A pot of chicken is on the stove. It's hours past dinner time but the cold makes me do funny things to comfort myself, like decide to make a chicken pot pie at 8:00 p.m. that won't be ready until 10:00 p.m. Clearly I don't follow an eating plan. The life gurus would shame me for such behavior, but I won't care one wit when I'm cozied up with a steaming plate of pie after the family has wandered up to bed.
Through a long trail of this leading to that, I was thinking about mystical, well-written fairy tales so I pulled out my favorite book, Possession, by A.S. Byatt. Your word this week is from that tale:
So the tailor was let in, and there was a strange household. In a rocking chair stood a brilliantly coloured cockerel and his pure white wife. In the fire-corner stood a black-and-white goat, with knobby little horns and eyes like yellow glass, and on the hearth lay a very large cat, a multi-coloured, mazy-patterned brindled cat, that looked up at the little tailor with eyes like cold green jewels, with black slits for pupils. And behind the dining table was a delicate dun cow, with milky breath and a warm wet nose and enormous soft brown eyes. "Good morning," said the tailor to this company, for he believed in good manners, and the creatures were surveying him in a judging and intelligent way.
Tomorrow I'll be traveling to Yale University to see my fellow Smith alum and friend Laurie Ann Guerrero read from her newly published book of Poetry. If you're inclined you can check out where to find her book, and hear about upcoming events on her Facebook page.
See you around word-nerds!