Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Wuthering Heights
The first chapter of Emily's book is full of a dark, perverse and irresistible humor--Mr. Lockwood fending off the dogs with a poker, the cook restoring order with a frying pan, and Joseph muttering under his breath. And Lockwood's attempt to relate to Heathcliff by comparing their reserved natures, is a compliment to the latter's cultivated inhumanity, but presumptuous in the extreme. Still, it provides continuity, in that Lockwood will return to Wuthering Heights and resume the tale.
Posted by Joanne Cage -- Joanne Cage at 12:01 PM 2 comments
Monday, February 25, 2013
Serendipity
Yesterday I further messed up every closet in the house, looking for more of a certain fabric.
I didn't find it, but I did find two purses, four scarves and a bin full of shoes and boots, all of which I had forgot about.
Posted by Joanne Cage -- Joanne Cage at 1:43 PM 0 comments
Sunday, February 24, 2013
One Of the World's Best Poems
In No Strange Land
The kingdom of God is within you
O world invisible, we view thee,
O world intangible, we touch thee,
O world unknowable, we know thee,
Inapprehensible, we clutch thee!
Does the fish soar to find the ocean,
The eagle plunge to find the air--
That we ask of the stars in motion
If they have rumor of thee there?
Not where the wheeling systems darken,
And our benumbed conceiving soars!--
The drift of pinions, would we hearken,
Beats at our own clay-shuttered doors.
The angels keep their ancient places--
Turn but a stone and start a wing!
'Tis ye, 'tis your estrangèd faces,
That miss the many-splendored thing.
But (when so sad thou canst not sadder)
Cry--and upon thy so sore loss
Shall shine the traffic of Jacob's ladder
Pitched betwixt Heaven and Charing Cross.
Yea, in the night, my Soul, my daughter,
Cry--clinging to Heaven by the hems;
And lo, Christ walking on the water,
Not of Genesareth, but Thames!
By Francis Thompson
*
Detail of a Jacob's Ladder quilt |
Posted by Joanne Cage -- Joanne Cage at 12:42 PM 2 comments
Friday, February 22, 2013
When You Need To Laugh
I think anyone can endure at least five minutes of him before getting tired of laughing.
Posted by Joanne Cage -- Joanne Cage at 1:46 PM 0 comments
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Syndactyly
I have mild incomplete webbing between my long and ring fingers.
But my poor old toes are a different matter. The second and third toes are webbed almost half their length.
Posted by Joanne Cage -- Joanne Cage at 1:49 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
The Way Of All Soaps
Interesting characters have dropped by the wayside: Pamuk dead, William dead, Richard Carlisle cast into outer darkness, Martha Levinson shipped back to the States. No explanation of what ever happened to Drake. Matthew wasn't particularly interesting, but he was cute.
The only interesting new character is Shrimpy, and he's got to leave his gorgeous Highland estate and go to India. (I liked his explanation of what was wrong with his marriage: "I don't like her.")
There was much in Season 3 that one had to overlook, to keep watching the thing. Ethel--probably the most unnecessary character in the whole thing--except for Rose. A tiny spark of light in Episode 7 was Clarkson's attempt to propose to Isobel, and her priceless choice of words to cut him off.
Isobel has provided moments of relief and sense throughout the whole show--"Do you want to go on killing things and eating them?" "Then the war has taught you nothing." "Don't worry about her [the Dowager]--if you had gone, she would have found something else..."
Sibyl is dead, Mary is a widowed mother, and Edith has acquired another dead-end suitor. Bates and Anna are happy, Thomas and O'Brien have had their comeuppance, and Daisy is in the way of being Mr. Mason's heir. Branson is managing Downton Abbey, which bodes pretty well for its future; I can imagine him in the 1960's, maybe, living alone in a run-down castle stuffed with relics of the past.
It's just a play, and it should have ended its run some time ago, before it got boring.
Posted by Joanne Cage -- Joanne Cage at 11:11 AM 2 comments
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Copernicus' 540th Birthday
This is my formula for remembering the U.S. presidents--through Reagan. Then it hit a couple I didn't care to remember:
When Andrew Jackson Married Mrs. Andrew Jackson, Very High Taxes Payable To Federal Public Bureaus Limited Jacksons' Giving Honeymoon Gifts. Andrew's Country Home Cost More, Really, Than Washington Houses Cost. He Read Three Educational Kentucky Journals Nightly, For Curious Reasons.
Posted by Joanne Cage -- Joanne Cage at 9:22 AM 1 comments
Monday, February 18, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Scam City
Yesterday morning the phone rang, and the man said he was with the Medicare office. As always when confronted with Authority, I thought, "What have I done now?"
"We're getting ready to send out the new Medicare cards, and I have to verify your name and address. Are you Joanne R. Cage at [my address]?" etc., until he got to, "What is the name of your bank?"
The key word is morning. Still in my morning fog, I said, "Regions."
"Is that the Regions bank in Leeds, Alabama?"
