Sunday afternoon 15 February 2009
This morning we got dressed more conventionally for 2009 and drove down to Beach Haven to attend Communion. Afterwards we had a pleasant drive back up the Island to Barnegat Light, went up the lighthouse and had tea at the cafe near there. Jessy apologised for her self-indulgence last night. 'I don't know what came over me,' she said sheepishly.
I made a laugh. 'Oh, I think I know what came... over you.'
She blushed. 'Well....'
'Be sure to change the sheets before we leave tomorrow,' I said.
She nodded at once. 'Of course.' Then she giggled. 'But... I still have tonight....'
I batted her arm in the car.
We drove off the Island and went to Target, picking up some stuff for our dinner, and then drove down Route 9 to the end of Dock Road which is one of the places Daddy often takes us. There is a boat-launch ramp there and a bit of a playground as well as a very odd, large house made of plain construction plywood finished in fiberglass resin. Daddy has pointed out that this is typical of house-builders round this area who do not understand the properties of fiberglass products. The resin will not stick long to plain plywood, and the sunlight breaks it down. Now it is clear that the plywood is falling apart. I do not know how much this person paid for a house that surely would be 2 million dollars on the Island beachfront, but the house which once made an interesting artistic statement now looks like an expensive and stupid mistake. Anyway we took some pictures of ourselves in front of it.
Back at the house I wanted to get into my Colonial clothes again. Jessy went up stairs first and by the time I came up to the room she was stark naked and enjoying herself on her bed. I do not think she saw me and I just backed out and left her to her reverie. I suppose I should not say this, but I do envy her sometimes. Although she is undeniably brilliant, well-educated, intellectual, and absolutely virtuous, she also has a completely pure, open, innocent view of just about everything, as though she has nothing to hide. Of course she would never do this in front of our parents, nor even J.J., being her sisters little Lisa and I have got an eyeful (and an earful) of her more than we'd care to. In respect to Jessy we just tolerate it. Jessy is only discovering herself in about the healthiest way she ever could. Who are any of us to tell her it's inappropriate?
I know I should not envy her because I can just as easily indulge myself in the same sort of way. But I confess it does not come easily for me. (Maybe that's a bad choice of words!) I too often find something to think about that takes me out of the mood. I have been asked (mostly online, but elsewhere too) what I think about when I'm doing it. Well, I really don't fantasise like that. I mostly think about what it feels like to be doing it, and I'm doing it, so it feels great... and so on.
Maybe it's just me... but I really do not understand why it is such an issue with some people. Maybe it's just an issue with me... I don't know.
Thinking this way put me in the mood for something else. Jessy (when she revived) and I discovered Mother's DVD of 'Bridget Jones' Diary' and we put that in and curled up in a blanket to watch. I was still in my Colonial gear-- somewhat apropos as the film is a deliberate throwback to things like 'Pride and Prejudice' (witness the romantic lead's name, 'Darcy', also the place where she works is called Pemberley, which is Darcy's estate in 'P & P', also consider the whole conflict of the plot that Darcy is the best 'catch' for the heroine but out of her own pride, or prejudice, she spends too much energy hating him first, etc., etc.). We all know 'P & P' is the best chick lit and best chick film in all history. Sadly it was not here at the beach house and 'Diary' would suffice. Jessy had on just her shift and socks and was probably more comfortable than I was in my bodice and stays, etc., but when she started toying with herself again I had to ask her to refrain. I just did not want to be snuggled under the same blanket and have her doing that. Fortunately she understood.
Actually 'Diary' is not very sexy at all and little about it put me into the same sort of mood... so leaving her to prepare a supper for us I went up stairs, got out of most of my gear, and took care of myself... and I didn't let her know.
...
Showing posts with label literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label literature. Show all posts
21 February 2009
Olden days at the beach
Saturday 14 February 2009
This is St Valentine's Day but neither Jessy nor I has a date so we are doing our own thing here at the beach house on Long Beach Island. Last night we slept in our Colonial-costume shifts in our old bedroom here on the third floor. Jessy and I shared a room when we were in England and sharing again with her here reminds me of that. When our classmates, especially the boarding girls, would come over to the house we rented in Norwich, our room was little different than the typical HOH room, with too much of our stuff crowded in and the walls full of posters and photos. This room here is a little more genteel, though it is on the third floor and has a terrific view down the Island and across towards the Bay. That means it's on the cold side, but we weren't chilly last night.
