Little Letters July 2016 ~ or Vacuum Cleaners, Limeade and 90°+

It has been a while since I've written about my life, and so I thought I'd do another "little letters" post to elucidate my state of affairs.

Dear CPU-2T,

I love you. I could just leave it at that, but you deserve more. Your energy, your trim figure, your cheerful color... There is much to admire about you even from a stranger's persepctive, but few can understand the relationship we share. It is unfortunate that there is no legal basis for a marriage with one of your kind. Let me simply say, that there is no one I would rather clean an office with.

There once was an office housekeeper,
Whose vacuum was just a sad peeper.
She was given a CPU
and is no longer blue,
For her new friend's a magnificent sweeper!

Dear Summer,

I have heard you are a pleasant companion in England, Kalaalit Nunaat, and Nova Scotia. There are even some parts of the United States where you are no bad friend. But here, in the Midwest, let me just say that you are abominable. We have had over a month of constant 90°-100° weather, with only half a dozen days of 85° and one blissful weekend of 68°. I. Do. Not. Like. It. I do not like this weather in a box, nor with a fox, nor in a train, nor in the rain (if there's going to be rain it ought to cool the world, not just add to the humidity! One feels cheated!). Please get a hold of yourself.

Dear Limeade,

On these very hot days you are my one consolation (other than my mother, cold black tea, air conditioning, books, and babies). I've never really seen the need for you, since lemonade is so delightful, but when the need arose for a lemon-free and sugar-free drink, I thought I'd give you a try with a bit o' stevia, and voila! You're delicious.

Dear Fleas who reside in the basement,
Get OUT of my house so my poor kitty can come upstairs. You could not be more unwanted if you tried. Just die, every last one of you. (Yes I know I'm a vegetarian and I love killing bugs and I'm a contradiction. Be quiet.)

Dear Tale of Two Cities,

I have heard many poor reviews of your master, Mr. Dickens, but from my personal experience I can now refute them. Your characters are realistic and interesting (with the exception of Lucy Mannette...), your plot is anything but predictable and your writing is witty. Though I am only half done with you, I heartily applaud your maker.

Dear Drama,

It is so strange and sad that this will be my last year acting, and equally strange and exciting that I will get to direct a one-act play. If I could only FIND a one-act play, that is. Directing I'm not worried about, casting I'm just a little nervous for, but finding a script is very trying. 

Dear Breakfast at Tiffany's,

I am so confused. I have so many reactions that I have no idea if I even like you.

My dear, dear, Arthur,

You have reached 91, 530 words, or approximately 366 pages, and yet in all likelihood you will need 8,000 more words before being finished. I am half amazed and half horrified. But there is no "halves" about it when I think of finishing this first draft. Do you believe we've been working together since January 2012? That's over four years. Crazy. There have been ups and downs — goals met and goals failed. Favorite characters who are killed and moments of uncertainty if this work would ever come to fruition. But my dear, I no longer fear that end. 8,000 words seems a large amount to write before I reach the end, but since we've been doing 1000 a day, that's really a very short amount of time.

Dear Future Car,

I would be so pleased, tickled pink even, if you would just get a move on and show up. To say that my sister and I are eager for your arrival is an understatement. 

Dear Tolkien,
I write you yet again because Lord of the Rings is just awesome. The fact that I am STILL reading it, yes, three months after starting it, has nothing to do with the quality of the book. It is neither boring nor hard to read. It is lovely and I regret that I have so little time for pleasure reading, or I might have been finished long ago.

Dear Classics Challenge,
Never mind.

Dear Nineteenth Century,

I love doing school in the summer when it means I get to study history. You're no exception to the fascination I have with bygone eras. Napoleon, Wilberforce, Shaftesbury, Beethoven — and that's just the first half. I am eager to learn more of the second.

Most sincerely,

Am I welcome back?

I was going to say, "welcome back", but then I realized it was not you, but I who have been absent. Well, readers? Am I welcome back? 
To fill you in on some of my life, I'm doing another "little letters" post.

Dear Little Women,

Performance this week? What?! WHAT?! I was not originally not exactly pleased to be performing you, but I shall be very sad when this is over, and very sad to leave Jo March and her friends behind me. And how cool that I've actually gotten to perform you twice, once in one-act form as Amy, and now as a two-hour production as Jo. 

