Monthly Archives: August 2011

L’il Red Riding Hood

I still haven’t seen Amanda Seyfried’s Little Red Riding Hood movie, but I have heard this song, and it has been in my head on a loop for days, so here you go.  It’s spectacular.


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Silly kind of love

Backstory: H used to make a little hoo noise anytime water was too hot in the shower.  I’d be in the other room or brushing my teeth or whatever and hear “hoo!” from behind the curtain.  I made the mistake of telling him I loved the “hoo” and immediately stopped hearing it forever more.

I was getting ready in the bathroom mirror this morning.  He said from behind the shower curtain,

H: This shower is always the wrong temperature.

Me: What’s wrong with it?

H: It’s too hot.

Me: Huh, that’s weird.  I’ve never heard you say anything before, but I guess you don’t “hoo” anymore.

H: How do you know?  You aren’t in here.

Me: Oh, I’d hear a “hoo.”

H: Okay Horton.


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Bibliophilia: July

The summertime insanity has kept right on going, as evidence by my poor ability to read books in June, and now in July.  I finished A Tale of Two Cities, but that is all.

Mini Reviews: 

A Tale of Two Cities is a story about the French Revolution and what it means on many levels, personal, social, and political.  I know that Dickens sympathizes with the poor, but I found that A Tale of Two Cities was compelling and different than other works of his, because he does not support the mob mentality and brutality that accompanies it.  He reproaches the people who needlessly take the lives of others.  Overall, I didn’t like it at well as Great Expectations, but did enjoy it.
Queued Up: I’m in the middle of The Metamorphoses of Ovid, and The Fountainhead, and anticipate being in the middle of them forever, or next month until August.
Total: 54/1294

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The Idiosyncratic Mourner

My grandmother passed away suddenly at the end of February. It has been a hard several months for my mom, me, and all of our family, getting over the shock, moving my grandfather into a nursing home, and prepping the house for an estate sale. I went in July to help my family with more organization in the house. My aunt and mother weren’t able to clean her bureau. They’ve just been unable to do it, because it screamed her name so loudly. I was given the task of going through her hair spray, perfume, and a lot of the things that made her so much herself.

In the process, I found a tube of lip stick that belonged to her, half used, and a bottle of perfume that smelled so much like her that I could hardly bear it. I put the lip stick on, because why not. Who doesn’t wear their dead grandmother’s lipstick? (See, I told you this was idiosyncratic.) I kept it. I was able to throw the other perfumes away, but the one that smelled so much of her, Spellbound, couldn’t go. I cried and told my mom that someone has to keep it, but that I can’t do it. It was pitiful. I put it on the dresser and prepared to go, as my husband and I were on our way back home, which is an eight hour drive from the house. Finally I decided to take it home with me, clutching it in my fist as we left that day.

It’s now in my stuff drawer. It’s a drawer in my house with head bands, nail polish, a few bottles of perfume and other beauty stuff that I don’t use every day. I’ve had it for a few weeks and smelled it twice. Both times I have been almost bowled over with memories and missing her. I can’t see her little face anymore. I can’t hug her or hold her beautiful, little, arthritic hand, but I can smell that perfume and remember her. I loved my Grandma, very much.

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