Yesterday was not the sort of day that was conducive to writing. A car was coming for Neil and the lady from the BBC at 2 p.m., and we had to ski over to the main house to say a quick goodbye before he headed off to Tampa. He'll be back this weekend, he thinks. Or something like that. Really, there was chaos. As soon as he'd gone, we made a trip to Hurley for groceries, and there was the Golden Notebook, and pharmacy, and the bank, and the "hippie store," and we had to put some gas in the car. Later, I had a nap while Kathryn went to the Little Bear for Chinese take out. I had an accidental nap. Those happen here. It's not that I didn't work, just that it was intermittent and of the busyness of writing and talking shit out sort. Today, I have to do the other sort. The actual writing sort.
After dinner, and a little Guild Wars 2, we watched Anthony Minghella's Cold Mountain (2003), which, somehow, neither Kathryn nor I had seen. I loved it and was pleased to see that Renée Zellweger won an Oscar for the part of Ruby Thewes. I also began reading Brian Switek's My Beloved Brontosaurus: On the Road With Old Bones, New Science, and Our Favorite Dinosaurs (known on Twitter as @Laelaps, keeps the marvelous blog of the same name). I also managed to finish reading a rather difficult paper, "New dicynodonts (Therapsida, Anomodontia) and updated tetrapod stratigraphy of the Permian Ruhuhu Formation (Songea Group, Ruhuhu Basin) of southern Tanzania."
I have a truly goofy assortment of photos from yesterday (and one from Wednesday), mostly involving cats:
Selwyn takes a bath, a not-so-subtle hint that we need to shake out that rug and mop the salt up off the floor.
Hubero and I.
This should be self explanatory. Note that the "feline containment device" is actually an old spittoon.
This is Philip. Philip's from Ireland. We're not sure he's ever seen this much ice before.
Hubero is getting ready to whip up a culinary masterpiece. Right after he sleeps some more.
I found this article by Bill Moyers last night: "Why Do So Many Young Americans Misunderstand Vaccination?" Moyers writes, "41% of 18- to 29-year-olds think parents should be able to decide whether their child gets vaccinated." And my first reaction was, what the fuck is wrong with you people, you who were born between 1986 and 1997? Is this how computers and the internet "made you smarter"? Seriously? The last time I used this journal to question parental lunacy – "attachment parenting," to be precise – I was told to shut up. I have no intention of shutting up any time soon.
Kathryn is heading to the meat market today, and someplace that sells good produce, and then we'll be pulling the covers up over our heads and sitting out the next snowstorm.
Weather permitting, we'll be traveling back to Providence on Wednesday. There's a Swans show at the Columbus Theater that night, and we have tickets. Then we'll be returning to Woodstock on Thursday, after checking on the apartment, the mail, doing some banking, etc.