S … is for Saturday
November 15, 2008 § 4 Comments
Stunned that I got some sleep, I was wondering how to warm up this morning and found a note from Anno giving me the letter “S” to play with … so, sans coffee yet utterly refreshed by 8.5 hours of shut eye, I am leaping on it before embarking on the novel. Herein,
7 Things I Love that Begin With the Letter S
Sundaes: I can’t help it. Mounds of vanilla topped with hot fudge, caramel or butterscotch. Sweet. Whipped cream. Walnuts or pecans. But, not to be eaten often. Sundaes in the summertime is the way to go. And a sundae should be enjoyed in a social situation, with HM and the kids (if they’re around; they rally to the ice cream bell like ducks to a pond). I rarely eat sundaes with a friend. HM says I’m the fastest ice cream eater in the Midwest, that my spoon melts at the rate at which I can consume the creamy stuff. So, no; it wouldn’t be good to eat sundaes with others who might decry my tendency to finish, lick my spoon and look at their ice cream. The sundae is a royal thing, celebratory and if made, properly, it’s pretty. I look forward to the future where, as in Woody Allen’s Sleeper, sundaes are considered healthy and more or less a food requirement.
Scrapbooks: They hold all kinds of stories. I like the “old” way people do them, using tape, sticking everything of meaning in them, I like the way Peter Baird did his, adding his own drawing and pictures and text and “art”; I like the way the “crop” crowd does them with pictures and accessories and die cuts and rub ons and charms rendering each page an $8 event! but still these tell a story. And the scrapbook tells a story of the person who put it together, what was important to them at the time, how they went about fixing things to a page. It’s always all about story with me. And so …
Stories: Reading stories wherever they are. And maybe writing them down. Studying an advertisement in a glossy mag. A good one tells a story. Reading the bottom of the tissue box, the ‘sound off’ section in the local paper, watching the interaction of a mom and her kids at the grocery store. Stories – they’re everywhere. Some evade translation, run away when you try to put pen to paper to relate them. But I love them. And storytelling? Egads. One of the many reasons I fell in love with HM. That man can tell a story. Tales told ’round the campfire? I’m there. Everyone loves stories. It’s built in. From thousands of years ago. It’s the best and possibly most basic form of entertainment. Still is.
Swimming: Unless it’s very cold or unless a sign is posted saying ‘no swimming’ or unless I can see that it would be a dunderhead thing to venture into it, it is difficult to be around water without getting in it. Not a brilliant swimmer, I love the water nonetheless. Home from work and sitting on the patio next to the pool wtih HM, I can look at the water, all blue and clear with the lights reflecting on it and next thing you know, I’m going in. True of salt water too, standing at the beach. Gotta get in it. Unless you trump up some awful image of sharks or even sting rays. hahaha. Not funny. This little Pisces loves her water and water sports. Always have.
Silence: Natural silence, I mean. Yes, the birds can sing. The dogs can snore. The house can creak and crack, the furnace can go on. But silence, sometimes, is a palpable thing I crave. Especially on the heels of hubub. I crave it on the way home from work. No radio, please. I’m chilling. I crave it early in the morning when it’s easiest to write. (Don’t get me wrong, I dearly love its opposite.)
Shopping: Material Girl? no. Shopaholic? nah. Suburban-gotta-have-5-of-the-same-thing? nope. I love to shop, though. It’s like looking at a constantly evolving museum of what’s hot, what are the trends, what do we need (if anything) and what is going on with design in its broadest term. I don’t get into the stores every day nor every weekend. So when I go it’s like WOW! and I look at all the shiney things and marvel of what I haven’t seen or noticed before. Yup, it’s like a living breathing museum. And if I avoid impulse and see that same thing I thought I just had to have and see it over and over and over, I finally don’t want it anymore. The fun of shopping is in the discovery, not in the ‘having.’ It’s an adventure. And shopping with Nory is great. How lucky I am to have a daughter who will shop with me, advise, laugh, and encourage. And likes a lot of the same stores yet steers me away from others (too old, too dark, too this, too that!) It’s a funny thing about shopping; you can’t just do it with anyone.
Singing: It’s freedom. It’s joy. Ask my dogs. They hear me in the morning after HM has already left for work. Ask my car! I sing freely in my car. And then there are my best friends from grade school; when we’re together (rare, but still) we sing. Oh, and the realtor who showed us this house and became our great friend – I can sing with Deni. And Ging. We used to sing in the halls of the federal building where we worked. There is nothing quite like breaking spontaneously into song!
And now, to “nano.”
(thanks, Anno – you’re a peach!)