Nattering

Behind on everything — especially email, and my feed reader has 417 new items — but will try my best to catch up this weekend.

I think I forgot to mention that we finally saw The Jane Austen Book Club last weekend and liked it a great deal, actually. It’s not as good as the book, obvs, but was a pleasurable way to spend two hours (even if Hugh Dancy’s pronunciation of Ursula, as in Ursula Le Guin, drove us crazy). How often do you see a movie about people who really care about books? It was nice.

Is it wrong for me to suddenly want to grow a giant pumpkin now that we’re homeowners?

I should say that it runs in my family. My paternal grandfather once grew a squash so big he got to be pictured next to it in the newspaper. It was almost immediately stolen. But, there’s a happy ending–he put a chastising ad in the classifieds about how much work the thing had taken to cultivate and how only an extremely low form of life would steal it and the squash reappeared on the back porch.

Let us all bid September a not-so-fond adieu. October feels better already. A word of caution to home improvement DIYers — while this is pretty, it is an utter, complete, total fabrication that it is in any way "easy" to install. Not easy. Particularly not in a hundred-year-old house, in which the original rooms are not actually "square" and have complicated woodwork around the doors. You may wonder why we chose said product? Because it was supposed to be easy, and we could do it ourselves, saving on installation. This according to the manufacturer and the LIARSPEOPLE OF THE INTERNET.

I hate to use the transitional adverb LUCKILY here, because LUCKY doesn’t even begin to cover it, but when it turns out that you have been lied to by a flooring product and everyone online, the only possible way to salvage the outcome is to be, LUCKILY, rescued by a ridiculously generous neighbor who used to do this stuff professionally and is willing to spend all weekend bailing you out. It looks lovely though, it does, and is done except for transitions and stuff. So, in this way, I am counting our first big house project a success. And those of you who come visit will be amazed at how different the kitchen feels.

(We still have a couple of rooms we want to replace the flooring on, but it’s seeming far less urgent, and way more likely we will hire it done.)

And that was the weekend… On a more bookish topic, the other day OGIC mentioned that she’d discovered The Hobbit for the first time and asked:

What children’s classics did you first discover as an adult (Harry Potter doesn’t count), and how did it make you feel–old? young again?

I’ll say Dodie Smith‘s I Capture the Castle and Michael de Larrabeiti‘s Borribles trilogy. Both of these made me feel incredibly sad that I hadn’t discovered them when I was a kid, and completely enchanted. But then, I feel closest to my childhood self when I’m reading anything that completely connects. There is a kind of joy there that is maybe more rare as I get older, but no less powerful when it comes.

Our house is not a manse, not close (though it does have that formal parlour), but we decided it needed a name. We decided this while at an art show — controversial though that may have been to red-shirt lady and dorky kid — featuring exquisite letterpress work from locally-based Press 817. (To see some work from another exceedingly awesome local letterpress outfit go to Cricket Press — I suggest buying some prints and posters and etc. See also: their Etsy store.) Anyway, henceforth when you’re coming to visit and someone asks where you’re going, tell them:

I think you’ll agree it’s perfect.

Now we just have to get a copy of the print that came from. Some background here for those unfamiliar with the moniker’s origin.

Okay, now back to novelizing for me.

And after affixing 3 sets of initials and 31 signatures to 18 documents consisting of 35 individual sheets of paper (thanks to Christopher for the tally), we are officially homeowners. The best part is: We’ve been living in the house for three years so we don’t have to move and know exactly what we want to "improve."

Come visit!

Despite the whole having gotten a Wii thing (play with us!), I should be back now, making with the posting and things. Much has been going on, but let’s not dwell. As of Thursday morning–fingers crossed and all that–we will own our 107-year-old house, which we adore. I want new outdoor furniture to go with the new big screen inside. Oh, and new flooring for the kitchen, and for the bathroom, and, and, and this is what happens when you own a home, isn’t it? You just want to redo things and add things and, PAINT, and, yeah, it’s going to be fun.

I feel so very adult somehow.

A link to tide you over until I can muster up a hangovers post: The Tiny Girl at BoingBoing. The photo is Freaking Me Out.

I was going to do the library meme-fication, but I think I’ll save that for next week when people are around. Our third wedding anniversary is Monday, and, just out of curiosity, I thought I’d see what the gift industry has decided an appropriate gift would be.

Turns out that the traditional gift is leather (minds out of the gutter, please) and the "modern" one is crystal (as in The Dark?). Anyway, Sheri and Bob Stritof, who clearly know what they’re talking about (ahem), issue some ideas on how to celebrate over at About. My comments in bold:

• Since leather is the traditional gift for this anniversary, consider plan a western themed evening together and listen to country love songs. (Um, while hilarious, NO.)
• Plan a movie night and watch your wedding video. (Don’t have one, so NO.)
• Get tickets for a movie, sports event, concert, theatre, etc. to attend together. (Why, how original! NO.)

But that’s not all they’ve got. Oh no:

Put together a gift basket that has a variety of Fuchsia plants, along with a pair of leather garden gloves, and a coupon on jade green paper stating your willingness to help get the small plants in the soil.

Okay, well, actually it’s my fault I originally misread the first part as a variety of Fuchsia PANTS (it follows from leather), but … NO, we won’t be doing any of this. And I’m a little worried about anyone who does. (Yes, Bob and Sheri, that means you.)

Have a great weekend, everybody — and if you’re expecting a response from me on something, I’m happy to report that The Incredibly Cranky E-Mail Fairy has office hours scheduled this weekend to tackle The Inbox That Ate My Life.

And now we take les dogs to their first obedience class. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

(Actually, Emma knows a lot of it already from a class she did when she was at the shelter, but Puck not so much.)

Updated: And of course Puck did beautifully and Emma was her first-obedience-class, don’t-tell-me-what-to-do stubborn self. (Although she did pretty good too.) But fun!

We were finally eligible for the free cell phone upgrade with a two more years of indentured service plan and they came today. That’s right, people who call us, no more dropped calls (hopefully). Seriously, I dropped Carolyn three times (at least) the other night when we were trying to do Nicola’s podcast.

It had to stop.

Let there be rejoicing.

Also, walking the dogs this week has officially eliminated the Betsy’s Pancake Pounderizing. I think that means artichoke and spinach pizza — with whole wheat crust, natch — for dinner tonight. Oh yes.