Dear Mozart,

Bach drives me nuts sometimes, I will admit. But you, I am always in good humor with you. Memorization is still kind of scary, but I will not tire of playing your sonatas.

Dear Brownie-in-a-Mug,

Um, you are way too easy. And addicting. I kind of love you, but I don't think you're good for me.

Dear Arthur,

Dear me but I miss you! I enjoy being busy... but our separation can never bring me pleasure. Soon, soon, we shall be together much more often. I have many plans and ideas welling up, meantime, to be  employed in this last sector before the end, or used for second drafts. Be patient, my dear!

Dear Tolkien,

I am LOVING rereading The Hobbit. You are a brilliant author. Brilliant. I eagerly await the reread of The Lord of the Rings, and one day attacking The Silmarillion.

Dear French Language as-a-whole,

Sometimes I think you drive me NUTS. But honestly, it's usually me who is driving me nuts with my inability to hold onto your slippery, vague words. I still think you are as beautiful as when I started. And I have hope that I will conquer you one day. I therefore keep plugging away.

Dear Driving,

As I think that we ought to go back to the horse-and-carriage days, I feel terribly disloyal to myself to enjoy you so much... but I do! In not so very long I shall have my license and not long after that hopefully acquire a car, even if I would rather have a black percheron or a dappled grey mare. P.S. You can stick around a while more, if you want.

Dear Presidential Elections,

All I can say is that it's a good thing I don't put my trust in the human political leader of a human country, because I would be looking at the cost of living in Ireland right now if so. (Actually I'm looking at the cost of living in Ireland already because... Ireland.) If we escape the one guy only for the other, it will be out of the frying pan and into the fire, I'm afraid. Yet my king is unchanging and his kingdom is unaffected by elections. So I do not tremble, for he is quite capable of dealing with whoever ends up the leader of this country.

Dear Opera,

Getting to see a real, full-length production in March was amazing, even if it was technically a dress rehearsal and the auditorium was filled with public-schooled teenagers (no offense to readers who fall in the category, but for we homeschoolers the typical teenager who is not homeschooled is usually quite different from us, and sometimes shocking or frightening). I admit that I didn't love you as much I had imagined in many memories, but it was also pretty cool to get to see you while acting in Little Women, as it was that movie that first gave me the opera bug. Thanks again for your beauty!

Dear Spring,

I end with you, because, although I resented your early coming and cast many longing glances at winter, I thrill to see your arrival made more evident every day. Your flowering trees, early buds, delicate leaves, and abundance of green! The air of one season is not quite like another, however similar the temperature, and I love the smell, feel, and experience of your air. It's lovely, and so are you.

Love,

I say!

That is a quote from a movie I just watched. Actually, it's a quote from a lot of British things, but specifically I'm referring to Jeeves and Wooster, which my dear twin convinced me to watch. Being British, set in the early 20th century, and recommended by her, I naturally enjoyed it.
This is a combo post,  in which I share a few little letters and a few little snippets.

Dear Frances,

Being your aunt is every bit as fun as I thought it would be. Seeing you two days in a row makes me miss you terribly on Thursdays. Please feel free to chew on my shoulder anytime you want. 

Dear Harry Potter,

What?! Done already? And seven books always seemed like so much. They ended better than I could have foreseen.

Dear Jeeves and Wooster,

I've seen less than two episodes yet already a fan. You both can do the best faces. Jeeves... you crack me up with your oh-so-polite persuasion.

Dear Summer,

You're flying by so fast, especially since my last month is filling up already. What with so much traveling, I haven't had a lot of time to really enjoy you. But then, I'll be glad for less heat (thank you for all the rain, though).

Dear Fast-approaching Junior Year,

I'm really looking forward to the fall. Advanced Biology homework? Not so much. Being in my last two years of high school? Aiieee. Drama? Very much so. I really do take pleasure in schoolwork, though the time off in summer is quite necessary. So please come towards me in an unhurried way, but know I shall enjoy you when you do arrive.

Dear French Language,

While being quite beautiful and enjoyable to learn, sometimes the way you work seems illogical. I just don't see why every word has to be female or male (although in the case of animals it is sensible and useful). Nor does it make any sense to me why the entire sentence has to change to plural form if you want to make one word plural. Why can't you just add an "s" to the end of the noun? A few things about you do make more sense than English, I admit, such as having animal nouns be female or male. I suppose I just have to accept the rest.

