Saturday, December 27, 2008

Finally, finally able to travel by car.
The trick, I've learned, is to get your car wheels
in the grooves on the road, except my car, an 11-year-old
Mazda, rides a little low, and the undercarriage
scrapes the blizzard-buildup between the grooves.
An ungodly racket, as if the bowels of the car
were (are) being gouged out. And we live in a
temperate rain forest. Ha.

I'm enjoying a Kir: white wine, creme de cassis,
a lemon twist. The Fouilly Poussé (which I like to call
"fussy pussy") was a bit sour, thus the rescuing elements
of liqueur and rind.

We went to see Seven Pounds today -- it's okay,
emotionally manipulative, lethargically paced.
My favorite movie of the year is A Christmas Tale, reviewed here
by Citizen K. (I don't do movie reviews.)

Twenty-nine people here tomorrow for a party,
all related to me. Nieces and nephews and brothers-in-law
and great-nieces and great-nephews and a step-niece
and a step-nephew-in-law and two step-great-nephews,
and, oh yes, sisters, many sisters.

I received two books on the art of book-making
for Christmas. Is this a hint? I've already delved
into the elementary first steps of this fading art form,
and it's great fun. The goal is to combine
poetry/collage/line-drawings. We'll see. I'm optimistic.


  1. Oooohhh. I look forward to seeing your books!

  2. One of the parties this year is hosted by a librarian, who teaches now in the Rutgers Information Science program. One of the guests was a new faculty member, who teaches the history of the book. Vaquero talked with her for a long time and has a long list of titles on the history of the book in his moleskinne.

    Book making and book repair and the history of the book -- arts and technology that non-specialistse don't think of that often, but fascinating, nevertheless.

    I keep wanting to write a historical novel with Malory and Caxton as primary figures.

    Love, C.