Namaste.
Category: quotes
Messing About In Boats
Then [the Rat]held up his forepaw as the Mole stepped gingerly down. “Lean on that!” he said. “Now then, step lively!” and the Mole to his surprise and rapture found himself actually seated in the stern of a real boat.
“This has been a wonderful day!” said he, as the Rat shoved off and took to the sculls again. “Do you know, I’ve never been in a boat before in all my life.”
“What?” cried the Rat, open-mouthed: “Never been in a–you never–well I–what have you been doing, then?”
“Is it so nice as all that?” asked the Mole shyly.
[…] “Nice? It’s the ONLY thing,’ said the Water Rat solemnly, as he leant forward for his stroke. “Believe me, my young friend, there is NOTHING–absolutely nothing–half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.”
(Chapter 1, The Wind in the Willows)
As you can maybe guess, I went out on a boat this weekend. Friends of ours had access to two sweet inflatable kayaks, so we went up to Cutler Reservoir and paddled around in search of birds. Much like Mole, I’d never been in a kayak and I, too, was pretty enraptured.
You can have lunch on a boat!
You can see the waterside flowers on a boat! 
And you can take “so outdoorsy I can’t even stand it!” selfies on a boat:
Back To Work
That’s enough sick time for one week, right? But trying to do work today will probably be like this quote from A.S. Byatt:
She remembered…the phenomenon of the first day’s work on a task. One had to peel one’s mind from its run of preoccupations: coffee to buy, am I in love, the yellow dress needs cleaning, Tim is unhappy, what is wrong with Marcus, how shall I live my life? It took time before the task in hand seemed possible, and more still before it became imperative and obsessive. There had to be a time before thought, a woolgathering time when nothing happened, a time of yawning, of wandering eyes and feet, of reluctance to do what would finally become delightful and energetic.
A.S. Byatt, Still Life (via)
Sick Day
I have a dress finished and ready to show you, but what started as feeling “off” Sunday night turned into full-on fever, chills, and aches by yesterday afternoon. (This morning the chills and fever have stopped, but I’m still taking it easy. Yay for the labor movement getting us sick days!)
Because I can’t get sick without being literary about it, this passage from Little House on the Prairie (where the whole family comes down with malaria) popped into my mind last night:
Laura said she didn’t feel like playing. She was tired and she ached. …Suddenly Laura shivered all over. She shivered so that her teeth rattled in her mouth.
Ma put her hand against Laura’s cheek. “You can’t be cold,” she said. “Your face is as hot as fire.”
Laura felt like crying, but of course she didn’t. Only little babies cried. “I’m hot now. And my back aches.”
Monday: Mountains and Muir
“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.”
-John Muir
I’ve Been Holding Out On You (Again)
If you couldn’t tell from pictures of shared shadows on the Sprial Jetty or a lot of “we” creeping into the weekend reports or even a casual “my boyfriend” thrown into a post about yoga, there’s someone in my life now and he is so great. Let’s call him Doc, because he is this quote from Cannery Row in real life:
Doc would listen to any kind of nonsense and turn it into wisdom. His mind had no horizon–and his sympathy had no warp. He could talk to children, telling them very profound things so that they understood. He lived in a world of wonders, of excitement. He was concupiscent as a rabbit and gentle as hell. Everyone who knew him was indebted to him. And everyone who thought of him thought next, “I really must do something nice for Doc.”
I’m afraid that if I open the floodgates of FEELINGS I will never shut up, so I’ll just say, “Thanks, universe, for letting me meet him. You outdid yourself this time.”
Happy Birthday, Herman Hesse
Happy birthday to proto-hippie Herman Hesse, writer of Siddartha (in 1922!), which gives us this quote:
The world is not imperfect or slowly evolving along a path to perfection. No, it is perfect at every moment, every sin already carries grace in it.
(Via The Writer’s Almanac)
Friday Unrelated Information
1. I should have mentioned yesterday that First Aid Kit, being both Swedish and fond of close harmonies, has an ABBA cover of Chiquitita floating around the interents.
2. Here is something to ponder about the universe supporting one’s decisions:
Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, a chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.
(From W.H. Murray’s The Scottish Himalayan Expedition, 1951)
Happy Birthday, George Orwell
Actually named Eric Blair, author of 1984 and Animal Farm, and giver of this truth:
The great enemy of clear language is insincerity. When there is a gap between one’s real and one’s declared aims, one turns…instinctively to long words and exhausted idioms, like a cuttlefish squirting out ink.
How I Feel About Potato Chips
I bought a bag of Maui onion kettle chips on my last grocery trip and am making alarming progress on it. Last night I was chowing down before dinner, unwilling or unable to stop, and thought of Edmund and the Turkish Delight in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe:
“…this was enchanted Turkish Delight and that anyone who had once tasted it would want more and more of it, and would even, if they were allowed, go on eating it till they killed themselves.
[…] Edmund was already feeling uncomfortable from having eaten too many sweets…But he still wanted to taste that Turkish Delight more than he wanted anything else.”
I think the moral here is don’t buy the bag in the first place.