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July 02, 2006
coffee in bed plus cupcakes and wine
Its a good day when you wake up with a little Dawg sleeping next to you in crescent formation, spooning. And the weather has cooled down, in fact, its overcast and hushed, and during our morning walk it began to rain softly, and cold raindrops fell on my shoulders. Even Marcel, who is not so keen on the damp under his paddy-paws, seemed pleased at the coolness. Its been raining on and off all morning, and Marcel and I have lazed about, reading, drinking coffee (me) and eating ice cubes (Marcel-who doesn't have rational thought) in bed, and snoozing (if only I could teach him how to make pancakes- of course he would eat them all up before I could get any anyway). Curiously, the Hot Dog Lady hasn't been in the parkles all weekend. Marcel and I are puzzled, Marcel in fact, visits her parking place by the stoplight and sniffs around for her. He usually leaves a little note that he was there, too. This neighborhood seems especially fraught with patriots, flags, fireworks and whatnot. Marcel and I are not inclined to want to celebrate this holiday, as he is averse to loud, sudden noises and I am averse to patriotism. So we read and snooze, and sometimes visit Dawn and Skippy the Bichon, who live downstairs.
Here is what I have been reading~ Too Brief A Treat: The Letters of Truman Capote. Which has inspired a serious case of wanderlust as well as a rare kind of literary satisfaction which is similar to eating cupcakes, really good cupcakes, and maybe washing them down with wine. Ok, that's just silly but what I'm saying is its indulgent, and over the top, (and plus I really don't like wine that much- probably I could be persuaded though, and have considered it, because lord knows if I am to be any kind of genius in the art world maybe this is the missing ingredient, but I digress) because he was. The beauty part for me is he got to claim artist status in a big way, and travel around and work in beautiful, inspiring places. Capote spent a good deal of time living in Italy, in Sicily and also Rome, and traveled to Paris, and spent time in Tangiers, among other places. And never had a day job at Starbux, how did he get away with it?? In fact, there weren't any and that's the other beauty part. People in his stories, in New York, are always eating at the Automat. I so want to eat at the Automat, because you just know they have pie there. During the section of his letters where talked about his progress in writing The Grass Harp I read that, and got all down and folksy with it, oh, it is a sweet story involving loveable spinsters (and characters who say things like "the notion!"), and Capote does folksy like nobody else. And spinsters too, which is probably part of my fascination with him of late. He's quite spinster-friendly! Having been raised by them. You know this, too, if you have ever read, seen the pbs tv show of, or seen a stage production of (as I have, all three, plus own the illustrated children's version, and haul it out yearly to be read aloud, this is how I love this story) A Christmas Memory, a story which I've witnessed with my own eyes, can make a full grown man cry. Believe it.
So yeah, if it being summer weren't enough, reading these letters has inspired this full-blown wanderlust of a most delicious kind. Its not unpleasant, even if it will go unfulfilled, at least until the 15th.
Certainly there is enough other stuff to keep us occupied as well. This morning I have been mopping the kitchen floor, among other very ambitious tasks (lest anyone suspect I have a deficient work ethic, oh, how wrong you would be!) for the Big Dawg Bachelor Pad is being whipped into girl-friendliness! Little by little. My Polish grandmother is smiling as she witnesses the floor-scrubbing marathon, involving much hot water, soap, bleach (bleach!) and hard work. I am making her proud! Its true. There is something very satisfying about it all.
p.s. I learned something else important, maybe you didn't know. But maybe I'm the only one. But fyi, in case it might be useful in the future, if someone calls, gets your voicemail, and says they are just checking to see how you are, they might not really want to know. And if they really, for some reason, want or need to know, they will call again. Its true. I think that's how it is.
Posted by pippypippy at July 2, 2006 11:41 AM
Comments
oh bless that smiling Polish Grandmother! Marcel has rational thought - like bite the book I'm reading so I'll chase him or whine softly if I'm at the puter too long. He's a master. Crafty in his Boston Ways.
Good Capote spinster stories in Music for C's
Posted by: john at July 2, 2006 07:24 PM
I think I'll look for that Capote book. I read all of his stuff when I was younger. The movie Capote was great wasn't it?
Posted by: Elizabeth at July 6, 2006 07:34 AM
I miss my halcyon days of eating from vending machines. Pies, sandwiches and the rare occasion when an ice cream vending machine was spotted next to the automats. Automated bliss which faded in the mists of time while I was still in my single digits.
Posted by: Corey at July 13, 2006 06:27 PM