Vicki Lane's Blog, page 70

Our Hideous Progeny

                                                                              

An excellent read for this strange, somewhat patched together and unnatural time between Christmas and the New Year.

Set in England of the 1850's, the novel takes inspiration from Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and from the ferment of scientific interest in recently discovered fossils of dinosaurs. A third strand in the tale is the status of women (inferior.) 

The novel's protagonist, another Mary, is a feisty, intelligent woman, a scientist whose work is often preempted by her feckless husband, also a scientist. Oh, and she is the great-niece of Victor Frankenstein himself, and has discovered lost papers of his with information that may, with industry and luck, allow her to repeat his experiment in animating dead flesh.

Challenged by growing poverty, her all but useless husband, an unwelcome and predatory associate, and the strictures imposed upon females, Mary is indomitable. I cheered for her throughout. (She put me in mind of yet another Mary-- Laurie R. King's Mary Russell.)

As the novel reached its climax, I found my sympathies strongly engaged in a rather unexpected quarter--which I can't discuss for fear of spoilers. 

This is an odd but engaging read.

Is That A Frozen Pond?

                                                                                       

Maybe not.

Time Out Of Time

                                                                  

This time between Christmas and New Year's Eve is, in my mind anyway, not a time to be particularly productive but rather a good time to piddle about. New Year's Eve will be spent taking down the tree--it's been some while since we felt like staying up till midnight, much less going out.
So, aside from meals (during which I try to make use of the leftovers from Christmas Day--winter squash soup tonight,) my only self-assigned task is to write some thank you notes. And I turn even that into more piddling about, doing little watercolor experiments on the cards. 
Next year I'll get back to the deep cleaning.

My Favorite Gift--A Story by Josie

This was for me and John from Josie. Here is the illustration and below, on the back, an explanation (artist's statement.)

Her mama said she did it all on her own without asking for spelling help. Her spelling is phonetic and rather Elizabethan in that a given word might have several different spellings..

I love her imagination and description.
This below is a Post-It note she made for John. It's Bailey with claws. Note the characteristic division of sun and sky.

 

It Was Quite a Day

                                                                                                                                                                      

  

                                                                                   

Merry Day!

                                                                                      

                                          May your day be filled with good things!

What, Christmas Eve Already?

                                                                          

 So, for the past several weeks, I've been thinking Christmas was on Tuesday. I rarely look at a calendar and seldom pay attention to the date. Imagine my surprise yesterday morning when I learned the truth--Christmas is on Monday and Ethan and Aileen and their two dogs are arriving today.

It's not a big deal; all the presents are wrapped and under the tree. Aileen is bringing homemade ravioli for the traditional Christmas Eve dinner. I just need to make ambrosia and some cheesecake squares for tomorrow's feast.

There have been Christmases when I was frantically wrapping gifts on Christmas Eve or John was unhappily assembling the Millenium Falcon after the boys had gone to bed. We are older and wiser now, and better prepared.

Many, many years ago, John was doing some last-minute shopping in a big store Asheville and ran into one of our friends who was looking for gifts for his wife and sons. John said the friend had a look of wild-eyed desperation but finally hit upon a solution: he would buy three .22 rifles for gifts so he could get out of there and go home.

                                                    

Bucatini with Salsa Rosa

                                                                                                                                                              

Though I've been accused of chopping up onions and garlic while I decide what I'm fixing for dinner, last night I actually had a plan.                                                                                                                                                              

There was bucatini (hollow spaghetti) at the store for the first time in ages and, in my mind, it was calling for a creamy sauce. So, start the water to boil for the pasta. Now sauté the onions, mushrooms, and garlic in butter, season with salt and mixed Italian herbs, stir in a couple tablespoons of tomato paste then flood the pan with heavy cream and simmer till it becomes the thick creamy sauce of my dreams.

                                                                                       

I stirred in a little fresh spinach  and some red pepper flakes.

                                                                                          

                        Topped with Parmesan and with a spinach/ red pepper salad on the side, it was a satisfying and quick supper. Meatless, but not low calorie, more's the pity. 
We were in need of comfort food--our new dryer is not working, and for a while it seemed that our new oven's electronic controls were possessed by evil spirits. And with family here for Christmas! Arrgh!
But John the hero went to You Tube and found the fix that exorcized the evil spirits. In the oven, at least. The dryer is waiting on a part.

                                                    

OLD WOUNDS Revisited

                                                                           

I blame the Solstice. This somewhat dreamy time had me remembering, or trying to remember odds and ends from years past. And then I began thinking of Old Wounds, probably my most personal book. 
While there's a lot that is fictional--the plot and the people and the relationships, there's much that is based on our first years on the farm. So I re-read it.
I reread stuff all the time. And while I was writing this one, I read it over and over. But a lot of time has passed and I found myself caught up in the story, even as I nodded each time I saw words in a character's mouth and remembered where they'd come from. Elizabeth's mother's complaint about the outhouse, for instance, is a word for word quote from my own mother.
Elizabeth and her daughter Rosemary are great readers and oddly enough, they love the same books I do. (At the beginning of the book Rosemay is reading The Dark Is Rising, which I just finished rereading.)
It's been quite a while since I last read Old Wounds--long enough that I'd actually forgotten the identity of the killer. Looking back, I'm amazed that I managed such a convoluted plot. 
And I was amused to see that the irrepressible young Laurel has a lot in common with Josie--who didn't show up till about ten years after the book was published.
I was less amused to see that in one chapter I had called the county seat of Elizabeth's Marshall County Ridley instead of Ransom. This, after multiple times proofreading. And a professional copyeditor.
Still and all, I'm right proud of this one--if only for my own entertainment. Write the book you want to read, is advice given to writers. And I evidently did.

Winter Solstice

                                                                                

The Winter Solstice always seems to me like the real beginning of a new year. The sunrise, hidden amidst the trees on the ridge to the right, has gone as far south as it can. Tomorrow will begin the long trek north. Spring Equinox will find sunrise due east, in the center of my horizon, and it will continue moving to the left till it's behind another clump of trees.
But for now, I'm celebrating the Return of the Light. Amidst all the chaos and clamor of our world, the Winter Solstice seems like an eternal verity.