A massive Pacific storm kept us company all weekend. The sun came and went, but the wind blew constantly. I had to rescue several loose garden items, but none of my plants blew over. I must finally have found the perfect geometry to weather a storm. The grass is long, and mushrooms have sprouted everywhere. I pull them up when the rain stops, but they've invaded and I don't think they'll go away until late winter when it dries up again around here.
Being in the back yard always reminds me of Dixie. It's sad not having a dog. I wish we'd been able to find one. I've got the papers for the Lab Rescue people, but I can't afford the $75 to sign up for it. We've been further afield to the San Francisco SPCA and the Oakland shelter, and I go to the Peninsula Humane Society almost every weekend, but we can't seem to find the right combination of age and breed. I would never have thought it would take so long to find a dog once we decided we really wanted one! It's crazy. So many beautiful animals out there, but they're all either too young or too small or need the kind of exercise we can't provide. Our city has banned dog parks. It's cruel, there's no dog run or park anywhere near us. We'd have to drive way up into the hills to get to the nearest one, and it's not someplace I'd care to be after dark. So, no border collies, no pointers, no animals that need lots of aerobic exercise. Three walks a day is what we can offer. We must choose our pet accordingly. I would like to have had a dog for the long holiday. It would have been the perfect time to create a bond before the work week started.
Instead, I've written my paper for Philosophy. It very nearly doesn't suck. I'm going over it one last time to make sure my points are obvious, that I haven't forgotten the tentative summary of the discussion, and that I haven't lost track of what I meant to say. My citations are in order. My bibliography consists entirely of web references. It's the right length, and it's not badly written, but oh is it dull. That, in the end, may be what sinks it. I just can't get worked up over racial profiling this weekend, no matter how I try. I'm far too somnolent from Thanksgiving dinner and all the delicious leftovers.
The weekend in general has been most restful. I have thoroughly disrupted my sleeping habits, taking many naps and staying up shockingly late. I have eaten a ridiculous amount. I have cooked, and cleaned, and provided amusement for my cats. For my own amusement I have read two out of the three (technically four out of six) books of The Lord of the Rings. Our Tolkien discussion on Friday was quite interesting despite my initial misgivings. I made cream cheese stuffed mushrooms (recipe courtesy Fabulous Foods) in honor of Frodo's love of mushrooms, and we talked about Tolkien himself, what aspect of the book kept us rereading it over the years, whether Tolkien posited absolute good and absolute evil or whether that only seems to be the case and all the characters are truly allowed choices. It was especially interesting to me how differently people responded to the trilogy based on how old they were when they first read it. I think I was the youngest, having read the Hobbit at age 8 or 9 (third grade, at any rate) and the trilogy when I was 12. The older one was the more one noticed the politics and drew the historical analogies, apparently. Not me, I was just thrilled by the elves and the Englishness of it.
Today is the 25th of November. Christmas is one month away, and I no longer resent the decorations in all the stores. It's officially time to listen to Christmas music. To celebrate the season I am listening to my new CD by my high school friend and well-known pianist Diane Hidy. It's called Angel Song, a lovely flute and piano duet of Christmas and sacred songs. I know I will never play piano worth beans no matter how many classes I take, but Diane makes me want to try my best. She is a tremendously accomplished artist, and this is the perfect music for the holidays. Her playing is so beautiful. It reminds me of many happy years listening to my friends play for me as I sang. Oh, our Schubertiades! Four hand piano, lieder, coffee mit schlag, pastries and as much decadence as we could muster in someone's tiny campus apartment, music students dreaming of Vienna. Listening to Ave Maria brings it all back.
If you would like an instrumental CD of Christmas music, this is a winner. 10 percent of the profits go to non-profit organizations serving children.
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