This morning dawned lovely. Down in the kitchen I made a fire and heated water for tea. We made oatmeal and did a bit of homework (meaning Jessy went on the computer) and then we got dressed, in our other Colonial outfits, as we would wear for working at Mommy's 18th-century-themed ice-cream parlour. When the fire was out we went down to the street, and over the dunes to the beach.
Of course this is the off-season and the place was deserted. But it is a Saturday and you'd be surprised how many people eventually turn up. Today was bright and breezy, not quite comfortable enough for no coats, and we wore our long woollen ones with scarves. In our old-fashioned booties and long skirts we were not uncomfortable at all. Luckily we both have experience walking this beach in heels!
It is some blocks up the beach to the street where the ice-cream parlour is. I typed in the pass-codes for the alarm and we went through the whole place, checking up on whatever Daddy said to check up on. The computer here is tied to the same network as the ones at home and the one at the beach house and the ones in Lewes. We sent Daddy a memo on the condition of the store, the ice-cream parlour, and the three apartments, and he responded almost immediately. 'Be careful,' he sent to us.
We typed back, 'We will. We love you!'
It was only eleven then, Jessy had an idea and so we helped ourselves to two books from the store and two chairs from where the outside ones are stored, and we carried it all back up to the beach and situated ourselves there to read. The outside chairs at the ice-cream parlour are authentic wooden ladderbacks with rush seats, precisely what would have been found in a small but tasteful tavern in about 1750. In the beach they sank in pretty far, but again this was no different than we would have done 250 years ago. If we were sitting in chairs on the beach back then, these would have been the chairs we would have had to sit in. So we made do.
In a book we have at the beach house there is a lovely photograph, taken from the top of a water tower, of Beach Haven in about 1880. Whenever we are at this house I can stare at that picture for eons. It's in black-and-white of course, but the houses still look grey and well weathered, surrounded by sandy yards inside paintless picket fences and always with the small barn, like a garage, standing out back for the chickens and pigs. There in the photo is a tavern with a front verandah, the police or lifesavers' station, and the schoolhouse-- how I wish I could have taught there then! It would have been Miss Janine as the school-madam and twelve or fifteen boys and girls, up to about age 13, after which they would have gone to work. I would have taught them spelling and maths and reading and history. Science would have been tending a garden and studying the ocean. People would queue up to use the outhouse. We would have had lunch from a pot on the wood-stove and the elder ones would have helped the little ones. I would have made sure they all washed hands first. The little ones would have naps at 2.00. As it got dark round 4.00 or 4.30, the older boys would sweep the floor and the girls would stack all the books. Then I would let them all go with a kiss on the head and they would run home to tell their parents both of them) all about what they had learnt today.
That's what I dream of when I think about a teaching career. The closest it's ever come to reality for me was when Mother (our young stepmother) home-schooled us when we were still at Lewes. We used to wear these Colonial clothes (even her) and have lunch off the fire, just like that. It was education coming from love... the way it always should be.
Jessy and I sat in our well-settled chairs in the sand and read. I had chosen 'The Lovely Bones'. I have seen it many times but had not got a chance to read it till today. Jessy read a book called 'Everlost'. I have not looked into that one yet, but she keeps telling me about it, so I suppose I shall.
We saw a few people stroll by who waved to us. There was one dog. There really is no ordinance against dogs on the beach in the off-season, but their masters are responsible for cleaning up after them. The one time I have seen a dog leave a mess on the beach, the people were content to leave it there. I was younger then, of course, but I called out to remind them of their responsibility, and the man just said, 'It won't matter much.' I put my hands on my hips and scowled at him till he took a few steps back and kicked sand over the mess. I am sure it really did not matter much after all, but I hate to see people assuming they have some right to be an exception to the rules.
