I have been hoarding essays lately, trying to figure out the best way to wax poetic about the latest happy happenings. Instead, how about some photos of cookies and scattered reminiscing?
Gingersnaps are my favorite cookie, without a doubt. I like them stale, with cold milk. I like them warm, with hot tea. I like them small, big, lumpy, covered with crystallized ginger and even the chocolate variety. I am not alone in my love of the gingersnap. My mother — who would buy bags when grocery shopping with her children and allow us to eat them from the cart (before paying! The rebel! We were shocked. And far too excited we were all going to be caught and thrown out.), and Rebilou are also fanatics of the baked good.
So, imagine my delight when I realized my latest knitting project is just the same hue of gingery rust orange. Snap!
This scarf is one of many holiday projects and the details are being kept under lock and key. However, may I instead offer you details about the wildly fabulous Barbara Kingsolver and her new novel, “The Lacuna?”
Did I mention I met Ms. Kingsolver (along with 100 other people in a busy auditorium) last week and managed to ask her a question that made her laugh? Did I also mention that the first 50 pages of “The Lacuna” are heavy and the interviews I heard with Barbara beforehand had me nervous my 12 years of dedicated worship were misplaced? She was just so serious and I was sincerely worried the biologist from Tucson who wrote “Animal Dreams” and “The Poisonwood Bible” had been eaten up by the now super succesful Kentucky best selling author.
Good news. I was wrong. In person? She is witty, funny, tall, slightly awkward and really down to earth. She read her book excerpts with passion and with a faux Mexican accent that made me giggle a bit. She took questions from the audience and deflected silly comments with such grace, everyone was laughing. Also, the book picks up speed quickly and is becoming one of my favorites. I’m having a hard time balancing my daily activities with my hunger for being on the couch, deep in the story of an American boy growing up in Mexico. Of course, that American boy is living in central Mexico and goes to work for Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera.
The dialog is exceptionally good and the manner of telling the story is wonderful. I am inhaling this book, not unlike the way those cookies above quickly disappeared.
The other essays go a bit like this: there are the three quilts waiting for binding, Thanksgiving correspondence in need of stamps, holiday baking planned, an apron to give away thanks to all of your lovely comments, and a community garden begging to be replanted. Also, my Botswanan squash are growing up the side of my house and into my front door. My little home is beginning to resemble a fairy tale. Everyone keeps saying “prune” but the vines are so pretty.
Oh — and that apron. Congrats luck #21, Candace!