her own small widgeon cries

hi!  if i've friended you, you probably post some pretty fabulous fiction, amusing anecdotes, or something equally exciting.  if you've friended me, well, welcome to the madhouse, and try not to trip over the alliteration as you come in!

in my experience, the odds aren't really very good that someone's most recent entry will be sufficiently low-drama for people to feel comfortable piping up & introducing themselves there.  this post is intended to help prevent these dilemmas in my own journal: introductions go here, as well as any other non sequiturs.  of course, if you don't share my need for an engraved invitation, please do feel free to speak ex nihilo, ad libitum, et cetera—and to mock me for my latin & lowercase. :D

today was one of those rare non-cashwrap days that i cherish so. *blissful sigh* also i am reading robertson davies’ cornish trilogy (the rebel angels, what’s bred in the bone & the lyre of orpheus, which my edition has combined into one volume). it is entirely fabulous, & i cannot believe i didn’t discover it sooner.

and with my legs stretched out in front of me like this, it occurs to me to note that my leg hair has reached ridiculous lengths. what, it’s winter & i wear pants all the time, no one sees it! i should probably shave at some point, but i’m sort of enjoying biting my thumb at beauty a little. also i’m wearing purple fuzzy socks, which are pretty rockin’—my sartorial splendor, let me show you it.

(…not.)

in closing, let me recommend weber’s trio for flute, piano & cello in g minor, op. 63. my sister learned it last summer for the chamber music program she attended, and it’s an utterly gorgeous piece: perhaps more fascinating to me than it would be otherwise, having heard her part alone & then combined, but then music worth its salt¹ is always better on a second (or third, or thirtieth) hearing.

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¹not, i know, a felicitous expression in this context. do forgive me.

See, banks and brakes

Now leavèd how thick! lacèd they are again

With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes

Them; birds build—but not I build; no, but strain,

Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes.

Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.

a fleece hat, in cotton-candy pink. what can i say, my ears were cold.

three pairs of socks, two mysteriously aloe-infused (idk either, okay) & one tall and fleecy, with bright-colored polka dots.

short spandex—all the better to erg in!  eta mmix.ii.iii and to hold stockings up!

a sports bra & matching underwear—and when i say matching, i mean they're both tan.  unexciting, i know, but on the bright side there won't be any awkward "check out the random stripe showing thru yr shirt... that's actually your bra" moments.  not to mention that my spotted socks bring all the boys to the yard anyway, so i scorn the aid of lingerie. :D

two sleeveless tops, also for erging: one pale-pink to match my hat (color-coordination, i have mastered it) & one black.  this last is even tighter than your normal crew apparel, but was on sale—at least it'll layer well?

and last but not in any way least, my under armour to-go-on-the-outside: it is royal blue, dashingly accented (as sportswear often is) with a paler blue, and has EMO SLEEVES!  that come down to my knuckles and have holes for my thumbs!  (not that i can row like that, but i can carry boats like that and put away iced-over oars like that and do many other fabulous things like that.  among which is sitting around my room feeling really cool.)