Darling, let's survive till it's summer
For Valentine's Day, ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rushthatspeaks and I hung out on the talkie window in lieu of having a car and spatch and I went out in the freezing sunset before we lost the light on the slope of the hill we now live on. I photographed moss, sunset, lichen and snow, and he took a picture of me after dinner.
I love the moss that roofs the neighbors' garage. Autolycus in the summer watched the Bird Theater it attracted.
Bracken in miniature in the last of the light.
Taken from Tesla Avenue, which is at a right angle to Edison.
We found some of yesterday's snow! It matched the lichen.
After the walk, after dinner.
Rob has a sinus infection and has been self-medicating with the television comedies of David Croft. So far Hi-de-Hi! (1980–88) has introduced me to some of the most disastrous public speaking since the Market Snodsbury prize-giving, Oh, Doctor Beeching! (1995–97) through the transitive properties of filk earwormed me with music-hall, and I can't believe no one has ever informed me that You Rang, M'Lord? (1988–93) contains, in addition to some surprisingly sharp politics, a fabulous butch. As of the latest episode, she's joined a new golf club, the old one having been stuffy about her plus-fours: "Much younger set. They don't mind girls in the bar, chaps can wear suede shoes, and you don't have to be a gentile."
rushthatspeaks and I hung out on the talkie window in lieu of having a car and spatch and I went out in the freezing sunset before we lost the light on the slope of the hill we now live on. I photographed moss, sunset, lichen and snow, and he took a picture of me after dinner.
I love the moss that roofs the neighbors' garage. Autolycus in the summer watched the Bird Theater it attracted.
Bracken in miniature in the last of the light.
Taken from Tesla Avenue, which is at a right angle to Edison.
We found some of yesterday's snow! It matched the lichen.
After the walk, after dinner.
Rob has a sinus infection and has been self-medicating with the television comedies of David Croft. So far Hi-de-Hi! (1980–88) has introduced me to some of the most disastrous public speaking since the Market Snodsbury prize-giving, Oh, Doctor Beeching! (1995–97) through the transitive properties of filk earwormed me with music-hall, and I can't believe no one has ever informed me that You Rang, M'Lord? (1988–93) contains, in addition to some surprisingly sharp politics, a fabulous butch. As of the latest episode, she's joined a new golf club, the old one having been stuffy about her plus-fours: "Much younger set. They don't mind girls in the bar, chaps can wear suede shoes, and you don't have to be a gentile."
no subject
And it's always, always good to see your face. ... The photos of Cissy (I guess the character's name is?) are excellent! She looks lively, fun.
no subject
Thank you! (The sparkles are some kind of hedge. I am not sure what it's made out of, despite walking past it on a semi-regular basis for more than a year now. Last spring I just kind of glommed onto the lilacs)
And it's always, always good to see your face. ... The photos of Cissy (I guess the character's name is?) are excellent! She looks lively, fun.
She's the elder of the two daughters of the titled family of the upstairs-downstairs set-up, as textually lesbian as the show in 1988 could get away without saying the word (we've already met her flapper femme partner Penelope, who canonically wears the engagement ring passed down from Cissy's late mother—the running gag is not her sexuality, but the fact that her family is chronically oblivious to it), and the only member of her family to show any sense of sociopolitical or even self-awareness; her father thinks she's expressing Bolshevik ideals just to be shocking, but the internet has informed me that she actually ends the series as part of a workers' co-op. She's also just a nice person: Ivy the new maid is constantly warned not to stop in her room as if she were a stereotypical predatory lesbian and in fact she's frank, friendly, and once does Ivy's face for her in a platonically supportive way. Meanwhile her father's having a flagrantly under-the-table affair with the wife of his business rival, her sister's toying with the affections of the footman, and her uncle's fetish for girls in service would be quirkily harmless if he didn't keep getting them pregnant. The worst thing I can say about Cissy is that she seems to enjoy terrible avant-garde poetry. Had I run across the show any time in middle or high school on PBS, she would have been my icon.
*hugs*