We carried the chairs back to the beach house and sat on the porch there and went on reading. I heated some water, this time on the cooker (stove, sorry) and we sat out there sipping our tea till we were cold enough to go in. Jessy had wanted to go for a ride up the Island, but now she decided on a bath and went up stairs. I put down 'The Lovely Bones' and lay on the sofa in the parlour, with all my Colonial gear on and all the draperies wide open to the ocean sky. I really do think I would like to live here in future. Jessy and I know that Daddy (and Mother too) will eventually agree to endow us each with a house. Between us she and I have decided that she will have Lewes, where Mommy's ashes are interred, and I will have this place. Lisa and J.J. are too young for us to be concerned with them yet, but Jessy and I are agreed that Lisa can have Terncote and J.J. can have... the boat or whatever else. It does not matter what. We'll always have enough room to visit each other and, in the case of this little house, my visitors can stay at the apartments over the ice-cream parlour and the book store. I am sure my husband would not mind living at the beach so much. And if I do not marry, which seems likely anyway, I will grow old here and write my novels like a good little eccentric spinster... like Jane Austen... or Emily Dickinson.
...
This is St Valentine's Day but neither Jessy nor I has a date so we are doing our own thing here at the beach house on Long Beach Island. Last night we slept in our Colonial-costume shifts in our old bedroom here on the third floor. Jessy and I shared a room when we were in England and sharing again with her here reminds me of that. When our classmates, especially the boarding girls, would come over to the house we rented in Norwich, our room was little different than the typical HOH room, with too much of our stuff crowded in and the walls full of posters and photos. This room here is a little more genteel, though it is on the third floor and has a terrific view down the Island and across towards the Bay. That means it's on the cold side, but we weren't chilly last night.
This morning dawned lovely. Down in the kitchen I made a fire and heated water for tea. We made oatmeal and did a bit of homework (meaning Jessy went on the computer) and then we got dressed, in our other Colonial outfits, as we would wear for working at Mommy's 18th-century-themed ice-cream parlour. When the fire was out we went down to the street, and over the dunes to the beach.
Of course this is the off-season and the place was deserted. But it is a Saturday and you'd be surprised how many people eventually turn up. Today was bright and breezy, not quite comfortable enough for no coats, and we wore our long woollen ones with scarves. In our old-fashioned booties and long skirts we were not uncomfortable at all. Luckily we both have experience walking this beach in heels!
It is some blocks up the beach to the street where the ice-cream parlour is. I typed in the pass-codes for the alarm and we went through the whole place, checking up on whatever Daddy said to check up on. The computer here is tied to the same network as the ones at home and the one at the beach house and the ones in Lewes. We sent Daddy a memo on the condition of the store, the ice-cream parlour, and the three apartments, and he responded almost immediately. 'Be careful,' he sent to us.
We typed back, 'We will. We love you!'
It was only eleven then, Jessy had an idea and so we helped ourselves to two books from the store and two chairs from where the outside ones are stored, and we carried it all back up to the beach and situated ourselves there to read. The outside chairs at the ice-cream parlour are authentic wooden ladderbacks with rush seats, precisely what would have been found in a small but tasteful tavern in about 1750. In the beach they sank in pretty far, but again this was no different than we would have done 250 years ago. If we were sitting in chairs on the beach back then, these would have been the chairs we would have had to sit in. So we made do.
In a book we have at the beach house there is a lovely photograph, taken from the top of a water tower, of Beach Haven in about 1880. Whenever we are at this house I can stare at that picture for eons. It's in black-and-white of course, but the houses still look grey and well weathered, surrounded by sandy yards inside paintless picket fences and always with the small barn, like a garage, standing out back for the chickens and pigs. There in the photo is a tavern with a front verandah, the police or lifesavers' station, and the schoolhouse-- how I wish I could have taught there then! It would have been Miss Janine as the school-madam and twelve or fifteen boys and girls, up to about age 13, after which they would have gone to work. I would have taught them spelling and maths and reading and history. Science would have been tending a garden and studying the ocean. People would queue up to use the outhouse. We would have had lunch from a pot on the wood-stove and the elder ones would have helped the little ones. I would have made sure they all washed hands first. The little ones would have naps at 2.00. As it got dark round 4.00 or 4.30, the older boys would sweep the floor and the girls would stack all the books. Then I would let them all go with a kiss on the head and they would run home to tell their parents both of them) all about what they had learnt today.
That's what I dream of when I think about a teaching career. The closest it's ever come to reality for me was when Mother (our young stepmother) home-schooled us when we were still at Lewes. We used to wear these Colonial clothes (even her) and have lunch off the fire, just like that. It was education coming from love... the way it always should be.
