It's interesting to me that the books I review because I've promised to review them are rarely as promising as they seem. With the exception of The Boys In The Boat and Swimming To Elba, two of my favorite reads for 2013, little else has moved me. I spend hours reading what has arrived, thinking of how to compose a review, and the payoff (boredom mixed with obligation) is not worth the effort. Therefore, I'm planning on reading what I want to read as I purposed in the first place, doubly reinforced when Andi said, "reading what I want to when I want to."
So, that's one respite.
The other respite is from the 102 degree Fahrenheit classroom in which I've been imprisoned the past week, albeit with twenty-nine charming children. Somehow, we've worked through literature and cursive lessons, geometry and games. But, my husband has picked me off the couch each evening a molten lump of lead, so Saturday we went to Oak Brook after Santo's haircut. (I am now being colored a shade named Dark Blonde when I have been a dark brunette since my 20's; the effect over my whitening temples is that of highlights, but life is ever changing, is it not?)
Oak Brook was full of thunder showers dumping on artist's tents, but we dodged puddles and glass flowers to visit our favorite haunts. My husband has had the idea of buying me Fracas ever since he smelled it in a Nieman's catalogue last year, but I wanted to smell Lauder's new Modern Muse first. It practically replicates Narcisco Rodgriguez exactly, so we went back for the Fracas. It is indeed, as so aptly described, a buttery tuberose of many layers, such as the many coats of red over a Ferrari. Delicious stuff, as I find myself feeling toward most of what was born of the late 40's and 50's (note my header picture) even though I'm a child of the 60's.
To continue the classic look I love, we ventured over to MAC for a tube of Ruby Woo and a jar of Blacktrack eye liner. Sadly, Ruby Woo is indeed like "rubbing a rock over one's lips" as one reviewer declared, but the color is that oh-so-hard-to-achieve perfect red. And, Blacktrack kept its course all day as promised, a joy for this contact lens wearer who must endure the extreme temperatures of Illinois in August.
Greatly comforted by these delicacies of beauty, the internal promise to read what I want to read, and the prospect of yet one more day off with the potential of a Hackney burger up North, I am indeed a contented woman. It is the little things which make me happy, and I hope that this weekend you are indulging in a few of yours.