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Sunday with Kij
Jan. 19th, 2003 03:17 pmMost Sundays, Kij and I call each other at noon. Today we're with each other, which, we agree, is vastly superior.
Breakfast again at Paradise Cafe. I had the dark cherry pancakes, and Kij had the granola with yogurt and a cinnamon roll. The cinnamon roll arrived at our table impaled by a serrated knife, stuck in at a perfect perpendicular angle. We remarked that it looked rather like a stake impaling the heart of a vampire, except that it was oozing cinnamon glaze rather than blood. Probably tasted superior, too.
We spent breakfast talking about books. I asked her what had gotten her on her Fanny Burney binge. I will have to read Evelina. Perhaps I'll try the diaries, too. We discussed the Pullman trilogy, and why she liked them and I didn't--well, actually, I liked them, too, up until the third one. Jane Austen, J.K. Rowling, [Kij here BWAHAHAHA: Peg secretly likes Leonardo deCaprio!}(Peg: gad, a girl can't even take a potty break around here without being slandered. Anyway. . .) We talked about a number of different authors. We agreed that she is much more like to abandon reading a book than I am because there is something in it that irritates her.
I felt a little disquiet, listening to her. Am I too easily satisfied? Am I not a critical enough reader?
We wandered around Borders for awhile, where we chortled over Why Paint Cats: The Ethics of Feline Aesthetics, got some coffee, and came home. I'll be sewing more ribbons on my ribbon coat. We cut a deal that she'll listen to the first hour of the BBC LOTR production, and I'll watch one of the Sharpe (Sean Bean) episodes. Tonight, we'll be brainstorming our novels, and probably split a bottle of champange to toast Tor's acceptance of the Fudoki rewrite.
It's going to be difficult for me to go home again. I've enjoyed my visit so much.
Cheers,
Peg
Breakfast again at Paradise Cafe. I had the dark cherry pancakes, and Kij had the granola with yogurt and a cinnamon roll. The cinnamon roll arrived at our table impaled by a serrated knife, stuck in at a perfect perpendicular angle. We remarked that it looked rather like a stake impaling the heart of a vampire, except that it was oozing cinnamon glaze rather than blood. Probably tasted superior, too.
We spent breakfast talking about books. I asked her what had gotten her on her Fanny Burney binge. I will have to read Evelina. Perhaps I'll try the diaries, too. We discussed the Pullman trilogy, and why she liked them and I didn't--well, actually, I liked them, too, up until the third one. Jane Austen, J.K. Rowling, [Kij here BWAHAHAHA: Peg secretly likes Leonardo deCaprio!}(Peg: gad, a girl can't even take a potty break around here without being slandered. Anyway. . .) We talked about a number of different authors. We agreed that she is much more like to abandon reading a book than I am because there is something in it that irritates her.
I felt a little disquiet, listening to her. Am I too easily satisfied? Am I not a critical enough reader?
We wandered around Borders for awhile, where we chortled over Why Paint Cats: The Ethics of Feline Aesthetics, got some coffee, and came home. I'll be sewing more ribbons on my ribbon coat. We cut a deal that she'll listen to the first hour of the BBC LOTR production, and I'll watch one of the Sharpe (Sean Bean) episodes. Tonight, we'll be brainstorming our novels, and probably split a bottle of champange to toast Tor's acceptance of the Fudoki rewrite.
It's going to be difficult for me to go home again. I've enjoyed my visit so much.
Cheers,
Peg