I was wondering what I should wear to the Especial-Tea, so I browsed through my cyber closet and found just the thing! Since I can be a size 8 for the party, if I'd like to, this will be just perfect. I'll be looking for shoes and a hat as well. I can wear any size shoes for the occasion, so sky's the limit! So far, we are three for tea. Looking forward to seeing everyone!
Several weeks ago I ordered The Complete Short Stories of W. Somerset Maugham. It is a boxed set of 2 books printed in 1953. A day or two after I placed my order, Lavinia Ladyslipper ( I love that name!) posted a picture of the same set of books as she wandered about trying to decide what to do on a rainy evening!
It is such fun to see how many of our blogger friends have similar interests. The (correct) order finally arrived yesterday from an independent dealer. They are in wonderful condition. Just a little wear on the box, as the seller advised. Although I've read many of Maugham's short stories, there are several in this set of books that I have not, and many that I have read - and will read again - several times. These are wonderful quiet evening, or rainy day books. They have that wonderful old book smell. A musty mixture of oak bookcase and city library with a hint of Earl Grey. I love the way he writes. He is often very droll. And always very English. A very traveled and observant English. You are reading along with no hint of humor and then there it is. Here is an example from a story in Volume 2 called "A Woman of Fifty":
"Laura has money, Wyman went on. "when they married she furnished the house from cellar to attic in Chicago. It's quite a show place; it's a little masterpiece of hideousness and vulgarity. I never go into the living-room without marvelling at the unerring taste with which she picked out exactly what you'd expect to find in the bridal suite of a second-class hotel in Atlantic City."
Love it.
Although my horoscope said I would run into several unusual people today, I did not. I was really counting on that so I could tell you all about them. Instead, I will leave you with my poem about weekends:
Conflict of Interests
It is difficult to write poetry
On weekends on Florida
House guests sleep soundly
In rooms scattered with sun-block and swimsuits
Their children issue forth, clear-eyed at dawn
Hungry
Not for the words I attempt to write on tranquil mornings,
But for ALPA-BITS poured into a bowl
In no particular order
My dog, until now
A puddle at my feet rises
Ready to lap up fallen vowels and consonants
Soon children are perched all about me
Eating upper case letters punctuated with sliced bananas
And sipping milk from bright plastic mugs
While unwritten verses slip away
Like hummingbirds from my garden
The fleeting dawn turns into day
Illuminating the lanai in prosaic disarray
Chairs strewn about to catch yesterday’s rays
Tabletops brimming
Pool in need of skimming
Damp towels smother the last of my musings
And turn my thoughts to the practical
Cynthia Ann Conciatu 1996
1997 Welaka Humorous Verse Award,
Florida State Poets Association
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