Jessy and I sat in our well-settled chairs in the sand and read. I had chosen 'The Lovely Bones'. I have seen it many times but had not got a chance to read it till today. Jessy read a book called 'Everlost'. I have not looked into that one yet, but she keeps telling me about it, so I suppose I shall.
We saw a few people stroll by who waved to us. There was one dog. There really is no ordinance against dogs on the beach in the off-season, but their masters are responsible for cleaning up after them. The one time I have seen a dog leave a mess on the beach, the people were content to leave it there. I was younger then, of course, but I called out to remind them of their responsibility, and the man just said, 'It won't matter much.' I put my hands on my hips and scowled at him till he took a few steps back and kicked sand over the mess. I am sure it really did not matter much after all, but I hate to see people assuming they have some right to be an exception to the rules.
We carried the chairs back to the beach house and sat on the porch there and went on reading. I heated some water, this time on the cooker (stove, sorry) and we sat out there sipping our tea till we were cold enough to go in. Jessy had wanted to go for a ride up the Island, but now she decided on a bath and went up stairs. I put down 'The Lovely Bones' and lay on the sofa in the parlour, with all my Colonial gear on and all the draperies wide open to the ocean sky. I really do think I would like to live here in future. Jessy and I know that Daddy (and Mother too) will eventually agree to endow us each with a house. Between us she and I have decided that she will have Lewes, where Mommy's ashes are interred, and I will have this place. Lisa and J.J. are too young for us to be concerned with them yet, but Jessy and I are agreed that Lisa can have Terncote and J.J. can have... the boat or whatever else. It does not matter what. We'll always have enough room to visit each other and, in the case of this little house, my visitors can stay at the apartments over the ice-cream parlour and the book store. I am sure my husband would not mind living at the beach so much. And if I do not marry, which seems likely anyway, I will grow old here and write my novels like a good little eccentric spinster... like Jane Austen... or Emily Dickinson.
...
12 February 2009
We see into the life of things
Wednesday 11 February 2009
As predicted today was like 65 degrees. This is really frustrating when you have school on a day like this. By the end of fourth period I was devising all these diabolical plans to skip the rest of the school day and go to the beach. Who knows? --there might have been no one at Chincoteague and I might have got to indulge there. Well-- that was not going to happen for three reasons. The first reason is that I had school, and that's still important. The second reason is that nudity is illegal on Virginia public grounds, including beaches. The third reason is that it's this week.
At lunch I talked Jessy into riding up to Chincoteague anyway. Roger met us at the kerb and we got a lot of our homework done on the 30-minute trip. The beach was almost empty-- we saw maybe half a dozen people there, not including in the parking area. We actually took off our shoes and tights and ran down to the water's edge. Of course the water was icy, but that's not why we had to do it. This is February, and we were barefoot on the beach. How much could that EVER be bad?
We had a walk together, up towards the other parking area and then back down to the car. Both of us reached the conclusion that there must be something in heredity, for Daddy has always preferred a walk on the beach too, to clear his head and to gain some new outlook on life. It was from him that I learned the Wordsworth poem commonly known as 'Tintern Abbey' that says the intimate experience of being in a certain place that is special to you will give you a kind of insight on greater things in the greater world:
'While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.'
Wordsworth says he gets this 'power' from the sights and sensations of the beautiful countryside above the Wye river as he accompanies his sister on her first visit there. I have been to where the poet sat when he wrote this and have some idea of how strong the impression must have been on him. My daddy gets the same kind of refreshment from a walk on the beach. I have known him, when we lived at the house at Lewes, and even before, at Long Beach Island, to go out to the beach and merely stand there, or maybe walk a bit, with no destination, as though, like Wordsworth, he is being rejuvenated just by being there. 'Rejuvenated' is a good word-- meaning to have again the spirit of youth. I think that's what Daddy gets-- a kind of spiritual return to his happy younger years, before Christine died, before the band broke up, before he had to worry about family and money and real estate. To him the beach is like a childhood playground he gets to visit all over again.
I have seen my daddy sit on the beach and stare out at the water, completely ignoring any of the people around him (yes even cute girls in bikinis). He does not go to the beach to see the people, but to see the water. And I think I know what that is like. Having grown up no farther than 50 metres from the ocean shore all my life, I know that there is something deeply spiritual, deeply powerful, about the sky and sea and sand together. I can sit there and stare out at the horizon, imagining myself out there, but we know that's impossible-- there really is no horizon. If you were to go there, there would still be another horizon, drawing you farther and farther. Chasing it is in vain. And yet something in me makes me wish I could sail off out there and chase it forever. And that something is what compels me to come to the beach to clear my mind and to look to the future.
