I am nearly done with Mistress Anne now, and I am constantly fascinated with what I see as generational differences between the characters, as well as a separation in the present generation. This book was published in 1917. The generation coming-of-age at this time is Nomadic. I see some really interesting parallels between this and Generation X.

For one thing the materialistic types are dominant, cities are in, country, romance and ideals are out. So Anne and Richard are more the outcasts, the doubters of what you could call the fading, falling regime of wealth and materialism. In addition there are are Geoffrey and Marie-Louise, who could have been interviewed in the latest Gothic Beauty for all their similarity to those ideals. Geoffrey is intensely gloomy, and Marie-Louise is expressive and creative, but very dark as well, somewhat of a flapper. (Did you know flappers used to carry dolls around with them? Especially to parties.) I have been thinking a lot about the Gothic movement, which as I define it consists entirely of Gen-Xers. I have been interested in how people become so gothic in the 80's with no evidence of that subculture before. If history repeats itself, surely that kind of culture existed once before, and I am looking for it in other saecular autumns. So I am wondering if I see it in Mistress Anne, or if I am reading too much.

I have thought a great deal lately about fairy tales. I even looked at my Faberge brides and decided to make each one of them into my heroines. Snow White, Cinderella, and Beauty. Lately they have each seemed to me so different. I have written a great deal of Snow White, wanting to understand her. It is important to understand her, because she is a part of womanhood, but now I want to forget her. Snow White's fate is unhappy. One day she too will look into a mirror. It has always been very clear to me in the story.

Thursday night I looked at my Beauty and the Beast story. My mom gave it to me, and it is so beautiful. I realized how different Beauty was from Snow White. She did not toil, after a time, but lived in sumptuous comfort. However she had to change her mind about what was real beauty, and recognize love.

Tentative-

Mon, Tues- writing/editing
Wed- sewing day
Thurs- web
Fri- nothing planned

Angelspit-That was freaky.
Deine Lakien - I love this
Lacrimas Profundere - maybe good.
De/Vision- I think he's also Wolfsheim
Tearwave- I've wanted them a while.
Otep- the point is to like what I like, and I like that, but probably won't listen often.

Deine Lakien was wonderful, Tearwave too. New music to look up.

The world is a cruel place that teaches you to be strong. Where does the cruel place end, and the people learning to be strong begin?

Why does it take me an hour to do one thing?

I didn't cross a single item from my to-do list, and in nine minutes I have to go home to make beef pie.

Speaking of perfectionism, I have spent eight years perfecting this recipe.

Amanda's Beef Pie

• One pound of organic ground beef
• Nilla wafer pie crust
• Cheddar slices
• Beef broth (I use the kind from a box that pours)

Preheat oven according to your pie crust directions. Brown ground beef in a pan, scoop into pie crust with a slotted spoon, draining fat. Don't pre-cook the pie crust. It gets too brown at the edges. Pour beef broth over the ground beef, enough to moisten it thoroughly, not drown. Spread cheddar slices over the top of the pie. Bake for around fifteen minutes, until the pie crust is brown and cheese is melted. It's much better on the reheat, nice and solid.

Things I want to do in my life

• Become a web designer
• Publish my writing
• Become a seamstress
• Learn to play the erhu

Only four things? I guess so. But to me, those four things are so hard. They require a lot of energy and discipline, especially after a day of work. If I have any new year's resolution it will be to resolve that somehow.

I was so anxious about work today. I didn't know how I was going to titrate my sample. I did it! I only had to ask for help four times. I did 97% of it all by myself. My sample was just exactly the same number as the time zero. Wow. I can't believe I care. I've really got to do something.

This will have to be written on breaks. I've just finished my oatmeal and only have five minutes to write.

I want to change my life, and I feel like my major inspiration is the journal of someone with whom I have nothing in common (?) except enthusiasm and desire. I realized today I have been following her journal for three years now, learning about the art world, creativity. I feel like I have been looking at it through a window for so long, just standing in front of the window, watching, and only now with the dawning realization that I want to look for the door inside.

