sins just chase people right away from Christ. 

Sabbatical, The Red House

After dropping the kids off at school, Francisco and I traipsed across the city to visit William Morris's Red House, built by architect Philip Webb. First we shared coffee and a pistachio croissant.

The house was made for Morris when he was like 25 and it is being restored very slowly, so it's not in its original condition at all--for instance there wouldn't have been Morris wallpapers, which he designed much later. And many of the walls and ceilings that had been painted had been painted over. 

Embroidery for a Morris tapestry, now somewhere else.  

Some cool furniture by Webb--this in dragon blood red. 

Some cool ceilings, hand painted using holes pricked in the plaster as guiding lines. 

Wall mural by Elizabeth Siddal, Dante Gabriel Rossetti's wife. 

Recreation of Morris embroidery. 

Amazing wall mural. 

Above: recreation of the ceiling design. Below--how conservators know what was going on with the ceiling. 

Above: Subsequent owner's guest book was the glass in the panes of a screen. 

Stained glass by Burnes-Jones (middle) and prob Morris. 

The garden was lovely, even in the rain. The national trust properties always have gardens--and cut flowers from the garden in the house. 

Lovely to see flowers being born. 

Worth the wet shoes. 

In the evening, Francisco had nice drinks with a friend at his club. 

By the end of the night I was wiped out. I woke up with the happiness of recovery yesterday morning, but I think I need to pace myself. I feel hungover, not having had any alcohol, obviously, today. This illness is not only rough, but lingering. 

Sabbatical

What a relief--I woke up this morning decidedly improved. Not totally better, but definitely on my way. Hope! I probably won't feel like this forever!

Neighborhood nostalgia

Ditto. I like this place, even though it uses obscene marketing to which I object.

Today involves an adventure with Francisco in the rain--the cause of some (great) stress because I don't have shoes that stay dry in the rain--part of my great sprained-foot shoe problem of 2024. At least my foot allows me now to walk as much as I like. And I will not die from wet feet. 

But yesterday I was still under the weather--I wrote, slept, wrote some more. Graham Green's Ministry of Fear kept me good company. At this juncture, I'm convinced my book will be total crap and should be shipped off immediately to a bottom shelf publisher. Pushing off my chapter draft deadline another week. 

Francisco had a long, happy lunch with a friend. I picked up the kids, took them to the park, became overwhelmed and exhausted, brought them home and went back to bed. Then I woke up to make dinner, which was relatively disgusting (I overcooked the sausages until they were tough and shriveled and the mashed potatoes had not enough butter and salt and pepper)--we'll blame the illness--because making dinner was easier for me than talking to the kids (which Francisco took on). 

Then I made the artichokes. I had fun eating them, and the kids tolerated tasting them as a family activity--we compared the taste of the three different artichokes. The main thing I learned--Deb's Smitten Kitchen dip for artichokes--mayo and lemon juice--is indeed sublime. The only other time I ate fresh artichokes--do you remember Stearns?--was just after our arrival in Madrid at the house of our first cousin once removed, dipped in oil or butter, and it was heavenly. (I also discovered last night that our knives are dull as all get out.)

Oh, I also photographed the fox in the yard. Francisco said it looked exactly like the Fantastic Mr. Fox.

 

Stretching

Looking at me!

Curling up and going to sleep!

Sabbatical

Day 3 of this sickness was the worst so far. I submitted a small application and edited my chapter a bit, but I'm not at all confident about the quality of work that was coming out of this foggy brain. I also took a little nap.

(I bought three kinds of artichokes, but then realized I was too sick to eat them, so I'm going to try to cook them today.)

I got the kids and took them to the park after school. (Francisco was away visiting a lovely garden with enormous rhododendrons and azaleas.) Then he made meatballs from scratch for dinner (Q decided they were plant-based--they were not--and Blaze questioned the parsley: "What are these leaves?" But Blaze loved them and asked for them again asap.) In the evening I forced us to finish The Lavender Hill Mob. My kids are already complaining about watching movies with me? 

I'm still obsessed with our green and am savoring it in every weather--this morning was damp and a little foggy. 

Q has been learning cricket for PE!

The Lord is the source of all wisdom: come, let us adore him, alleluia.