Hello, again! Did you have a lovely weekend? Mine was quite nice, thank you. The weather was perfect . . . perfect, I tell you. In that we had no recourse but to join the rest of Boise in perusing the nursery for vegetable plants and brightly colored flowers, planting soil and compost. And while we’re not finished, by any means, we made considerable headway in the weeding department. Looking out the windows no longer sets off a nervous tick.
A good weekend, indeed.
Other than that, here are a couple random thoughts from the last few days . . .
Reeling in the Wodehouse: Nothing quite lifts the spirits like a good dose of P.G. Wodehouse. It’s recommended you read his works in private. More oft than not, people tend to frown upon your consistent chortling, let alone the occasional guffaw. Further, they tend to eschew being followed about, as you read aloud passages of particular hilarity. Ask not how I know these things.
Recently finished reading Ukridge, myself. It may very well be a favorite. The only downside to the novel has been its sneaky injection into everyday conversation. Case in point, the other day, as my mum explained a certain accomplishment, I exclaimed, Well done, old bird. Well done! Helpful hint: the day you call your mom ‘old bird’ is the day you reel in the Wodehouse and embark on an author of a different sort.
Movie notices: We’ve got movie reviews and movie ratings, but I’m fairly certain there should be some sort of movie notice. Mainly, one that reads: watching this film is prone to make you depressed. Sure, the title Miss Austen Regrets should have been a sign, but the trailer and reviews offered nothing of the sort. Between watching that and reading Edwardian chick lit, it’s amazing I could even get out of bed this morning. Seriously. A person needs a little warning . . .