"Uh huh."
The man said, "We have to be absolutely sure we're sending this card to the correct person. Give me your routing number and account number, printed on the bottom of your check. Do you need a moment to get your checkbook?"
Finally my brain kicked in and began to work.
"Why do I need a new Medicare card?" I asked.
"We're issuing new cards to all seniors entitled before [some date]."
"Well," I said, "you have my address, so you can mail it to me if you want to." And I hung up.
I thought, I need to report this, for the benefit of people who may be even stupider than I am. But I couldn't think where to report it.
Part of me hopes I receive a new Medicare card, proving that I'm not any stupider than average.
*
"New Medicare scheme falsely claims new cards are being issued"
I found this online, so apparently everybody knew about it except me.
Posted by Joanne Cage -- Joanne Cage at 2:13 PM 2 comments
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
For dinner I made what the English call passties. I rolled my biscuit dough out thin, put canned corned beef hash between two layers, pinched the edges together, and baked them brown. They were good, which was a surprise, because my messes don't always turn out so well. They were better than the ones Jenny and I tried to eat in England, not so rich and greasy.
Sunday, I watched "Looking For Lincoln" on PBS, then Downton Abbey episode 6. It seems impossible that next Sunday's episode will be the finale of D.A.'s season 3. Tempus fugit.
As always when studying Lincoln, one is left with contradictory feelings about the man. Lincoln was a lawyer, with a deep respect for legality. He made seemingly contradictory decisions, always based on the law, such as protecting a black woman against the claims of a southern plantation owner by finding that the woman was a legal resident of Illinois, then finding that a slave who had run away to Illinois must be returned because he was "legal property."
Faced with deciding murder charges against a group of more than a hundred American Indians, he had about 30 of them hanged (I'm not certain of these numbers, but the proportions are about right).
Lincoln was also a 19th century white man, with his share of conventional flaws and prejudices. He did not believe that Negroes were mentally and physically equal to whites, but he always said that slavery was wrong.
Doris Kearns Goodwin co-hosted the show, with Henry Lewis Gates, Jr. Goodwin's book, Team of Rivals: The Political Genius Of Abraham Lincoln, was one of the best biographies I've ever read about anybody. It pointed out that Lincoln chose Seward and other political opponents as his closest advisors, because he knew he needed them if he was going to win the war. The PBS program also illustrated this point.
In spite of recognizing his defects and disagreeing with some of his opinions, I am left with admiration for his insight, personality and power in winning the elections and the war, and with profound pity for his personal life. With a contrary wife, the loss of two young children, and a country tearing itself apart, it's no wonder that his originally depressed psyche dropped lower and lower, until the end.
Posted by Joanne Cage -- Joanne Cage at 9:44 PM 1 comments
Labels: Lincoln
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Old Wine In a New Bottle
I bought a new dress. Since it's the first time that has happened in many years, I thought it worth mentioning.
If I had got a 10, the sleeves would be too short.
It's a bit fancy for a dress that may be doomed to hang in the closet until the shoulders are discolored, like several others that I've never worn. It's a little short for an old lady of 156 years, but what the heck.
I can't wait for an excuse to wear it, or at least to try it on. I may have to go get my hair curled and colored first.
More than that, yesterday I ordered a pair of high wedge-heeled black shoes--the only pretty pair of shoes I've seen in years.
Posted by Joanne Cage -- Joanne Cage at 3:23 PM 2 comments
Friday, February 8, 2013
Palm Leaf Quilt
This is the picture Sharon sent me of the quilt I gave her when she and O.B. married. I finally figured out how to save it in my pictures folder. This quilt also appears in one of my sister Susan's Oxmoor House quilt books, in the 80's or 90's.
Posted by Joanne Cage -- Joanne Cage at 12:23 PM 0 comments
Labels: quilt
Thursday, February 7, 2013
New Year's Resolution In February
I'm not exactly sick and tired of waking up in the morning and spending the next two to four hours at the computer. But it slowly dawns on me, that doing so is not the wisest use of my time.
I hereby limit my computer time to one hour in the a.m. and one hour before I go to bed.
Unless I get a good idea for a story. Even then, I won't write for more than two hours a day.
Starting tomorrow.
Posted by Joanne Cage -- Joanne Cage at 11:52 AM 2 comments
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Man In a Short-Sleeved Shirt
A disturbing dream:
This guy kept following me around the house, and I kept yelling at him to get out. I had already succeeded in making all his buddies get out, but he kept grinning and making jokes, while I was trying to lock all the windows. It was an old house with about a hundred windows, with those old-timey latches at the top, and some of the locks were missing. And some of the windows were just glass panels set in that wouldn't open anyway. The man finally left, and I locked the door behind him.
*
I guess the groundhog saw his shadow this morning. But I forget the significance of that. Will spring be late or early?
Four Seasons Miniature Quilt |
Posted by Joanne Cage -- Joanne Cage at 8:45 AM 4 comments