I don't have much to report on the sewing or thoughtful front today as the big people in this house are passing around a flu and it's been my turn.
I should have known I was going to get sick because my dreams, always pretty weird, were particularly intense the night before the sore throat.
For a start I dreamt I divorced my husband, a little vague why, and married instead one of the sewing world's celebrities, one who is not in fact in the market for a wife. Things were going pretty good for the first hour or so, but after we had said all there was to say about interfacing, I called up the person in charge and made arrangements to get my old husband back.
The moral of this, apart from the fact it appears I am a bigger jerk than I thought I was, was that it takes more than buttonholes to hold a relationship together.
My spouse is getting a bit of mileage out of this. I open my eyes in the mornings to "now who are you married to today?"
Listen, that wasn't the really bad nightmare part either. Far worse was I dreamt I was making my next Chanel jacket out of red and yellow plaid acrylic that, get this, I didn't have to quilt to the lining because it came already bonded to a thin layer of foam. I actually thought I was pretty cool with this short cut.
I am lucky my husband didn't divorce me over that one. Imagine.
This sick I laid down for a bit today, deciding that it was not a good idea to cut out my nice silk and cotton when I was so unreliable, and read.
My reading falls into two categories. Real books I read for work and books that I read in the bath, when I am eating dinner alone, and on the treadmill.
I have pretty high standards for these off task books.
They must be written by women if the main character is about women. No explanation necessary.
I like mysteries but should be interested in serious fiction, and I would be if it was more cheerful. I joined a book club while my husband was away this winter and really I had to drop out. All the books were about depressed women, or people with regrets, and there wasn't what I would call page turning plots. And not one of the books was funny. You know even a book about a serious subject can be funny. If I ever join a book club again it has to have a cheerful book policy.
Call me shallow and nail it on the head.
For my vacation reading I have of course read a Diane Mott Davidson, you know those mysteries where she is a caterer - OK if you space them out with other books. She cooks interesting if butter heavy things and there is some snappy dialogue. And I tried one of those knitting novels, Gil McNeil Needles and pearls, which is actually quite well written once you get past the fact that it is sort of a fantasy of what every single pregnant woman wants - other people who cook and bring presents and a man who can do home repairs. Not completely realistic but some humour makes up for that. Light stuff.
I am also reading some Florida mysteries which I am really enjoying because it always thrills me to know what road they are talking about. Amazingly the local branch library gives cards to non residents for $10 for 3 months which to me is another reflection of the absolute generosity of libraries. I might spring for the $40 year membership so I can read their ebooks once I get home and need to be reminded that the sun does shine somewhere.
Now back to my hallucinations.