I don't know how to do what I want to do, and I have so many different things I want to do, I don't know how I will do any of them. All I know is that when I come home, I am so tired. I want to think about this more deeply, prioritize, visualize. I feel like the answer is there. Like the parameters I spent the last couple of days fiddling with. It's in there somewhere. I just have to keep looking.

Well, that's all, and that's in one sitting. I don't know how to do what I have to do today, and I have so many other things, too.

Next I'm going to list out all the things I want to do, and put them in priority.

"and when the incomparable Booth and Jefferson had held audiences spellbound at Ford's and at Albaugh's..."

Ford's Theatre, Baltimore MD. The theatre where Lincoln was assassinated?

Booth, an actor, John Wilkes Booth?

After my rushed and crude day I came needing repair, not believing. I would not have known ten minutes later my novel would make me blush. A novel has never made me blush. I have read some torrid novels, never blushed.

But this Temple Bailey novel is so kind-hearted. It is a novel in which gentlemen declare their intentions.

This chapter has some interesting references. One is the mention of drug abuse. I was really surprised. I didn't know the word was around then to describe controlled substances, but from what I can tell of the context it means mood-altering substance abused.

The other is Tabasco sauce. Beulah asks the others at dinner if it seems particularly hot?

I wish I could copy/paste things. I want to find an eBook reader that will let me do that.

So I will describe the scene as best as I can.

Geoffrey is a writer at a boarding-house and Anne is a school teacher at the same boarding-house. She has bought some silk she is making into a dress, and he reads her chapters of his book every night while she sews. With the book's advance he has bought her pearls for the ball to make her costume complete (she is recreating her grandmother's portrait gown), and declares his love. She is shocked (dumb) and rejects them (wrong) because her mommy's boy's mother gave her pearls that some day HE will give to his bride. Never mind that Geoffrey bought her pearls with his own poor writer's earnings, and Richard (mommy's boy) knows nothing about any of it. She wants to wear the pearls Richard's mother gave her. Sigh. I don't know if my blush was for the declaration of love or for horror. I think both. Unfortunately I read ahead and know she ends up with mommy's boy in the end, and Geoffrey gets paired off with someone in a very unconvincing scene.

Well, I know the Victorians felt getting along with the MIL was preeminent. Also, Geoffrey's behavior is subtly unacceptable. He has tried to buy Anne and Beulah wine at dinner (the author avoided even mentioning the word), also he's spending every evening with her in her room, at his initiative. It's really interesting the way the author introduces these subtle breaches in conduct. I would never have the self-control to force my characters to obey such a rigid social code, or face the consequences.

Does this post even make sense anymore? I better just go buy my ivory twill.

Sitting on the wrappings.

 
Immediately sat on my new-made tree skirt.

Labels: Christmas

I already wrote a narrative about our staying on my Dad's property, but here are the pictures to go with it.

These were taken mid-afternoon. It was already starting to get dark.

Labels: Christmas

We took out our birds while we were waiting for the sun to rise.

I put Jonah on the gardenia, which is spending the winter inside.

On Christmas morning, we woke up around six in the morning and built a fire.

 

I set the table in red placemats and runner that we received as a wedding gift. The three boots belonged to my grandparents. I don't know why there are only three, but my guess is there is one for each of their three children.

My Christmas bouquet from Nathan. I still have it here at the table, and it is still beautiful.

My Christmas roast was too large for my crock pot. I was very upset and tied some plastic over the pot until the roast thawed enough for me to push it down and put the lid on.

It was good, really good. Dinner time was some twelve hours later, and I forgot to take a picture of the finished roast.

Later that day I finished the tree skirt I had started on Christmas Eve (obviously I intended to sew this some weeks before :/ ).

 
(That means I will have to leave up the tree for another month so we can look at it.)

Labels: Christmas, food, sewing