One of the realities of living on a gravel road is that 'town' is 10 km drive and 'city' is 65 km away. We subsist on dialup internet service, pay a boatload of cash every month for simple phone service, because we are 3.3 km from the nearest paved road and we can get no newspaper delivery. In town we can get the city's paper, but to get the G&M, for example, we have to drive into the city. I like the Globe and Mail because I get to read about big city things, like Life, Style, Fashion, Culture... none of which I have, apparently. I sit at the kitchen table, a clunky wooden thing, intentionally distressed in the factory and unintentionally marked by cat claws, and read a little a day over the week.
I remember a number of spectacular articles from recent years. One, in particular, by Russell Smith, gentleman's fashionista, was about capri pants- the right kind, the best shape of leg, the length.. everything capri. I find myself in a state of puzzlement that ink and paper and time were spent on this. Yet.. here I am, some time later, still thinking about it and writing about it.
Today, I'm in the city, picking up the G&M, doing high speed internet things, thinking I should be at home picking up branches and pine cones and generally being outside on a glorious day. Have to get some kind of regular routine happening again.
OH, and the starlings are now in the attic, having found a HUGE hole behind the eavestroughs. That's also on the Farmer's List.
No comments:
Post a Comment