Jonesing for the Country

I just finished Josh Kilmer Purcell's witty book, The Bucolic Plague, and since then I've had the craving for a country house.  The work load he describes does not make me long to actually be a farmer however.  So today, despite some whining, moaning and general obstinacy, Mark & I insisted on a FUN FAMILY farm trip.  We're holding off on our annual apple picking until we're a bit closer to Halloween so it was off to my favorite meticulously clean and organized farm, Stone Barns.

I couldn't decide if this shot was about the grass and the sheep:

or the sky.

You know the ending.  Everyone had a good time in spite of themselves. It just warms me to see Jack on the grass calling to the chickens instead of on his belly watching a tv show.

 Good ideas for a beautiful fall garden.  If only.

Max forgot his sweater, so I lent him mine.  We called him Granny.

There was an odd toilet though, sadly not pictured.  You dropped a pile of wood shavings on top of your business and then closed the lid.  When I opened the lid, it was filled to the brim with clean looking, non-smelly shavings.  Quite a shock, and sort of a revelation.  It was like peeing in a hamster cage.  Sorry, TMI, I know.

Voracious. My reading choices.

I keep a side bar of the books I've read all year as a way of keeping track for myself. I read rather voraciously, and as you can tell, my selections are all over the place.  My friends and I often trade book recommendations and I tend to forget all but the last two or three, so the list helps.

I got my Kindle last Christmas and I read now more than ever. I love having a book at my fingertips at all times with the option to impulse buy to my heart's content.

Hence, this entry.  I just had to laugh at myself.

I read two really heavy books on Auschwitz recently (Mark asked if there was any other kind) and I needed something frothy to follow up.  I went with I'm with the Band by Pamela Des Barres, the self-proclaimed world's most famous groupie which led right into Wonderful Tonight: George Harrison, Eric Clapton and Me by Pattie Boyd.  Pamela Des Barres wins for biggest hippie and Pattie Boyd for most lonesome, though she does remind us constantly that three of the world's greatest love songs were written for her.

If you look at it, I have quite a few celebrity memoirs over there, which is my Kindle's fault.  They're generally like long people magazine articles and at the end, the Kindle gives you a few more recommendations.  A few clicks later and Rob Lowe has made way for Rosie O'Donnell.  It's a slippery slope.

What are you reading these days?  Do you read celebrity memoirs?

On the town. A poem, for my friends.

Last Saturday we went to a goth Mexican restaurant
With friends we really like. Helen & Ron.
We do double-dinner-and-a-movie dates.

Anyway, the waiter caressed Helen's shoulder as he walked by.
She was blushing.
I don't think that's happened to me.
At least, not in a really long time.

 Today's pictures are just my last gasp of summer.  Now, as my friend Jane said, it's one for the books.

Yes, I blog. And, you can see us vacationing. [I promise not to do this daily]

Well, that was interesting.

Mark outed me.

I've had this blog for several years now, but I really don't tell anyone about it in my face-to-face life.  I'm kind of shy about my creative output. Always have been. Probably why I take lessons instead of putting up a shingle.  My creative stuff always seemed a combination of sacred -- I don't want to take anything away from the joy I get from making things -- and in a way, frivolous.  I've heard people say they fear that everyone will think he or she's a fraud, applied to all sorts of things, even their relationships.  For me, I can feel that way about my work.  I'm trying to get past it though, because the grass really is so much greener.

Anyway, what I intended to talk about was France.  We were there for one day in early August.  Seems like a lifetime ago.  We took a boat, a train, a bus and then walked to get to a nice restaurant and have some pizza. Then, we did it all in reverse and spent a few hours on the beach.  I was crying on the inside because one afternoon is not enough, however, I put on my game face and made the most of it.

Oh, in case you wondered, same thing applies to wearing a Lands End tankini on the beach in Villafranche, France.  Yeah, you feel like you're wearing a track suit. 

Other lessons we learned about kids and European travel:
1- When in doubt, find a beach
2 - Pizza, bread and butter -- kids consider this a great meal.  Oh, but forget about getting butter in Italy.  They look at you like you asked for vegemite.
3 - A soda a day can go a long way.  Collecting the cans makes cheap souvenirs, though you go home with a suitcase full of recycling.  Especially painful if your airline charges $75 extra baggage fees.
4 - Kids love money.  Let them look at the coins, marvel at the cost of things, do the exchange rates.
5- 11 year-old boys did not seem to notice the topless girls.  Hmmm... I think they might regret that.
Mark to Max:  "This must be a very poor country."
Max: "Huh?"
Mark: "Because the girls can only afford the bottoms of their bathing suits."
6- I think we need more naked man statues in the U.S.  Might lighten everyone up a little.