Tuesday, December 6, 2011

My dearest, I'm staving off Christmas by prolonging Thanksgiving, in the form of an apple pie made from scratch, baking in the oven now, buttery aroma wafting up the stairs. I went food shopping today, with a long list, and thought I might make a chocolate-hazelnut torte, bought bars of good bittersweet chocolate towards that end. But I think I'll make that closer to Christmas Day.

It's pouring rain, wet and miserable out, though still mild. My books for this weekend - paperback editions, by Messrs. Charyn and Benfey - arrived in the mail this morning, the postman tossed the package (in a sturdy cardboard mailer that I'm keeping for reuse) onto the back porch, and I ran down in my pink minotaur outfit to open it.

So all my little plans & preparations for the upcoming weekend are falling into place. I'm mapping a driving route for myself. I plan to leave early Saturday morning, so that I can arrive in good time, get the lay of the land (motel/Amherst campus/Homestead), maybe get in a vigorous walk, and most definitely check in to the motel early so as to have time for a nap, so that I feel rested for the evening. (Though I may be too excited to sleep - but let's not project in such detail.) I have an appointment Thursday afternoon to get my lovely locks trimmed. They are lovely! Which reminds me that I had a bit of a nightmare the other day...

Noted morning of 4 December 2011
Glad to be awake – had a dream that felt realistic, more of a nightmare, glad it wasn’t true. I dreamt that I was living at home, Mama and I were at war. She wanted me to leave the house, but I had nowhere to go. Evidently I had gotten very drunk the night before – but I didn’t remember. Mama started in on me about that – and I told her that I knew she didn’t love me, and for her to get out of my sight. I started getting dressed to go meet 1.0, who was going to be speaking (I think) at the Appellate Division. I dressed in front of a mirror, putting on an ugly green silk top and loud plaid black, white & green jacket. I’d just gotten my hair cut and it was very short, I couldn't stand it. I’d gone for a trim, but the hairdresser had cut off all the length I’d been working on for so long. I was so dejected – feeling desexed & unattractive – that I started to cry. 1.0 would never find me attractive with a haircut like that…

Fortunately I woke up. My hair’s still long.
I think I've been thinking about the actress Michele Williams - she's so bright & intelligent, but she's been wearing this "pixie" haircut - so improbable since she's currently in the cinema portraying Marilyn Monroe. And plus I don't like the word "pixie" or the look it describes -- I think of a boyish Sandy Duncan (sorry Sandy). But Michele looks nice in that expertly cut, highlighted, bangs on the diagonal pixie cut -- with her freshfaced charm, and gorgeous cut-lace blouse with a Mandarin collar, so sheer that through it an elegant brassiere (white as I recall) showed through...

Pause for reality check -- to take pie, chicken too probably, out of oven. Be right back.

Yes, so maybe that was an anxiety dream. I enjoy having long hair - I think of the old-fashioned phrase - of hair as a woman's "crowning glory" -- and I think there is something to that. I felt very desperate in my dream to be regarding my short hair, trying to fluff the top...

Ah, so I will be super-vigilant at the hairdressers on Thursday -- but L's good - she doesn't go crazy chopping off length, not at all. But that did actually happen to me once, when I first moved up here, with a different hairdresser - who had ideas of her own wholly apart of what I was trying to go for - and so I suppose the nightmare - the prospect of its becoming real - lingers.

Sweetheart - sorry I'm going on about my neuroses. Oh guess what - D's been giving me lessons on pumping gas. So far I've watched him do it.

He said to me this morning, when I mentioned to him that the books I'd ordered had arrived and that all the myriad pieces are falling in place -- ah you sound like Cinderella - going to the ball in her own pumpkin

And this Cinderella will be pumping her own gas!

I know that Lenore is on her way now, and hope she's having a safe & enjoyable trip.

Oh sweetheart, this post is a mess, but it's a fairly accurate snapshot of moments from today... which included a moment (more like twenty minutes, I needed time to get going) with you... it was mild enough that I didn't need a coat...

I should get back to that Shakespeare book I've been reading... I haven't cracked a book in days - no, that's not true, I started reading Pale Fire, when I lay down for a nap, and (though very intrigued) I fell asleep, and when I woke I set about to bake pie...

Dearest love, oh my dearest, I hope wherever you are you are having a cozy, delightful, warm, charming evening. Here it's cold and wet out, I can hear the rain. But - as in my heart - all is warm and loving and cheerful and exciting and anticipatory within --

goodness, I certainly don't wish to overdo things -- darker aspects of myself are cringing and emoting in the form of giant silent sarcastic eyerolls...

sweetheart -- how can I kiss you in letters? typing, typing, typing

oh aarrghhh

oh my darling

No comments:

Post a Comment