Jessy listened to me talking like this and finally said, 'I wish we could go to Surf City this weekend.'
I stopped walking and just looked at her. 'Do you really want to?'
She did not look at me, only down at her feet, and resumed walking. 'If we could.'
I nodded at once. 'I'll ask Daddy when we get home.'
We looked at each other with wide eyes and smiled. After that we walked more quickly back to the car.
Daddy was actually out on some errands, so when we got home I asked our stepmother. 'I think he will worry about you,' she said. 'I will worry about you. Though after this weather today I can't blame you for wanting to be there.' We both looked out the window and commented on it, and then Mother said, 'Ask him when he comes home and see. As long as you phone when you get there.....'
'Yes,' I assured her. So when Daddy got home I asked him. 'Just to see it,' I said. 'Just to walk on the beach. And we can check on anything you want us to....'
He thought for a long moment and then said, 'Well I suppose Roger can make it up there this weekend.'
'No, Daddy,' I said. 'I want to drive myself. Jessy and I want it to just be her and me.'
He looked at me for a long moment. 'Are you sure?'
I nodded, definitely. 'If you think it's all right.'
My daddy thought for a long moment. His next comment was about the ride, the route, taking the Ferry, me driving on my own up the Parkway and having to recognise the right exit.... Then he had a list of things for us to check on, the house, the dinghy under the house, the ice-cream parlour, our uncle's boat laid up at the yacht club.... Then he suggested that we would have to bring warmer winter clothes, that it was by no means certain it would be this warm this weekend. By this time I already knew we were permitted to go.
Tonight after dinner Jessy came in to my room, dressed in socks, a plain pale-blue man's shirt like the one I use for a cover-up, and, I'm pretty sure, nothing else. I had a fire going with almost the last of the hickory logs and was quite cosy myself. 'Do you still have your warm gown?'
I looked up at her. 'My green one?'
She nodded. She had meant my Colonial-era costume which I've had since before we went to England. Mommy used to love 1700s reenactments and got the whole family interested in that time period. In fact after our new stepmother took us out of school, following the Jesus essay fiasco, she and the two of us used to dress like that all the time, holding our lessons and everything else in our very traditional, all-natural-fibre gowns.
'Yes,' I told her. 'Is that what you're thinking for this weekend?'
She smiled at me. 'Apparently it's what you're thinking too,' she said.
I smiled back. 'So... apparently it's what we're doing.'
A whole weekend by ourselves in our Colonial clothes-- unless of course the weather favours sunbathing on the deck. I cannot wait.
...
As predicted today was like 65 degrees. This is really frustrating when you have school on a day like this. By the end of fourth period I was devising all these diabolical plans to skip the rest of the school day and go to the beach. Who knows? --there might have been no one at Chincoteague and I might have got to indulge there. Well-- that was not going to happen for three reasons. The first reason is that I had school, and that's still important. The second reason is that nudity is illegal on Virginia public grounds, including beaches. The third reason is that it's this week.
At lunch I talked Jessy into riding up to Chincoteague anyway. Roger met us at the kerb and we got a lot of our homework done on the 30-minute trip. The beach was almost empty-- we saw maybe half a dozen people there, not including in the parking area. We actually took off our shoes and tights and ran down to the water's edge. Of course the water was icy, but that's not why we had to do it. This is February, and we were barefoot on the beach. How much could that EVER be bad?
We had a walk together, up towards the other parking area and then back down to the car. Both of us reached the conclusion that there must be something in heredity, for Daddy has always preferred a walk on the beach too, to clear his head and to gain some new outlook on life. It was from him that I learned the Wordsworth poem commonly known as 'Tintern Abbey' that says the intimate experience of being in a certain place that is special to you will give you a kind of insight on greater things in the greater world:
'While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.'
