After thinking little to nothing of Murther and Walking Spirits several years ago--I was sure because Robertson Davies was Beyond me, not because this particular book wasn't a good starting point--I read Rebel Angels in December and loved it, and this morning I finished What's Bred in the Bone, which is even better. I want that painting.
It had bits that I love, that I think more learned fiction readers scoff at but which I eat up, like those in A Prayer for Owen Meany, where all these threads and themes neatly tie together.
There was fictional and actual art history, both of which I enjoy. I love figuring out the iconography of a painting and remember delighting in learning, in ninth grade, how the dog in The Arnolfini Marriage symbolized fidelity. Davies writes faux art history as well. Several years ago at an academic conference on creative vs. academic approaches to English lit, I listened to a presentation of creative art history, a detailed examination of daguerreotypes that existed only in the writer's mind.
I have The Well of Lost Plots and The Lyre of Orpheus--which I bought 13 years ago--waiting for me, but I have my week's Ulysses reading to do.
RDC has a bruise on one arm, acquired somehow while traveling. After we got up this morning he examined a mark I put on his shoulder. "It's almost symmetrical."
I hadn't been thinking of it at the time, but I decided its placement was a little higher the way owls' ears are placed, not quite symmetrically, so they can triangulate the sounds of their prey better. I said, "Symmetry is very important."
RDC said, "It's fearful."
I replied, "No, that's symme-try."
We had to name our pet after someone. Maybe I should have held out for Tennyson.
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Before the family arrove, I bought new towels and actual washcloths, since we had previously had exactly two. Now we're using the new ones, and it's quite a treat to use unshredded, still hemmed towels. I bought periwinkle blue because RDC likes blue and I like periwinkle, and I didn't think we'd have a buddy problem because yellow and green have been his favorite colors before. But this morning we discovered a new fixation for him, the periwinkle blue washcloths. Wonderful.
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We went to Witz, the newish coffeeshop, for breakfast, orange juice and swanky coffee and a blueberry scone (me) and a ham and cheese burrito (him). I finished What's Bred in the Bone and RDC reread part of Foucault's The Order of Things because he just saw Las Menenas at the Prado last week (and the first chapter of Order is about the Velazquez. Someone was playing the grand piano and I am so glad to have a nearby coffee shop. I hope it and Mezcal signal new and better things for the neighborhood.
Just before we left, an old, bent man entered. He carefully stowed his stick in a corner, arranged his jacket over an armchair, dropped a library book in the seat (Ramblin' Man: The Life and Times of Woody Guthrie), and went to the counter to order. Carefully, he carried a plate with a pastry to his table. I fetched his cup full of coffee on its saucer and placed it by him. He thanked me kindly.
Why do I always feel bad about doing that? I am sure he appreciated the gesture and didn't consider me interfering. I think because I really don't want to be stooped and wanting a cane myself.
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To get to Witz, we walked through two and more inches of spring snow! Hooray! The garden is going to go boom. It's a good wet slooshy snow, and around the bases of trees are stains, not from dog pee, but from all the dirt that has accumulated on the trees since the last significant precipitation--months ago--and now rinsed off.
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I went to the gym! Goodness me.
Precor Elliptical: 22'30", 12'30" with two 2-pound weights, warming up to 20/20 incline and 12/20 resistance.
Recline bike, 10' @ level 12.
Hack squats, 3x12 @ 90
Seated weighted calf press, 25 @ 45
Lat pull, 3x10 @ 60 (used to be 70, what a surprise that it's less)
Upright row, 3x16 @ 30
Back extensions to exhaustion
Rotary shoulders, almost none at almost nothing. Jeepers.
Lots of stretching.
I'm going to feel it tomorrow.
