Loyal Readers! Those who have been reading for a time know that your BloomingtonGirl has a weakness for beautiful footwear. In winter, I wear exclusively boots but when spring comes, your BloomingtonGirl's Boot Fancy turns to thoughts of Shoe Love. (apologies to Tennyson for such bastardization of his lovely words.)
Here are two delicious examples of shoes I would love to own and would indeed own if I were inclined to (or insane enough to) shell out a bazillion dollars per pair. These beauties are by Christian LeBoutain, but you probably already knew that. The red sole gives them away. The first one, at left, has a price tag of about $1700 (!!!). I am reminded of dragees (please forgive the lack of accent mark...I don't know how to do that in Blogger). I never enjoy eating a dragee, but they look so beautiful and I have no objection to wearing them or a clever and expensive representation of them.
The second pair below simply reminds me that I LOVE shoes. I'm off to Manhattan in a few weeks and I have decided that I shall try them on just for the thrill of it. I am going to have a much needed pedicure before my trip so my feet will be worthy. I have no intention of purchasing them, but a girl can dream, right? (Of the two pair, I favor the blue suede. What say you, Loyal Ones?)
In other news, my friend Jenny came over for pizza tonight with her two boys in tow. They are two of Jack's best friends and Jenny is one of mine, so the evening was lovely. Chris was working late, so he was spared all of the girl talk and the rambunctious boys' yelling and running around. As I write this, Chris is home and relaxing in front of an NCAA basketball game, Jack is snug in his bed and I am writing to my Loyal Readers. Life is remarkably good.
I'm off to take a luxurious bath and then to bed to read Othello. I am reading it for the first time as part of an independent study I am doing on the Narcissistic and Psychopathic personalities. Iago is really something. Shakespeare really got people.
I love these boots, Loyal Readers. I made the mistake of not ordering them when I first fell in love. Now, they don't have my size. That'll teach me. I'll just have to find another pair to love.
As I write, it is pouring down rain. It has rained steadily off and on today and I have to say that I find it a relief to have a day of lousy weather after a couple of weeks of beautiful days. Gorgeous weather makes me feel pressured to be outside every minute, taking advantage of the fresh air and sunshine, perhaps prancing around in the spring clothes I have not yet unpacked for the season. Does this make me a bit of a lazy depressive? Well, so be it. Give me Seattle anytime.
In other news, Jack's class had a parents' night this week and he showed us the book he has been reading every day during silent reading period. It is a handbook about natural disasters in which events are rated with a number of skulls to illustrate how common the thing is and how likely the event or thing is to kill you. These values taken together produce some kind of deadly rating for the thing. Examples range from black widows and sting rays to killer whales and pyroclastic flows (uber uber deadly). Following a description of each event, survival tips are given. Jack is not just reading it. He is reading it over and over in order to memorize it. He is becoming a little actuary for natural disaster. I can't decide if it is incredibly neurotic or amusing. Either way, the number of facts he's memorized is impressive. He'll be a laugh riot at future parties.
I'm off to work out and watch Season Four of Weeds. It keeps me on the Nordic Track for close to an hour, the time an "aging" woman must exercise each day to avoid becoming a flab-a-lanche, according to a recent article in our paper. I don't think Weeds is all that good but it is a nice mindless escape. I LOVE Celia. She's such a disaster.
Here is a photo of one of many bags of LuckyGuy Bakery HoosierMama Brownies that were made as part of a fundraiser for Jack's school. They are pretty little bags, full of rich rich richrichrich chocolate goodness. These days, I (really) don't enjoy being in the kitchen too much, truth-be-told, but as I gazed at the beautiful finished products of today's labors, I was reminded how instantly gratifying baking can be. Most people love LuckyGuy products and are always so happy to get them. One of my "customers" buys a full batch of HoosierMama Brownies from time to time to give as her signature Thank You Gifts. A professor I know at IU used to buy them for her grad students from time to time. I ran into her and two of her grad students one day on the street. When one of them realized that I made the brownies he so adored, he threw his arms around me and waxed effusively about how mine were the best brownies in the world. I felt like a rock star.
In contrast to my writing life these past weeks, my baking life - if you will - gives me an opportunity to create something delicious and beautiful that is almost certain to be enjoyed and appreciated. I have full and sole control of the quality of the product, and thousands (or at least many many hundreds) of hours of experience at the craft. I am confident of my abilities and know that I can produce a delicious product, beautifully packaged. My writing life, on the other hand, is in such a slump. I can't seem to finish anything or come up with any novel ideas or even clever ways to present a not so novel idea. I just shipped off the copies of my Over the Moon script for an upcoming reading at the Playwright's Center in Minneapolis and I was overwhelmed with negativity about the work. The plot is predictable, cliche and the play has some serious problems. I don't know if I have the ambition or the talent to fix them. I don't write this to evoke reassurance. I have no idea why I'm writing it. Maybe it is to avoid going back into the kitchen to make Rogan Josh for dinner tonight. I unwisely defrosted some lamb yesterday and now I have an imperative to get it cooked. (My responsible farmer/uber healthy eater husband bought an entire locally raised lamb late last fall and we are working our way through various cuts of it over time. It's great stuff, but some days I just want to have a bowl of cereal for dinner, feed my husband and kid something ready made from the store and call it a day, you know?)
I started my creative endeavors later in life than many people I know. It is hard not to get discouraged by that fact, even though it shouldn't matter much at all. I'm in a class at IU right now with several undergrads (and one woman in her thirties and a grad student) and I envy them their early creative start in the arts. On the other hand, I know I have the wonderful circumstance of not having to make a living from art and reasonable time in which to produce it. It is never lost on me how fortunate I am. But, I gotta tell you that lately, I wish I'd never taken up the pen in earnest. It won't give me peace and I feel an almost constant pressure to produce something that is reasonably good. I am starting to think that I aspire to something I don't think I have the stuff to create.
I am going East in a few weeks to see some theatre and some friends and maybe this will pull me out of my slump. Here's hoping. Until then, I think I'll stick to baking as much as possible. Success breeds success and maybe some of that will spill over into my writing. You never know.