Wordsworth says he gets this 'power' from the sights and sensations of the beautiful countryside above the Wye river as he accompanies his sister on her first visit there. I have been to where the poet sat when he wrote this and have some idea of how strong the impression must have been on him. My daddy gets the same kind of refreshment from a walk on the beach. I have known him, when we lived at the house at Lewes, and even before, at Long Beach Island, to go out to the beach and merely stand there, or maybe walk a bit, with no destination, as though, like Wordsworth, he is being rejuvenated just by being there. 'Rejuvenated' is a good word-- meaning to have again the spirit of youth. I think that's what Daddy gets-- a kind of spiritual return to his happy younger years, before Christine died, before the band broke up, before he had to worry about family and money and real estate. To him the beach is like a childhood playground he gets to visit all over again.
I have seen my daddy sit on the beach and stare out at the water, completely ignoring any of the people around him (yes even cute girls in bikinis). He does not go to the beach to see the people, but to see the water. And I think I know what that is like. Having grown up no farther than 50 metres from the ocean shore all my life, I know that there is something deeply spiritual, deeply powerful, about the sky and sea and sand together. I can sit there and stare out at the horizon, imagining myself out there, but we know that's impossible-- there really is no horizon. If you were to go there, there would still be another horizon, drawing you farther and farther. Chasing it is in vain. And yet something in me makes me wish I could sail off out there and chase it forever. And that something is what compels me to come to the beach to clear my mind and to look to the future.
Jessy listened to me talking like this and finally said, 'I wish we could go to Surf City this weekend.'
I stopped walking and just looked at her. 'Do you really want to?'
She did not look at me, only down at her feet, and resumed walking. 'If we could.'
I nodded at once. 'I'll ask Daddy when we get home.'
We looked at each other with wide eyes and smiled. After that we walked more quickly back to the car.
Daddy was actually out on some errands, so when we got home I asked our stepmother. 'I think he will worry about you,' she said. 'I will worry about you. Though after this weather today I can't blame you for wanting to be there.' We both looked out the window and commented on it, and then Mother said, 'Ask him when he comes home and see. As long as you phone when you get there.....'
'Yes,' I assured her. So when Daddy got home I asked him. 'Just to see it,' I said. 'Just to walk on the beach. And we can check on anything you want us to....'
He thought for a long moment and then said, 'Well I suppose Roger can make it up there this weekend.'
'No, Daddy,' I said. 'I want to drive myself. Jessy and I want it to just be her and me.'
He looked at me for a long moment. 'Are you sure?'
I nodded, definitely. 'If you think it's all right.'
My daddy thought for a long moment. His next comment was about the ride, the route, taking the Ferry, me driving on my own up the Parkway and having to recognise the right exit.... Then he had a list of things for us to check on, the house, the dinghy under the house, the ice-cream parlour, our uncle's boat laid up at the yacht club.... Then he suggested that we would have to bring warmer winter clothes, that it was by no means certain it would be this warm this weekend. By this time I already knew we were permitted to go.
Tonight after dinner Jessy came in to my room, dressed in socks, a plain pale-blue man's shirt like the one I use for a cover-up, and, I'm pretty sure, nothing else. I had a fire going with almost the last of the hickory logs and was quite cosy myself. 'Do you still have your warm gown?'
I looked up at her. 'My green one?'
She nodded. She had meant my Colonial-era costume which I've had since before we went to England. Mommy used to love 1700s reenactments and got the whole family interested in that time period. In fact after our new stepmother took us out of school, following the Jesus essay fiasco, she and the two of us used to dress like that all the time, holding our lessons and everything else in our very traditional, all-natural-fibre gowns.
'Yes,' I told her. 'Is that what you're thinking for this weekend?'
She smiled at me. 'Apparently it's what you're thinking too,' she said.
I smiled back. 'So... apparently it's what we're doing.'
A whole weekend by ourselves in our Colonial clothes-- unless of course the weather favours sunbathing on the deck. I cannot wait.
...
30 December 2008
Stephanie Meyer is a vegetarian!
Monday 29 December
Jessy has been reading the 'Twilight' series of books, basically because everyone else she knows in 10th grade has been too, so that means I have had to read the books to see what they are about. I have read 'Twilight' and 'New Moon' so far. I cannot say I like the stories nor can I say I agree with what all the fuss is about. But of course I won't turn down a chance to go to the movies.
