Wednesday, August 19, 2009

It's Wednesday, So It Must Be 97 Degrees Outdoors...

Last night, as I was getting into bed to read a while before falling asleep (which seems to take a much shorter time than it did twenty years ago!), I realized that my stack of bedtime reading was getting out of hand. So this morning I gritted my teeth, girded my loins (what does that mean exactly?), and started to shelve the bedside leaning tower of light reading.
But where? I realized that every shelf on my bookshelves were not only completely filled ...
...but that books were piled in front of the shelved books ... so I went searching for another place to store my store ...
however, all the limited space on my art supply shelves was already taken up with books, ....
... and even the drawers in all the chests were stacked with books. What's a boy supposed to do?

Then I saw this fabulous photo on Leslie Austin's charming blog, The Bower. I was so excited to find somebody whose bedside reading pile far surpassed my own! All of a sudden, I was no longer alone in the world with more books than shelving!



She also quoted Sydney Smith: "There is no furniture so charming as books ... even if you never open them, or read a single word." I breathed another sigh of relief that Mr. Smith, the noted clergyman and writer understood. What better permission to come than from a man who can actually make poetry from salad dressing ingredients!

Two boiled potatoes strained through a kitchen sieve,
Softness and smoothness to the salad give;
Of mordant mustard take a single spoon,
Distrust the condiment that bites too soon!
Yet deem it not, thou man of taste, a fault
To add a double quantity of salt.
Four times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown,
And twice with vinegar procured from town;
True taste requires it and your poet begs
The pounded yellow of two well-boiled eggs.
Let onion's atoms lurk within the bowl
And, scarce suspected, animate the whole,
And lastly in the flavoured compound toss
A magic spoonful of anchovy sauce.
Oh, great and glorious! Oh, herbaceous meat!
'Twould tempt the dying Anchorite to eat,
Back to the world he'd turn his weary soul
And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl.


So I have decided that, until I am blessed with an 18th century mahogany bookcase to house my written sleeping aids, I shall simply enjoy the stacks of books that are starting to find their way into every room in the place!
Oh! Before I forget - I found this remarkable treasure at 1st Dibs antique center. Isn't it WONDERFUL?! I would love to have room for it (and an extra fifty thousand to buy it!). I think if anybody deserves an art deco ticket booth (easily converted to a mini-bar or sauna!), it would be me! Not to be selfish or self serving you understand - simply because it's only fair.
Speaking of fair. Somebody else actually owns these exquisite painted and silk upholstered Louis XVI Beechwood Fauteuils. If there was fairness, I'd have them in my bedroom - with books stacked under and beside them, of course!
I have known many weavers and spinners in my time. I am so admiring of their work - and patience! I've tried doing both - not my cup of tea. I've also known several people who have raised their own sheep for their wool.

However, I have yet to see a wedding gown made with the luscious strands from a Lincoln Longwool! This spinner/weaver/shepherdess in Lincolnshire had her gown created from her beloved wool ... and I think it's a stunner! Click on the photo to get a really good look-see! (Whoever came up with that expression?)





Well, I must get my day moving along. Since I didn't accomplish shelving my books, I must go on and see what else I can not get accomplished. Perhaps I'll just lay in my plain simple down home everyman bed and ... read one of those books!


Actually, I'm going to finish some art projects ... why don't you go make something beautiful, too!

...Did you notice I got through this entire post without whining like a third grade girl about the heat and humidity and mugginess and unpleasant weather we're having?

♥´¨)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*´¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´♥ Tristan ♥
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