Week of May 30-June 5
Jun. 5th, 2004 08:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mrissaNo acceptances. No rejections. No requests for rewrites. No friendly howdies. No nothing. What a week. Bleh.
Some few words on Sampo and some insights into it and Thermionic Night and some research reading, and oh, have I blessed the name of Göran Schildt here? I don't think I have. Bless you, Göran Schildt, wherever you are, for you wrote the slim volume Modern Finnish Sculpture, which has the dual purpose of teaching me more about my own books and showing me how very right I have been all along. This is an outstanding feeling: that my insight/intuition was going in the right direction. That all this time and reading and work has been for something. That I am, after all this, a pretty decent person to be writing near-contemporary fantasy novels set in Finland. Who knew?
The art fair and library book sale up in St. Anthony today were outstanding for us: outstanding company, outstanding purchases. We've been in need of some home decoration, and now we will have a good bit more of it. We just kept finding good things. Seriously: we bought everything. Well, not one particular fashion item, but that's![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
porphyrin's rant, not mine. We'll need to visit the frame store soon, but I have no idea what this week will bring and can't commit to it being this week. There was much goodness, though, and Stella and I had salmon calzones from Taste of Scandinavia, and they rocked. My. World. Dill and lemon and cheese and spinach and red pepper and oh. So much goodness in one not-so-small pastry. Must return for more calzone. And lefse wrap. Etc.
Roo greeted us with a big smile and immediately pointed out that "Cookie Monsser" resided on his shirt. Okay then. We're always so glad to see him that it's lovely when he's glad to see us, too. "Because our little Roo knows we love him, and he loves us," I said. "And because we spoil him rotten," the entity known as unGARK said. This, too, is acceptable.
I even got pants. Pants! And you know how pants and I are. Maybe you didn't. But now you do. Pants! I'm telling you, we bought everything. I hope there's not supposed to be any festival left tomorrow, because there's nothing left for you. We own it all now.
My mother is going to laugh her head off at more than one thing we bought, but this is yet another acceptable outcome to the day.
Some few words on Sampo and some insights into it and Thermionic Night and some research reading, and oh, have I blessed the name of Göran Schildt here? I don't think I have. Bless you, Göran Schildt, wherever you are, for you wrote the slim volume Modern Finnish Sculpture, which has the dual purpose of teaching me more about my own books and showing me how very right I have been all along. This is an outstanding feeling: that my insight/intuition was going in the right direction. That all this time and reading and work has been for something. That I am, after all this, a pretty decent person to be writing near-contemporary fantasy novels set in Finland. Who knew?
The art fair and library book sale up in St. Anthony today were outstanding for us: outstanding company, outstanding purchases. We've been in need of some home decoration, and now we will have a good bit more of it. We just kept finding good things. Seriously: we bought everything. Well, not one particular fashion item, but that's
porphyrin's rant, not mine. We'll need to visit the frame store soon, but I have no idea what this week will bring and can't commit to it being this week. There was much goodness, though, and Stella and I had salmon calzones from Taste of Scandinavia, and they rocked. My. World. Dill and lemon and cheese and spinach and red pepper and oh. So much goodness in one not-so-small pastry. Must return for more calzone. And lefse wrap. Etc.Roo greeted us with a big smile and immediately pointed out that "Cookie Monsser" resided on his shirt. Okay then. We're always so glad to see him that it's lovely when he's glad to see us, too. "Because our little Roo knows we love him, and he loves us," I said. "And because we spoil him rotten," the entity known as unGARK said. This, too, is acceptable.
I even got pants. Pants! And you know how pants and I are. Maybe you didn't. But now you do. Pants! I'm telling you, we bought everything. I hope there's not supposed to be any festival left tomorrow, because there's nothing left for you. We own it all now.
My mother is going to laugh her head off at more than one thing we bought, but this is yet another acceptable outcome to the day.
Michigan
Date: 2004-06-06 10:54 am (UTC)--Mark
Re: Michigan
Date: 2004-06-07 06:44 pm (UTC)Vernor's I only ever wanted if I had a tummy ache. It was The Tummy Ache Thing. As a treat, it always fell far short of the mark. Old people (my grandfather, anyway) were always slapping vanilla ice cream into a glass of it and offering it to you for dessert--calling it a Boston cooler. Whatever. Like they've heard of Vernor's in Boston.
It's just... it's nostalgia. You go so long without it. Then you have a glass. Inevitably, you forget not to inhale on your first sip, and burn out your nose with pungent ginger bubbles. The cough syrup taste nearly gags you. Deee-lightful.
I was just curious. I don't think liking Vernor's or not really means anything. Just having an informed opinion at all means you've spent hard time in the state.
Now, Faygo preferences, on the other hand, mean something. I'm just not sure what.
I've never cared for most Michigan foodstuffs. Pasties? Eh. Saunder's Bumpy Cake? Too sweet. Coney Island sauce? No, thanks, really, I'll chew my own meat! Mackinac Island Fudge? Way, way, way too sweet. Uhm... what am I missing? Peg, are you reading this? You're probably my only hope.