Reading: Guidebooks for Russia. I love reading guidebooks. We’ve got three shelves full of them in the living room, of places we’ve been or would like to visit. I love the pictures and illustrated maps in Eyewitness guides, but I love the info in Lonely Planet. Tall Guy’s solution? Buy Lonely Planet and also the Eyewitness Top Ten. More books? Works for me...
I’ve also been catching up on some art reading. ArtNews from June is just full of great articles. I really enjoyed reading about the resurgence of art in Cambodia – the arts were nearly wiped out during Pol Pot’s regime. The reading led me to Seaons of Cambodia, an arts festival in New York, and this article about finding dance again. There was also a timely article on Degas' Little Dancer Aged Fourteen, since I recently read Cathy Marie Buchannan's The Painted Girls.
|check it out on IMDB|
Drinking: Smoothies and iced coffee. And sangria. Homemade by Tall Guy.
Listening to: SwingRadio. It’s hardly ever the wrong time for Glen Miller, but 30s music just feels like hot weather music to me. I picture outdoor band stands and summer nights, slick hair and polka dot dresses gliding around the dance floor. It’s really too hot to listen to much of anything else, except maybe a bit of Phil Phillips – is it ever the wrong time for good guitar?
Browsing: This lovely retelling of John the Baptist and Elise's new Healing Cuisine site. I'm hungry already.
Doing: I’ve been making... a scrapbook! Yes, you read that right. I made a scrapbook. I thought I’d make one for the wedding, and it morphed into a pretty huge book and a great “paper” first anniversary gift for my husband. My hard work and the fact that he had never seen a scrapbook before really upped the wow factor. He loved it, and I loved having a project. I haven't really made anything in a while.
I’ve also been teaching the dog English. Sit. Down. Fetch. Heel. Monosyllabic commands are just better.
Celebrating: Our first anniversary. And finally, finally getting my residency card.
Thinking about: Back to school prep. If only it were cool enough for a kilt and sweater, maybe I would feel excited about this. Instead I just want to crawl into a hole and hide. Or maybe I will just hide out at the beach.