Dear Arthur,

I'm very glad to be working with you so much these days. We have finished Part One together already. The word count meter currently says 39283 words of 65000, which means I'm supposedly 60% done. What I think it actually means is that this book is going to be longer than 65,000 words! I'm getting very attached to you and all of your friends (and enemies, incidentally). I'm sorry to say you have much to go through before you get through this war; I really do feel bad about those who won't make it with you. You're in a story, though, so it's for the greater good and all that.

Clockwise from bottom left: Merlin, Rayfus, Gwennie, Arthur, Virgil, Vivian, Kay

I'm wary of posting too many snippets from Arthur because if I should publish, I don't want too many spoilers on the internet. That is why I have hesitated from posting any lately. I shall content myself with just a few short ones.

~

Arthur was entirely surrounded by people, like a crowded market day. But this was nothing like market day. The men did not stop to greet him or push past calling their wares or pause to wave at friends. They did not smile. The faces he saw were grim. The voices he heard were screaming. For this was a battle, not a market.

~

Arthur found his arm was bleeding, though he had no memory of being injured. The clatter of metal and the war-cries of desperate men filled his ears, and Arthur was desperate with them, clinging to the hope that Rayfus knew what he was doing.

~

Arthur laughed. Once he laughed once, he laughed again, laughed hard and unstoppably. Even to his own ears, his laugh sounded foreign, loud and empty, not like his usual quiet chuckle. He laughed that strange ringing laugh until he cried, until tears ran down his face and into his untrimmed stubbly beard as unstoppable as his laughter.

~

It felt like someone was pouring a bucket of thin pond slime on top of Arthur’s head; it dripped slowly all the way down his body. The substance was warm, though not unpleasantly so; it rather tickled. He held still with difficulty.

All of the snippets are sad ones today (except for that last one, which is just plain strange).

See you later – or rather, talk to you later (not when you talk to me, since you won't; in fact, it should be "write to you later"). Au revoir!

Little Letters

I've seen this done on several different blogs, and it's a fun way to tell about what's going on in my life right now without writing one long ramble. So I'm doing it!

Dear Howl's Moving Castle,

You captured my interest in the first few pages. I immediately had to get your sequel (which had disappointingly little of Howl in it). I must say, Howl, you really need to act your age. But even though you don't… I'm still hooked.

Dear Harry Potter book series,

You think you're so great. Everyone obsesses about you. Because… you are. (Obviously, since book five is interesting enough that you can keep me from the third Howl's Moving Castle). 

Dear Sewing Machines,

I really wish you worked for me. My hand stitches are just not as neat as yours (even if it is romantic to sew by hand). Get well soon.

Dear Baby Niece,

You are still very unreal to me, as I think you'll stay until you're born (which better be soon! Thursday would be preferable). I'm not yet excited about you – just like I wouldn't be excited if someone offered to take me to Narnia since it's completely fake and impossible. However, I'm sure it will be love at first sight.

Dear baby blanket,

You are taking forever. Get a move on!

Dear Lord of the Rings,

You've recaptured my heart after I searched your pages for food for our Hobbit party (sadly the movie that's roughly based on the Hobbit did not deliver). I foresee myself rewatching your movies and rereading your various books in the future.

Dear Alice in Wonderland radio drama,

I'm still a little skeptical about you, but I think you've got a lot of fun hidden in your microphones and sound effects. Being the Queen of Hearts is simply an honor, and one I trust you shall make very enjoyable.

Dear piano,
You sure can be frustrating… and thrilling… and painful… and everywhere in between. It's been nearly eight years we've been together. You're disgruntling, exacting, stubborn, and wonderful. Let's get through eight more years without killing each other, shall we?

Dear fairy tales,
You know how much I love you, and have always loved you. The castles, the princes, the magic... We've spent a lot of time together, especially in the last semester. You produced White Roses and The Castle of Caliour, while giving me increasing enjoyment through this, and this, and this, to name a few. Please stick around!

Dear writing,
I've had to abandon you for a little while. Other things in my life are more important/more time consuming right now. As soon as I can, we will be reunited. Until then,

Love,

 Lady Awdur