This afternoon Mother, Jessy and I rode in the green Cadillac with Roger driving of course, down to Lynnhaven Mall in VB where we watched 'Twilight'. For Jessy and me it was the 2nd time. For Mother it was the first. We have not had many chances to go out with just her, like this, just the three of us as though we are all just girls hanging out. Jessy and I wore skirts and tights and I wore my new short leather patchwork jacket over a pink sweater. Mother, who is normally never anxious about her appearance or how she dresses, was in her room about an hour before she descended, in a very cute glen plaid skirt and navy tights and a charcoal-grey sweater with a pink-grey-gold scarf tied round it, very chic yet conservative, sensible and good-looking-- she looked like a maturely-dressed 18-year-old. Being shorter than both of us she gets that a lot, you know.
'You look terrific!' Jessy said as she stepped down to the front hall.
Lisa came out to the hall to see her too. 'Oo, pretty,' she said, and Mother stooped to give her a kiss. 'Can't I go too?'
Jessy and I were shaking our heads. 'No, sweetheart,' Mother told her. 'I'm afraid its a little too gown-up and also scary.' She looked up at us and we nodded again. 'Very scary. I wouldn't want you to have bad dreams.'
'But I wouldn't!'
She so would and all three of us know it!
The ride down was uneventful. I had heard on Stardate on the radio that Venus, Mars and Jupiter were all visible at about-- yes, wait for it-- twilight, so as we got onto the middle of the bridge we were able to see them all. There was Venus, just above and to the left of the moon, and Mars and Jupiter down low, just as Sandy Wood on Stardate had said. To me that was kind of worth the whole boring ride down. Otherwise all we had to pay attention to was Jessy rattling incessantly about the 'Twilight' story in the hopes of enlightening Mother, who otherwise knew little about it.
At the mall we bought tickets first and then sat for tea till about 7.00. No one presumed that Mother was our stepmother. I am sure no one had any reason to believe she was much over 18 or 19. In the cinema we all sat together in the centre of the row in our skirts with our soda cups. Of course the only boys there were on dates with girls and so Jessy had no one to 'scope out'. Mother only giggled at her.
As I said I am not the biggest fan of the 'Twilight' series of books, mainly because I dislike the character of Bella. She is NOT the kind of person I would hang out with, being too quiet, too brooding, and too reluctant to extend herself a little, grow, change, experience something new. She acts like everyone is beneath her and sort of revels in her status as someone from somewhere else. The vampire guy seems to play straight into her grasp and indeed nearly sacrifices himself for her. The story reminds me of 'Message in a Bottle', the movie that Daddy liked with Kevin Costner as a guy who restores an old sailboat and ends up dying at the end for no good reason. It's a weak story by Nicholas Sparks (who seems to write nothing but weak, artificially-contrived plots) that is weak in the same way 'Twilight' is. Half of what the characters 'have to' be isn't anything they have to be. It's as though they make stupid, irrational choices and then claim it's what they 'have to' do. As a work of literature it is a storyline that depends on perception and feelings, not facts and common sense. Or, as Mother says, it's 'Romantic', as in the 'big-R' philosophical sense. Who would WANT to fall in love with a vampire? You'd have nothing in common. Bella falls for the vampire guy because she doesn't know anyone else and is willing, at 17 years old, after having known him for only a few weeks, to give her human life to live with the guy forever. I don't know a single girl who would do that at that age (my age) with even the very best choice of men. People really aren't quite that passionate. Ms Meyer counts on her young, mostly-female audience to feel the same irrational things she does in order for it all to work. Unfortunately, they do and so it appears to work.
Maybe that's just me. But however charming that vampire guy is, I wouldn't give up my life just to be with him, especially when I have more sensible options. Then again I thought the ending of 'Pirates'/'At World's End was stupid too. It should have been Jack Sparrow, who deserved no better, to be the new Davy Jones, and the nice blacksmith to end up with the Pearl and the nice wife happily ever after.
I started this to say that Stephanie Meyer, the author, is pictured in the movie ordering a vegetarian salad at the counter of the diner in Forks, Washington. And Bella also orders a vegetarian meal and criticise her father for eating steak. Is this some kind of PETA statement, or just irony in the movie? You decide. I'll stick to 'Gossip Girl' which is just unpretentious enough to get away with being stupid.
...
Jessy has been reading the 'Twilight' series of books, basically because everyone else she knows in 10th grade has been too, so that means I have had to read the books to see what they are about. I have read 'Twilight' and 'New Moon' so far. I cannot say I like the stories nor can I say I agree with what all the fuss is about. But of course I won't turn down a chance to go to the movies.
