The Friday Muster

I wonder what’s happening with this blog.  It’s not that I’m not up to post-worthy shenanigans.  It’s not that I’m too busy to post.  It’s not that I lost all of my fingertips in a freak taxi door accident.

It’s not just the blog, either; I haven’t been working on my novel, haven’t been journaling, haven’t been corresponding with friends who are kind enough to correspond with me.

I grow half-hearted and dull when I’m not writing regularly.

Not to mention I leave off shaving my legs and wear Uggs far more than I should.

Whatever the reason for my laxness, with Spring creeping the sidewalks of DC, it seems important that I get my act together.

I’ll start slowly with some pictures and short sentences.  Maybe in a week I’ll have worked up to poetry analysis.

A Winter Book



This is the first book I’ve read in a long while that’s utterly swept me away.  I became aware of Winter’s Tale because, of course, a movie adaption has just come out with Colin Farrell in the lead role.  The movie hasn’t gotten favorable reviews, but the book is magnificent.  Mark Helprin’s writing reminds me of Neil Gaiman’s: fantasy, but done subtly.  Good for people like me who are a little shy where heavily “genre-d” fiction is concerned.  The book begins with one story, and then slowly interweaves another story, and then another.  A love story is at the heart, of course.  The prose is beautiful enough that I’ve many times scrambled for a pen while reading so I can underline passage after passage.

Can’t Shake Her


My sister has been here visiting since last Friday.  I’m been showing her around D.C.  We’ve done the great monuments loop, brunched like champions, taken a great many selfies in front of the White House, shopped in Chinatown, gone to several museums, seen both The Grand Budapest Hotel and Divergent, and waited in a half-hour line for Georgetown Cupcake[s].  Tomorrow is more brunch and more shopping at Eastern Market.

My Local Bookstore (at last!)

I found this place randomly while on a walk with Amy this afternoon.


Holly’s Perfect Bookstore Criteria:

1. Walking distance

2. New AND used books in stock (new for gifts, used for myself)

3. Friendly clerks

4. Dim, dusty, pine-scented interior.  Crooked floorboards a plus

5.  Inexpensive.  Prices preferably penciled inside cover flap

6.  A shelf filled with employee favorites.  Can’t trust a bookstore not staffed by readers (see #3)

7.  Two floors, connected by a narrow staircase not conducive to love handles, large purses, and/or hoopskirts

Riverby Books is everything.  I can’t tell you how crushed I was that I didn’t have money on me: “All Books Outside $1.”

Too Delicious to Enjoy Just Once

She was sitting against the glass, gazing soulfully at the hordes of popcorn crunching tourists on the other side of the glass.  My sister the primate lover was taking photo after photo, exclaiming that she’d never gotten so close to a gorilla before.
The gorilla then leaned over and puked her lunch onto the concrete.
She considered the puddle of macerated leaves for a moment,
basked in the horrified shrieks of the tourists,
and quietly gobbled up the leaves once more.
Let’s Read Poetry Again
Spring just begs for poetry.  I’m starting here:
Chrissy Kolaya, a friend and professor at UMM, has just published a collection of poetry.  My copy came today, and I’m already rushing to finish the novel I’m reading so I can start spending evenings saying these poems aloud.
“Many of the truths contained in these documents, and in the poems that they inspire, have to do with the lives of working-class women, then and now. This is perhaps the greatest value of Kolaya’s work – how it serves as a documentary of, and a testament to, the struggles of women to survive, to care for their families, and to achieve some degree of dignity:

Didn’t he know
she just wanted to sit out on the porch
put her feet up
and light up a Viceroy
like a lady?”

(From the Broadstone Books website)


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