Saturday, February 28, 2009

Of Mocha and Friends, Part 2

I love words. I love words and good stories. I love words and good stories in beautiful books.

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Cookbooks are fun. Maybe because of all the pictures. I can imagine myself slicing and dicing, sauteing and simmering those wonderful picture perfect meals for my family. And I can salivate over all the desserts with no regret or fear of weight gain.

Once on the eyes, never on the thighs.

This one's for my SIL--
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If the world is ever completely destroyed by nuclear war or space debris crashing into us, I am convinced these three will survive--roaches, Elvis impersonators, and Hostess Twinkies. But then I would expect true armageddon to occur as the Elvis impersonators and roaches fight over the remaining Twinkies. (I'm really surprised Ray Bradbury or Aldous Huxley never imagined that one.)

I love the way B & N decorates with renderings of classic book covers, especially this one:
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(Yes, I am also a classic movie nerd. And someday you will be too. Imagine life when you reach sixtysomething and Speed 2:Cruise Control is old enough to be considered a classic.)

Can you just hear Max Steiner's Oscar winning theme? I can. In fact, I lit a candle on the shelf just under the poster in honor of that great southern heroine Prissy. You remember Prissy don't you, and her classic line, "But Miz Scahlet, Miz Scahlet, I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' babies."?

B& N also has supplies of all sorts. Scrapbooking and stamping paraphernalia(you get an extra 10 points if you can spell paraphernalia without looking it up).
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And journals and stationery (another extra 10 points if you know the difference between stationery and stationary).
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I can't help but think (while cradling a moleskine notebook in my hand) that this writing tool of legend, this companion of Hemingway and countless other writers and explorers, could help me chronicle my exploits and become a world class writer.

Or not.

I'd probably never have a pencil short enough to fit or sharpened enough to write. I would lay it down somewhere and forget where I put it.

But one can dream . . .

(fade to black, theme from Gone With the Wind swelling to crescendo)

UPDATE: Since writing this I have been outed as a white person. Read here.


Answer to yesterday's quiz:

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