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mrsbrownIt starts so easily.
I think, "what shall I read? I haven't read Anne of Green Gables for a while, its lovely and peaceful and chirpy" And I start reading my ebook.
And I finish it and start on the next one, Anne of Avonlea. As the week goes on and I read the next one and the next one during the week I start to get nervous.
Yesterday morning in bed I finished Rainbow Valley, and I had the first cry.
Then this morning mr-bassman woke me early by getting out of bed and I started on the non stop, moaning, teary with occasional pauses to cry harder experience that I have every time I read Rilla of Ingleside.
I have to read it in one go and I have to read it on my own. That means staying in bed and pretending that my bladder isn't about to explode, my tea addiction doesn't need feeding and that my blood sugar low is not contributing to my woes.
Unfortunately, because I read it electronically, I can't ignore running out of battery. So I got up, emptied the bladder, drank tea, ate bread, interacted with Rose and settled down with a plugged in pda to recapture the misery. It's not the same, but I've finished it now and I'm still a bit teary. At least I got the worst bit out of the way before the battery died.
I've been contemplating a post this week where I talk about the characters I've identified with and what they've taught me.
I didn't learn anything from the childish Anne, but the grownup Anne takes joy in her life and the now of her children, enjoying them and remembering that they won't stay babies forever (makes me cry). She also seeks out people who understand her and will do anything for them. She's understanding of people's mistakes and sympathises with their point of view.
Horatio Hornblower has the same doubtful voices in his head as I do. And does stuff anyway, really cool stuff. He also takes responsibility for things. Even when problems are obviously not his fault, he asks, "what could I have done to make this thing not happen" He takes that all too seriously of course, but I guess I don't get involved in activities that include people dying.
I play Pollyanna's glad game. I learnt from her grown up version (thankyou project gutenberg) that it wasn't a good idea to evangelise at people about it, so I don't.
Laura Ingalls Wilder showed me the sorts of living conditions that people can happily live in. When I remember that she shared a bed with her sister, that she lived on potatoes and salt pork twice a day for three months, that she sat and made buttonholes for 10 hours a day - gee we have it easy these days!
There must be more, but I have Bash to get ready for. And I haven't told you about my new haircut either!
I think, "what shall I read? I haven't read Anne of Green Gables for a while, its lovely and peaceful and chirpy" And I start reading my ebook.
And I finish it and start on the next one, Anne of Avonlea. As the week goes on and I read the next one and the next one during the week I start to get nervous.
Yesterday morning in bed I finished Rainbow Valley, and I had the first cry.
Then this morning mr-bassman woke me early by getting out of bed and I started on the non stop, moaning, teary with occasional pauses to cry harder experience that I have every time I read Rilla of Ingleside.
I have to read it in one go and I have to read it on my own. That means staying in bed and pretending that my bladder isn't about to explode, my tea addiction doesn't need feeding and that my blood sugar low is not contributing to my woes.
Unfortunately, because I read it electronically, I can't ignore running out of battery. So I got up, emptied the bladder, drank tea, ate bread, interacted with Rose and settled down with a plugged in pda to recapture the misery. It's not the same, but I've finished it now and I'm still a bit teary. At least I got the worst bit out of the way before the battery died.
I've been contemplating a post this week where I talk about the characters I've identified with and what they've taught me.
I didn't learn anything from the childish Anne, but the grownup Anne takes joy in her life and the now of her children, enjoying them and remembering that they won't stay babies forever (makes me cry). She also seeks out people who understand her and will do anything for them. She's understanding of people's mistakes and sympathises with their point of view.
Horatio Hornblower has the same doubtful voices in his head as I do. And does stuff anyway, really cool stuff. He also takes responsibility for things. Even when problems are obviously not his fault, he asks, "what could I have done to make this thing not happen" He takes that all too seriously of course, but I guess I don't get involved in activities that include people dying.
I play Pollyanna's glad game. I learnt from her grown up version (thankyou project gutenberg) that it wasn't a good idea to evangelise at people about it, so I don't.
Laura Ingalls Wilder showed me the sorts of living conditions that people can happily live in. When I remember that she shared a bed with her sister, that she lived on potatoes and salt pork twice a day for three months, that she sat and made buttonholes for 10 hours a day - gee we have it easy these days!
There must be more, but I have Bash to get ready for. And I haven't told you about my new haircut either!
no subject
Date: 2008-05-05 05:06 am (UTC)gee we have it easy these days
There's a collection of her daughter's short stories in which Rose Wilder Lane talks about a conversation between her mother and father, who must have been in their 60s (I think it was about 1920s?) at that point. They were talking about how easy they had it compared to their parents - they had much more mobility and a wider social life as a result, they had electricity, they weren't having to go out and hunt food to make ends meet, they weren't spending three months worth of evenings sorting out seed potatoes - luxury!