This afternoon Mother, Jessy and I rode in the green Cadillac with Roger driving of course, down to Lynnhaven Mall in VB where we watched 'Twilight'. For Jessy and me it was the 2nd time. For Mother it was the first. We have not had many chances to go out with just her, like this, just the three of us as though we are all just girls hanging out. Jessy and I wore skirts and tights and I wore my new short leather patchwork jacket over a pink sweater. Mother, who is normally never anxious about her appearance or how she dresses, was in her room about an hour before she descended, in a very cute glen plaid skirt and navy tights and a charcoal-grey sweater with a pink-grey-gold scarf tied round it, very chic yet conservative, sensible and good-looking-- she looked like a maturely-dressed 18-year-old. Being shorter than both of us she gets that a lot, you know.
'You look terrific!' Jessy said as she stepped down to the front hall.
Lisa came out to the hall to see her too. 'Oo, pretty,' she said, and Mother stooped to give her a kiss. 'Can't I go too?'
Jessy and I were shaking our heads. 'No, sweetheart,' Mother told her. 'I'm afraid its a little too gown-up and also scary.' She looked up at us and we nodded again. 'Very scary. I wouldn't want you to have bad dreams.'
'But I wouldn't!'
She so would and all three of us know it!
The ride down was uneventful. I had heard on Stardate on the radio that Venus, Mars and Jupiter were all visible at about-- yes, wait for it-- twilight, so as we got onto the middle of the bridge we were able to see them all. There was Venus, just above and to the left of the moon, and Mars and Jupiter down low, just as Sandy Wood on Stardate had said. To me that was kind of worth the whole boring ride down. Otherwise all we had to pay attention to was Jessy rattling incessantly about the 'Twilight' story in the hopes of enlightening Mother, who otherwise knew little about it.
At the mall we bought tickets first and then sat for tea till about 7.00. No one presumed that Mother was our stepmother. I am sure no one had any reason to believe she was much over 18 or 19. In the cinema we all sat together in the centre of the row in our skirts with our soda cups. Of course the only boys there were on dates with girls and so Jessy had no one to 'scope out'. Mother only giggled at her.
As I said I am not the biggest fan of the 'Twilight' series of books, mainly because I dislike the character of Bella. She is NOT the kind of person I would hang out with, being too quiet, too brooding, and too reluctant to extend herself a little, grow, change, experience something new. She acts like everyone is beneath her and sort of revels in her status as someone from somewhere else. The vampire guy seems to play straight into her grasp and indeed nearly sacrifices himself for her. The story reminds me of 'Message in a Bottle', the movie that Daddy liked with Kevin Costner as a guy who restores an old sailboat and ends up dying at the end for no good reason. It's a weak story by Nicholas Sparks (who seems to write nothing but weak, artificially-contrived plots) that is weak in the same way 'Twilight' is. Half of what the characters 'have to' be isn't anything they have to be. It's as though they make stupid, irrational choices and then claim it's what they 'have to' do. As a work of literature it is a storyline that depends on perception and feelings, not facts and common sense. Or, as Mother says, it's 'Romantic', as in the 'big-R' philosophical sense. Who would WANT to fall in love with a vampire? You'd have nothing in common. Bella falls for the vampire guy because she doesn't know anyone else and is willing, at 17 years old, after having known him for only a few weeks, to give her human life to live with the guy forever. I don't know a single girl who would do that at that age (my age) with even the very best choice of men. People really aren't quite that passionate. Ms Meyer counts on her young, mostly-female audience to feel the same irrational things she does in order for it all to work. Unfortunately, they do and so it appears to work.
Maybe that's just me. But however charming that vampire guy is, I wouldn't give up my life just to be with him, especially when I have more sensible options. Then again I thought the ending of 'Pirates'/'At World's End was stupid too. It should have been Jack Sparrow, who deserved no better, to be the new Davy Jones, and the nice blacksmith to end up with the Pearl and the nice wife happily ever after.
I started this to say that Stephanie Meyer, the author, is pictured in the movie ordering a vegetarian salad at the counter of the diner in Forks, Washington. And Bella also orders a vegetarian meal and criticise her father for eating steak. Is this some kind of PETA statement, or just irony in the movie? You decide. I'll stick to 'Gossip Girl' which is just unpretentious enough to get away with being stupid.
...
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