Darling, you're right, I should ask the head librarian if she might consider ordering the book. I had toyed with the idea before but felt that the subject was possibly a bit esoteric for a general public library system. Also, my motives are so mixed & personal though of course people have all sorts of reasons for wishing to read a particular book. Yes, I'm interested in the subject matter, now that that plate of fresh chopped magnificent CSA romaine has been set before me. But what really makes me wish to devour it is the caesar dressing liberally tossed of "my first lover wrote it!" topped with crunchy croutons of "plus he thanks me in his acknowledgments!" I have a tendency to blurt out such details, which won't, I don't believe, nice as she is, impress a librarian to part with scarce acquisition funds. Should I find myself tempted to divulge the extraneous, perhaps I could publicly refer to the wildly memorable author more decorously as 'my first boyfriend.' But you're right, why not put in the request - and let the professional make the call. I will float the suggestion next time I'm there.
Do you suppose I'm writing a novel bit by bit? It feels that way to me sometimes, but it's the story of life, and I have no idea how it's going to turn out. A fictional narrative is entirely beyond me, the uncertainty of my own situation, trying to write myself out of it, challenge enough - resulting in the virtual pageturner, Dear Reader, before you.
By this time you may be wandering downstairs and peeking in the fridge or at the stove and wondering - so what's for dinner? Well, efforts in the bedroom late in the afternoon despite all sorts of fervent conjurings didn't go so well, and thus I was confronted with yet another limit to my imagination, it seems that I get bored with the same fantasies, same one twice in a row (morning to afternoon), so must constantly seek to reinvent - somehow. And plus, maybe I'm not quite the self-involved, self-sufficient narcissist I seem - I would enjoy company - yours.
(I keep starting to put this down, then deleting it - that I wish you'd drop me a line again, but only if you're going to be remotely steady about it. I'm still wondering why it took seven months to acknowledge - and I would really love to learn the reason, I'm truly mystified. But if it doesn't work for you then it doesn't work for you - I'm certainly not going to be hanging around waiting for the virtual phone to ring.)
Right, so dinner's going to be sauteed onions and livers, the latter collected from packaged whole chickens prior to roasting, and frozen until I've accumulated enough for a main course. I've been rising to the challenge of getting through the weekly CSA produce share, picked up every Friday afternoon in the growing season. Lunch today was pasta that involved kale, a tight sheaf of dark gorgeous folds reminiscent of an exotic crinkled-silk fan. And there was also a small cabbage, diminutive & elongated, rather than the usual fat round cannonball - I thought I might sauté it to go along with the liver & onions. The outer soft green furls turned out to enclose pristine white & yellow depths, delicate & enticing. (I'm not even striving for food porn here but am getting turned on.) I tasted a bit: incredibly fresh & flavorful, possibly the best raw cabbage I've ever experienced, both visually and in terms of flavor. Sautéeing is a waste when it's that good raw, so I decided to make cole slaw, an uncertain proposition as I consulted my cookbook because it calls for very specific seasonings, such as celery seeds & celery salt. Which by miracle, I had in my tub of spice jars, left over from when I made cole slaw last summer, or maybe it was Bloody Marys over the winter... because you know the foodie police (chorus of disapproval) would be aghast at my use of expired spices - they were flavorful enough, it was fine.
My darling, my darling. How can I end this? Better luck next time, for starters. Recharging batteries. Oh, aaarrggh. Ah well, tomorrow's another day, and this evening's only beginning.