Roald Dahl – Without even trying, he’s a prolific children’s writer. James and the Giant Peach, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Fantastic Mr. Fox – the list goes on and on. But, did you know that he’s also got an equally as huge repertoire of really naughty books and gruesome short stories? Neither did I… and now I can’t look at Willy Wonka and Veruca Salt in quite the same way.
Poetry – I’ve really never been a big fan, in any way, shape, or form. But I picked up a copy of Pablo Neruda’s “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair” and had one of those big heart wrenching sighs that makes your toes exhale. He wrote “El Postino” (not the one with Kevin Costner..) which I have yet to see. So really, I guess one of my favourite things isn’t poetry. It never has been. But Pablo Neruda.. he’s not really poetry either.. he’s something else entirely.
Fall – Something I’m completely missing being in India is the turning of the seasons. Seasons change here, just not in the order or in the contrasting nature that I’m used to. All the leaves are currently falling off the trees…into the swimming pool where everyone is trying to escape the 50 degree heat. All of a sudden I’m craving apple cider and cold mountains and big sweaters and brown leather boots and cold air and squash soup. It’s gone from warm to hot to unbearable to.. I don’t know what this is. The closest approximation to Hades that I know exists on our mortal plain. So I’m missing all the things that are as close to polar opposite as I get. Because I don’t much like winter either. *smile*
The Color Green – That dark, not quite forest green that’s associated with riding clubs and members only jackets. I’m completely enamoured with this green carry-on at an unearthly fashionable leather shop – it screams ‘take me around the world with you’. In a British accent no less. Burnished brown and copper are close seconds – but green.. oh green..
Black Sesame Ice cream – Bryan and I went out for Sushi (it gets a capital.. it was that good) and while it was amazing, I have to say the ice cream really was the coup de grace. The color of black speckled wet concrete, with the subtle initial taste of praline and a little bit of milk, into a full bodied cold nutty sesame experience.. I can only hope you can find it somewhere nearby. It would be the perfect accompaniment to lychee martinis and sushi aperitifs. There. I’ve just planned a party for you.
Suntans – There is something inimitably sexy about tan lines. I don’t know what it is – perhaps the connotation of enough time to be idle in the sun (re: rich), or just the healthy glow that it imparts upon anyone and everyone. I spent 75% of my weekend drinking beer and baking in the sun and playing in the pool. It was wonderful. I remembered how I used to be able to spend hours and hours in the pool as a kid, but couldn’t recall exactly what I did. Watching all the young kids at the pool, jumping in and jumping out and splashing and swimming – perhaps youth is what a suntan suggests, the amazing ability to do nothing with all the grave importance of something. And that – that is sexy.
Sunglasses – I’ve figured out what I will hoard. Sunglasses. Big, ungainly, dark, Bardot-esque, Jackie O-ish.. Sunglasses. Those who know me will attest to my love of sun spectacles that cover half my face – there really is something lovely about anonymity and UVA protection all in one. I tried on a million pairs this last week with Bryan alternately laughing or grimacing, and discovered what I really was capable of pulling off. And they’re huge I tell you. Just wait and see. But I will – hoard that is. I know I’ll be fifty bequeathing ten pairs at a time to unsuspecting God-children.
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