I’m
thinking…
If
you were to ask me why my brothers and I are more often to be found without
shoes than with, I would, no doubt, attempt to convince you that we are part
hobbit. Sadly (or not, depending on your perspective of the matter) in other
respects our feet would be described as quite ordinary as feet go. They are not
of disproportionate size in relation to the rest of us (though, some might
consider that debatable when taking into consideration the long history of
outgrown shoes through the years. However, you might say that point is irrelevant
as the history is not restricted to mere footwear, but also pants and shirts as
well. Apparently it is quite a common affliction, but of it’s being
unremarkable you shall never convince me. What a strange thing is the human child
that one moment it is but a foot or two in length and all of a sudden it is
doubling and tripling in size, with more arms and legs then it knows what to do
with.) That our feet are also free of hair may also be considered a curse or a
blessing. Yet, for all that, a case may be made that our feet were created with
an inordinate preference to remain unburdened by those objects of oppression and
repression: shoes. Through the summer months this preference is indulged
(though frowned upon) by those in higher rank, but come fall and winter, such a
preference becomes highly unacceptable. For while hobbit feet (calling them by
their rightful name) are resistant to such things as cold, sharp objects and
uneven surfaces, adult forces consider the cold winds of fall to be a thing
that feet should not meet unarmed and bare of defenses. Hobbit feet like
nothing better than to wiggle their toes in icy damp grass and skip over mud
puddles, yet those in possession of Hobbit feet must be made to realize that
October is a month for sweaters and not (more is the pity) for bare feet. So,
oh Hobbit feet of mine, resign yourself to imprisonment in the months to come.
However,
I assure you, you will find this imprisonment made much the better upon discovering
the new pair of beautiful vintage heels (that I have yet to find, but I will. I
will) unreservedly yours.
I’m
reading…
Due
to the arrival of books ordered some while ago through interlibrary-loan all
other reading goals have been put on hold until such a time that I finish the
said Agatha Christie’s. For, as I have learned through hard experience,
interlibrary-loans must be returned in state at the end of their designated
time- they wait for no one, not even a very eager reader with several other
books she “must finish first.” When interlibrary-loans make their appearance
they are moved to position one on any reading list.
Rather
obnoxiously large fleece socks, (created, I believe, to be worn in rubber
boots, but as they happen to be the warmest pair in my drawer, they are the
favored ones) which clash, might I add, rather horrendously with my peasant
style blue dress. Thrown over my lap, a pink fuzzy blanket (as with the socks, of
disorientate, rather obnoxious size.) and my hair is pulled together by a (no,
not a silk ribbon, sadly.) but a rubber band.
A
few plans for the rest of the week…
My
plans for this week mostly involve being the most devoted and studious of
students, going to bed and getting up at the approved times and studying very
hard on such subjects as Math and my SAT textbook. I am also considering taking
up this challenge for October that my Mom just told me about, where you write a
post in letter form for every day of the month. Also, Wednesday is Mom’s
birthday, a tremendous occasion for joyous celebration and felicitations. I’m
hoping that my new dress arrives sooner than it’s predicted date (October 8th)
but even if it doesn’t, I’m quite excited for it to come, and as I mentioned
somewhere above, I should rather like to find some lovely vintage heels to go
with.
One
of my favorite things…
Okay,
so I kind of just want to ramble about Doctor Who a little and this seems as
good a place as any? So…yes, I really like Doctor Who now. I was first
attracted to it (as might have been predicted) by yes, the characters. My
favorites are Rory and Amy from season five through their last episode that
aired last week (insert dramatic sobbing). I’ve always loved Rory; he’s the Sam
of Doctor Who. All that is loyal and honest and good, never wavering in his
love of Amy and his resolve to keep her safe forever and always (and sometimes
in the beginning you wonder why) but now that Amy’s full story arch has
finished I’ve come to appreciate her more. Rory has always been and will always
be himself, Rory, dear, lovable, bumbling, adorable Rory, but Amy grew and
matured over her episodes. She went from a still childish girl who was willing
to runaway on her wedding night with the Doctor and travel through time and
space without a thought, to someone who had built a life for herself and Rory
and knew that was the most important thing in the world to her, more important
than adventuring and living out a fairytale. She went from little Amelia Pond,
to Amy Williams, Rory’s wife, who had a life of her own apart from the Doctor,
a life filled like any other with its hardships and troubles but all that was
worth it to her because she had Rory. (I just have a lot of attachment and
ramblings about the Ponds after Saturday’s episode. I…sobbed…) The thing I love
about Doctor Who is that there is so much variation to it. It’s the story of a
madman and a box, that takes him anywhere through time and space and so it’s a
little bit of everything. It has it’s goofy moments (Bowties. Bowties are
cool.), sweet, funny, scary (did I mention the weeping angels. I mean. Scary.)
and just all round fun. Anyways, I’ve probably rambled enough about Doctor Who.
On to the next.
