A quiet morning here on Carlisle Street. It is soupy humid out. The kind of humid where I put sheets to hang on the line and they just don't dry but stay sort of damp. Georgie seems to have discovered the wonder of her toes recently and is happy to grab them and have her own conversation of gibberish, so I'm perched on the couch and letting her entertain herself.
We might head out to the movies later because I am afraid we could get a bit housebound otherwise. The 'Babes in Arms' session is Eat, Pray, Love, which I don't really have much interest in due to the quasi--not-quite-new-age-self-help nature of the book. It was one of those everyone gushed about because the author went on such a soul searching journey when her marriage broke up. It all sounds rather indulgent if you ask me. But James Franco is in it, so there is that.
I remember Elizabeth Gilbert as a writer for SPIN when I used to subscribe to that in high school and college, before it shrunk and shrunk in size.
We'll see where the day takes us...
- chunkytoast
No comments:
Post a Comment