keys to the kingdom
Before I show & tell you my keys, I have to show you my shot glass, which was a Christmas present and has lately been put to good use.
What? You didn't know I like to do shots?
I would offer to let you guess what's in there, but I honestly believe no one would ever guess. Kate poured some in at, oh, 9 o'clock this morning and boy was it tasty.
See? You can't. Just give up. It's bacon grease. Don't worry, we weren't doing shots of it. It's just a very convenient holding space for the grease, inbetween its life with the bacon and its life with the French toast.
Also, I love that it's a shot glass/measuring spoon (measuring glass?) with all the delightful connotations that offers of a slightly lush baker. Except that I often forget I own it when I'm baking and it would come in handy.
Okay, my keys in their natural habitat (the bookshelf by the front door).
And a book update:
I love reading classics for the first time as an adult. It's an entirely different world than reading them as a kid or for a high school class. Those early reads are tinged with a sweet nostalgia and all the memories of your first impressions and are dear to your heart. But finding things as an adult? And having that delicious suspense of unfolding a story that's been read thousands of times by others but is completely fresh to you? That happened to me when I finally got around to reading (and appreciating) Tolkien. And George Eliot. And now A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Which, apparently, people are forced to read in high school? Not that there's anything wrong with being forced to read good books in high school, quite the opposite, but reading on your own gives a book so much more freshness and newness and you could imagine you're the first to read it. You don't know how it will turn out. But it's different than reading a newly published book, even one that's come highly recommended. That doesn't have quite the same perfect balance of new and old.
I've been thinking a lot lately about the books we were made to read in high school. I might try to work up a little list and come back with some thoughts on it...
What? You didn't know I like to do shots?
I would offer to let you guess what's in there, but I honestly believe no one would ever guess. Kate poured some in at, oh, 9 o'clock this morning and boy was it tasty.
See? You can't. Just give up. It's bacon grease. Don't worry, we weren't doing shots of it. It's just a very convenient holding space for the grease, inbetween its life with the bacon and its life with the French toast.
Also, I love that it's a shot glass/measuring spoon (measuring glass?) with all the delightful connotations that offers of a slightly lush baker. Except that I often forget I own it when I'm baking and it would come in handy.
Okay, my keys in their natural habitat (the bookshelf by the front door).
And a book update:
I love reading classics for the first time as an adult. It's an entirely different world than reading them as a kid or for a high school class. Those early reads are tinged with a sweet nostalgia and all the memories of your first impressions and are dear to your heart. But finding things as an adult? And having that delicious suspense of unfolding a story that's been read thousands of times by others but is completely fresh to you? That happened to me when I finally got around to reading (and appreciating) Tolkien. And George Eliot. And now A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Which, apparently, people are forced to read in high school? Not that there's anything wrong with being forced to read good books in high school, quite the opposite, but reading on your own gives a book so much more freshness and newness and you could imagine you're the first to read it. You don't know how it will turn out. But it's different than reading a newly published book, even one that's come highly recommended. That doesn't have quite the same perfect balance of new and old.
I've been thinking a lot lately about the books we were made to read in high school. I might try to work up a little list and come back with some thoughts on it...
posted by Jess at 10:49 AM
3 Comments:
So it is possible to appreciate Tolkien if you weren't breastfed it? I didn't even read the Hobbit when I was sposed to in library school (shock, the horrors!).
Love the fact that the natural habitat is up against some books.
I especially love seeing the keys in their natural habitat.
We read a great book called CALL IT SLEEP when I was a senior.
The rest? Fluff and pulp. We did read a Spanish novella, THE BULLFIGHTER, in which the bullfighter dies in the end, of course. But I learned a bit more Spanish from reading a real book vs. the incessant dialogues.
I've always used Buttah Buttah and Mo Buttah to make French Toast.
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