![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I always go backwards when I back up
Jan. 9th, 2011 03:58 pmFriday:
The boar's head fest, a biannual renfair-ish dinner and signing of songs in the 1860s medieval-revival church to celebrate the Epiphany. Mom costumed fully a third of attendees, and was approached by another third about commissioning costumes for next time. I wore a very heavy white velvet dress with several feet of train, and a very tall veiled two-pointed hat.
Despite this, REL, Ciro, and I snuck into the basement to investigate the secret passage hidden behind the boiler; you have to squeeze through a tangle of pipes, and then there's a rock staircase hewn into the wall that leads up to a door, which leads to a long dark hall with fans. That's as far as we went this time, due to costumes and lack of flashlights.
Saturday:
I have a head cold again, or I suppose a chest cold, since I am coughing up teaspoons of yellow phlegm.
We hung out with REL's friend Joe and saw True Grit. Given the cold and the fact that I hadn't managed to sleep for a couple of nights, I wasn't able to have thoughts or feelings about anything, and was restricted to admiring the film's accomplishments on a technical level (including dispassionate appraisals of performances and writing). I'll have to watch it again when I'm more cognizant, since I couldn't tell whether I had any emotional connection to the film. In the meantime, I'm willing to give the Coens the benefit of the doubt. They've earned it. As always, a pleasure to revisit the photographic eye of Roger Deakins
Beautiful midlength gray cashmere gloves from Val arrived.
I picked up some overtime on CSPAN, which means I was on deck for coverage the Rep. Giffords shooting. My mom's name is Gabby.
The boar's head fest, a biannual renfair-ish dinner and signing of songs in the 1860s medieval-revival church to celebrate the Epiphany. Mom costumed fully a third of attendees, and was approached by another third about commissioning costumes for next time. I wore a very heavy white velvet dress with several feet of train, and a very tall veiled two-pointed hat.
Despite this, REL, Ciro, and I snuck into the basement to investigate the secret passage hidden behind the boiler; you have to squeeze through a tangle of pipes, and then there's a rock staircase hewn into the wall that leads up to a door, which leads to a long dark hall with fans. That's as far as we went this time, due to costumes and lack of flashlights.
Saturday:
I have a head cold again, or I suppose a chest cold, since I am coughing up teaspoons of yellow phlegm.
We hung out with REL's friend Joe and saw True Grit. Given the cold and the fact that I hadn't managed to sleep for a couple of nights, I wasn't able to have thoughts or feelings about anything, and was restricted to admiring the film's accomplishments on a technical level (including dispassionate appraisals of performances and writing). I'll have to watch it again when I'm more cognizant, since I couldn't tell whether I had any emotional connection to the film. In the meantime, I'm willing to give the Coens the benefit of the doubt. They've earned it. As always, a pleasure to revisit the photographic eye of Roger Deakins
Beautiful midlength gray cashmere gloves from Val arrived.
I picked up some overtime on CSPAN, which means I was on deck for coverage the Rep. Giffords shooting. My mom's name is Gabby.
