Entryway Update: Deadline Edition.

I have paint in my hair.

That's about all I managed to do, so far, for entry way spring cleaning week, and I'm OK with that.

Painting the closet, I mean, not my hair.

(I just watched Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. I've watched it through twice and once with commentary the past two days. Paint takes a while to dry, you see.)

I didn't get anything done on the exterior of my home.



You see why.

After procrastinating for many days, I finally stuck my ladder inside the tiny closet, took up my paintbrush, reached over my head, and began.

After the first coat, I wondered if someone had installed a light inside.

After the second, I was thinking of how I might not have to.



You see why.

I have to put everything back in, of course, and possibly deal with the mess in the top drawer of this dresser, but not tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps.



You see why.

How I spent my Spring Vacation

We've just had our March break here--for those who don't know--it's a week long break for kids from school from kindergarten to high school --right about this time every year. University students take their break in February.

My husband had the week off, as well, and while some of my daughter's school friends went off to places like Hawaii and Disney World, we stayed home and watched the entire series of Battlestar Galactica for the first time. Wow. That's some good science fiction--which is always, at its very best, social commentary and philosophy all at once.

But the best part --Bear McCreary's music. Nothing moves me to tears so much as music and the music of BSG sent them rolling down my cheeks more than a few times. I always feel terribly silly, crying on cue, as it were, but oh well. What does it really matter if I've been manipulated or not? It's still catharsis.

This piece, as once commenter put it, the "emotional high point" of the last season is brilliant. That's one finely tuned out of tune piano.

Morning Bound Train

Last night, the hubby and I watched "Winter's Bone." Fascinating. Gripping. Desolate. Over-full of silence. Men and women exist in separate worlds, yet a woman needs a man to stand for her. It's a violent, honour bound world. It's a place where too many words can be as unbearable as fists.

There's a moment or two where a band plays. The banjo is so sweet.

I heard this today: and it's nothing like the Ozark music--not really--though it shares the same roots and the same instruments, and even, the same tradition.

But how much more robust.