All the words

I have run out of words.

I had company this weekend. My mama came to visit, to see the new flat and to explore Lake Town with me. We had such a nice time together: saw beautiful things; discovered charming places; ate yummy food; and talked.

We talked a lot.

For someone who is accustomed to solitude and silence, a four minute phone conversation is more talking than I'm used to - outside of work. Four days of chatting and listening was exponentially more than I'm used to. I borrowed words from next week, and probably even used up someone else's words as well. Someone, somewhere, right in the middle of a conversation just suddenly stopped talking... lips flapping like a fish out of water, hands clutching throat, puzzled look in their eyes, confused as to why there is no sound, no words. If that happened, it's because I used them all. If that happened to you, I'm ever so sorry.

I would apologize, but I just don't have the words.

The irony of ironing

I blow dried by hair this morning.

That may not seem like a big deal to you, but man, it's a lot of work! First the application of various goops, struggling with the part, jugggling the appliances and brushes (of which there are more than two) and clips. Man, it's exhausting.  Then comes the flat iron.

I went the extra mile and put on makeup. Even mascara. Mascara is heavy, did you know that?  By the end of the day, my eyelids are going to be tired from the extra effort of keeping my eyes open. Nobody tells you mascara requires a gradual building up of endurance.

I spritzed a little perfume, and chose sparkly earrings.

All this because earlier in the week, a very cute boy... well, a man, really... from the town's works department came in to my workplace to arrange for when he would paint a wall for us. Today was to be that day His eyes twinkled at me..

That's right... I did this to myself for a boy.

I got to work just as he walked out, wall freshly and perfectly painted. We were in the same room for all of 12.5 seconds.

Ironic.

Of birds and books

I wish I was a bird. I would chirp and tweet and hop from branch to branch of the highest tree. On a beautiful blue sky day like today, I want to chirp.

Thursday last, between leaving the building and arriving at my car, I spotted seven hawks circling overhead. Is there anything more graceful than a large bird, wingspan outstretched, gently drifting on the currents? How restful it must be, to simply float through the air.

I'd take a dose of Gravol first, of course.

What is your idea of ultimate peace?
If you could have a superpower, what would it be?
What book are you reading right now, and would you recommend it to friends?

Actually, here's a question I'd love to get some answers to:
Is there a book that was The Bomb... every person you know read it, it was on all the best seller's lists... and when you finally got your hands on it, it did absolutely nothing for you?  What was all the fuss about, anyway?

Circling overhad like a hawk would be my idea of peacefullness. A more earthbound option is to be on the shore of big water. A wide open expanse of water soothes my soul.

I'd like to be able to fly, if I could have my pick of superpowers. Though, there is a series of books for children, about a girl named Emily Eyefinger. She has an eyeball on the tip of one of her fingers, and she uses it to solve mysteries, by peeking around corners etc.  There are times when that would be useful.

One of the books I'm reading at the moment is called Locavore. It's about the local food movement in Canada.  Quite interesting so far. Yes, I would recommend it to anyone who either enjoys reading nonfiction, or if you are concerned about the food industry.

As for a book that was a letdown for me... hmmm. The English patient by Michael Ondaatje. I'm sorry to say it bored me to tears. Made for a fine movie, but as a book, I couldn't see what all the fuss was about.

Have a lovely weekend, dear Reader.