I leave for England in less than a month.  I am in the most delicious phase of anticipating the trip, the one where departure is actually in sight.   The next most delicious phase is after you’ve come home and slept a few nights in your own bed. The actual travel is arguably the least fun  Read the Rest…

I got interested in George Orwell because I was looking for something to listen to in the car that was not music—something to give my ears a rest.  At the library I noticed a series of lectures on disc called The World of George Orwell.   I thought, “He has a world?”  Actually we all do,  Read the Rest…

I was going to subtitle this post “The essays of George Orwell” but then no one would read it.  I’m afraid it would have the same result as something Orwell says in Poetry and the Microphone: “Arnold Bennett was hardly exaggerating when he said that in the English-speaking countries the word ‘poetry’ would disperse a  Read the Rest…

Previously on this blog, my neighbor Gwen who knows something about just about everything had fixed my wireless connection (without my interference because I was asked to leave the house) and had cabled my computer up to the TV with the cable that she bought (so as to get the correct one on the first  Read the Rest…

Finally this story can be told.  It should be said at once that the whole business is anti-climactic, but I am going ahead with it.  It begins shortly after Thanksgiving Day when Gwen my neighbor who knows something about just about everything and I were planning our Christmas debauchery, to include a movie, a chicken,  Read the Rest…

Thanks to a chilly morning which got my annual yard sale off to a slow start, I had the leisure to power through the Norton Anthology’s selection of Romantic period essayists, Charles Lamb, William Hazlitt, and Thomas De Quincey.  They were all fond of laudanum (opium dissolved in alcohol) which led the Norton editors to  Read the Rest…

It hit me the other day what I wanted to do for a summer reading project: read The Norton Anthology of English Literature Vol. I and II.  Collective gasp all around.  This venerable collection has been around a long time but I don’t believe anyone has actually read it—certainly not the college students for which  Read the Rest…

Anyone remember my Boar’s Head? The short version is that two years ago The OK Chorale sang “The Boar’s Head Carol” and the kindergarten class of Gail, alto, made a Boar’s Head of paper maché and fabric to use in a processional.  We processed our Boar’s Head laden with cookies instead of “bedecked with bay  Read the Rest…

The Christmas cards have given way to thank you notes.  The transition is easy when one uses blank cards.  Now I am on to the subject of gifts which I described to my friend Nancy who can tell every time I have deconstructed a thought, as fraught.   Gifts can be a mine-field and I’m sure  Read the Rest…

I love being middle-aged, although my friend Nina (rhymes with Dinah) tells me I am only middle-aged if I expect to live 115 years.   I’ll put it like this: the joys of being 57 out-weigh the nuisance of it.  The biggest nuisance is the squadron of odd body parts that twinge and whinge with no  Read the Rest…