Thursday, March 24, 2011
BOOK TWO (1) epicurious, bjs, bedhead
1. Begin each day by telling yourself: Today I shall be meeting with teachers who do not truly love my lovable children, a husband who does not believe in verbal compliments (except following bjs), sassy clerks at the grocery store, friends who went for lunch and forgot you, a neighbor who built an illegal fence over your property, and a painful sense that your favorite jeans are no longer flattering--all due to the offenders' ignorance of what is good or evil. But for my part I have long perceived the benefits of putting up canning for winter and its smug security (not that I always get it done), the nature of being intimidated by the pilates ladies and their snobbery, and also the nature of the culprit herself, who is my sister (not in the physical sense, but as a fellow creature similarly endowed with bedhead and a share of the divine); therefore none of those things can injure me, for nobody can implicate me in what is degrading. Neither can I be angry with my friend, Lila, or fall foul of her; for she and I were born to work together, like a pasta machine's crank and roller, or like "epicurious" and a good meal. To obstruct each other is against the Domestic Goddesses' Law--and what is getting ticked off going to do to make your static cling go away?