“We wrapped our dreams in words and patterned the words so that they would live forever, unforgettable.” ~ Neil Gaiman
“In books I have traveled, not only to other worlds, but into my own. I learned who I was and who I wanted to be, what I might aspire to, and what I might dare to dream about my world and myself. More powerfully and persuasively than from the “shalt nots” of the Ten Commandments, I learned the difference between good and evil, right and wrong. A Wrinkle in Time described that evil, that wrong, existing in a different dimension from our own. But I felt that I, too, existed much of the time in a different dimension from everyone else I knew. There was waking, and there was sleeping. And then there were books, a kind of parallel universe in which anything might happen and frequently did, a universe in which I might be a newcomer but was never really a stranger. My real, true world. My perfect island.” ~ Anna Quindlen
It’s like a winter seen, scene, whatever, at Wuthering Heights out there. The wind’s got a fair amount of a tenor roar to it. In a way it is soothing, and I very much wish I could stay home today. And the coffee is perfect, and the cat is purring profusely on my lap. She didn’t purr at length like this until her senior years arrived, sometime during the past year. I’m rather fond of it. Her brand of love brings beauty to my solitude. Rosie is good company most of the time, then at other times she makes it clear that she wants me to get my own room. Silly little beastie. Cats are more than headstrong, they are masters, maybe gods, who know exactly how/what reality is, and they generally tend to seek enforcement to make it so. That’s rather unsettling, but demands are luckily scarce. If you know what’s good for you. I can most certainly understand why the Egyptians considered cats to be divine creatures, and why/how the cats liked the idea, so they carry on to this very day. Yeh, I have a god on my lap, and I need to get up and get some more hot coffee. After I step out the be embraced by a tendril or two of this fierce and rather entertaining harsh winter wind. There are stories in that wind, voices on the wind. It will be cold out there. It will be, for a few minutes, Wuthering Heights. And the silly man who writes this blog will not be able to avoid thinking about Catherine. And a hearth. And mead? Yeh, I’m down with that. But right after I step outside I oughtta make it shower time. Hair needs a washin’, don’tcha know, and I want it to be mostly dry by the time I hafta go out and sweep the snow off the car. So for now . . .
“I have dreamt in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind. And this is one: I’m going to tell it – but take care not to smile at any part of it.” ~ Emily Brontë
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously