Ninety minutes ago, I considered sitting down to write, but instead sat on the comfortable couch for a few minutes. I promptly fell asleep to the tune of Roomba noisily vacuuming my floors for me – welcome to the future, Mrs. Jetson – and the kids playing the loudest game possible downstairs. I could hear them, through my dozing, excitedly yelling about whatever it was they were doing. I did not investigate.
I feel incredibly refreshed from this unusual and unexpected nap. Maybe it’s some kind of Friday the 13th voodoo going on. The bitter weather has suddenly broken, as it was apparently expected to, according to my mail carrier. I was chatting with him on Wednesday and he, positive and happy soul that he is, informed me that this was the END of the cold weather FOR THE WHOLE WINTER. I confess I looked at him with the kind of smiling face that you give a child who tells you that she is going to be a pony when she grows up.
Have I ever mentioned that there was a period in my childhood where I believed I would grow up to be a flower? Like, an actual plant. I clearly remember reading a story about plant cycles and becoming devastated on the discovery that I would die in the winter. This seems like it might be an allegory for my life but it isn’t, really. I guess I just really liked flowers and aimed to be one. I still like flowers, although it’s not my life goal to be a daisy or a rose anymore.
Speaking of blooming, I just finished reading Fear of Flying. I first read it in my twenties, and even then I did not find it to be the sexually liberating book that it is celebrated as. I didn’t remember it in its entirety, although I did remember grim details like I worried that I got the clap from having sex with all those uncircumcised Florentines. Ew. I found it much more interesting on a historical basis, as much of it takes place in Heidelberg, Germany in the 1960s, which would be a very strange place, post-war. There is much description about Europe in general at that time, and I am just going to come out and say it: I realize that the pendulum swings, and revolutions serve a purpose, but the Sexual Revolution and the concept of Free Love were both pretty gross. I mean, really. Not to mention the descriptions of the lack of hygiene WHILE having all this unprotected sex. Maybe it’s because I grew up in the 80s, when we were all indoctrinated about the importance of safe sex, but IMAGINE all the STDs. Or don’t imagine it.
There is a description about when the narrator has been camping on roadsides in Europe with the man she’s having an affair with. It has been QUITE SOME TIME since she’s showered, they have sex daily, and when she finally gets to an actual (seedy) hotel that has a bathroom, the dirt comes off her arms in streaks. But she can’t take an actual bath because she has her period and somehow does not have any tampons, so no bath for her. What? Why? Ew.
I have really talked about this enough and must change the subject, however gracelessly. Here, take a look at what I found at Superstore!
This takes me back to the early 90s, when I, along with many of my teenaged peers, wore vanilla perfume. We were like a horde of cookie-scented darlings.
This brought back memories too! I think I got some of these for Christmas, back in the day. Who knew they still made them?
I remember everyone who was anyone wore Exclamation back in junior high school, along with their Salon Selectives hairspray holding up their teased bangs. It went well with Levi’s 501 jeans and gargantuan sweatshirts from Beaver Canoe and Roots. Canadiana nostalgia!
In line with my New Year’s Goals/ Resolutions/ Whatever We Are Calling Them These Days, I am reading a lot more and am currently devouring Tamarind Mem. I had read it years ago and it is still wonderful. Bonus for local people: there is a big Calgary connection in the book, even though the mother refers to it as “Calgary North Pole place.” Anyway, it’s a gorgeous read – maybe not as groundbreaking and earth-shattering as Fear of Flying, but it contains no hygienic descriptions that make the reader shudder in horror.
Have a lovely weekend everyone! xo
Yaaaassss vanilla perfume. I eventually bought a bottle of vanilla extract and wore THAT as perfume, because it was cheaper.
I admit I still love the smell of vanilla! Body wash! Lotion! I love it.
I’ve never read Fear of Flying, but I’m not sure I want to, based on glance into it.
I wouldn’t recommend it! Unless you want to read it as a timepiece from the Sixties, but even then, there are much better ways to spend your time.