cures what ails you

Follow these super easy directions when brain power is low.

I'm home alone. P is galavanting somewhere Out West. I'm feeling quite sorry for myself, as I have a nasty cold. Before you start playing the world's tiniest violin for me, I thought I'd take this opportunity to reflect on the age old tradition of using booze to fix your problems. [Note: To clarify, I do NOT advocate using booze to fix problems other than colds.]

My mother introduced me to the hot toddy one sniffly evening, and I will forever associate it with her compassion for the sick. When I resort to the hot toddy, I know I'm really craving my mom's sympathy. It's a good stand in sometimes.

A hot toddy is one of those old-fashioned, I-just-came-in-from-the-moor comforts (or I imagine I would like one if I had just come in from a moor). When you've got the sniffles and are skulking around in your ancient Irish sweater, you probably need one.  Luckily, I usually always have lemons, honey, whiskey/bourbon, and water on hand.

And so, last night I hunkered down with my hot whiskey, wool sweater, bad tv, and sorry for myself attitude. I didn't feel so lonely anymore. Today, I am fueled on the more modern remedy called Dayquil. It's not as pleasant and I wouldn't mix a hot toddy and a Dayquil, but you do what you must to get by.

xo,
L
P.S. Usher and Jay-Z also like the hot toddy. I think they might be using a metaphor though...

biblophilia

The classic bibliophile is one who loves to read, admire and collect books,
often amassing a large and specialized collection...

L&P like books. One could surmise that P likes them more based on sheer volume, but I think that we actually like them equally; I am just more methodic in book aquisition and ruthless in my willingness to sell back or donate any book that I A: don't deem worth finishing, or B: am embarrassed to display on my bookshelf. I am often ridiculed by family and husband for my aversion to used books, which also helps cut down on the number I possess.

However, quantity is not necessarily the best measure of love is it? Inspired by the recent impending hurricane that never was, I now have a library card, and it is AWESOME. I realize that this will not add any colorful new tomes to my shelves, but I've rediscovered the long-forgotten joy of borrowing a book, and the urgency that a due date instills [Note: I am very law abiding and will do anything to avoid a penalty, even a ten cent late fee.]

I remember that dusty library smell. I remember my favorite spot in the library as a kid: on the floor in front of the shelf of Anne of Green Gables, Madeleine L'Engle, and Nancy Drew mysteries. A few years later in life, I realized I could borrow Teen Beat, which was fantastic since I wasn't allowed to buy Teen Beat.

By golly, the library sure is modern nowadays. I got an email from my library letting me know that my "speed read" book is due tomorrow. I can go to all the museums in Boston for free with the help of my library. I can use a fancy laser gun to check myself out, borrow movies and audiobooks, sit and enjoy the wi-fi on an umbrella-covered patio. My books don't smell like must.

I think Pete is afraid that my library love will eventually lead to the elimination of our ever expanding collection of books. Do not fear, P. I have every intention of amassing a large and specialized collection that I do not have to return. Ever.

xo,
L