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“In Venice you may occasionally see a man thrown forcibly from a bar, all arms and muddled protests, just like in the films; and rollicking are the songs the Venetian students sing, when they have some wine inside them. I once heard a pair of inebriates passing my window at four o’clock on a May morning, and looking out into the Rio San Trovaso I saw them riding by in a gondola. They were sitting on the floor of the boat, drumming on its floor-boards, banging its seats, singing and shouting incoherently at the tops of their thickened voices: but on the poop of the gondola, rowing with an easy, dry, worldly stroke, an elderly grey-haired gondolier propelled them aloofly toward the dawn.” 

This kind of writing (from The World of Venice) is why I love Jan Morris (she has a Tumblr! I am exceedingly excited and fan-girly about this). I saw her speak once at Berkeley years ago, and she was lovely, intensely interesting, and smart as hell. On her recommendation, I’m going to (probably) explore my way through Croatia to Trieste for a day or two while I’m in Venice. Of course, I might not, also.

The last time I was there, I was very blonde.

This is what I will do in Venice:

Read. Walk. Sleep. Eat. Ride boats, lots of them. Drink coffee until it is time to drink wine. Take photographs. (Oh, and write. But do you see how that’s rather low on the list? This will be a real vacation. I swear.)

I leave tomorrow. Expect either radio silence or tons of pictures if the wifi actually works. I almost hope it doesn’t. It would be nice to be disconnected, I think.

* Travel writer Jan Morris has a fascinating backstory — She was born cis-male, and married in 1949, had five children, and then transitioned to female in 1964, when it was a very big deal to do so. Doctors in Britain refused to do the surgery unless she divorced her wife (!), so she went to Morocco for the surgery. Later, they did in fact divorce but remained together, and get this: in 2008, they were legally partnered again when it became legal to do so in a civil partnership. Awwww. She’s 85 now, and she’s one of my heroes.

** I finished my Venice Madness sweater, the one I cast on for ten days ago, in a fit of must-have-black-lace-sweater-for-trip (Rav link). Forgive the poor photos, I’ll try to get better ones in la Serenissima.

So I’ve been having trouble looking at computers and reading lately — just vague, annoying eye strain, but my computer glasses with their four-year old prescription weren’t helping, so I went back to the eye doctor. 

Am I the only one who thinks the whole getting-glasses thing is really woo-woo? I have to tell the doc which image is clearer? Doesn’t she know? I can NEVER tell (and I tell her that). Based on me saying, “Um…maybe the first one? Or maybe the second?”) she writes me a prescription? 

Anyway. I suppose I can accept that. What’s harder to accept is that now I have to wear them all the time I’m in front of a computer or reading. This is, of course, ALL the time. So I need some cute frames. 

Luckily, we live in the future. I got my prescription in my hot little hand, measured my own pupillary distance (because I’m a knitter and I’m good at using a tape measure to measure difficult distances), and ordered a couple of glasses from EyeBuyDirect, hitting a BOGO offer, scoring two pair for $50. Total. Dude, that’s $25 each, including prescription lenses. I love the internet. I ordered some kind of funky ones (I think — I barely remember) because you know what? They were $25. I’ll show you those when they come. 

I also ordered 5 pairs of Warby Parker glasses to try on at home (free trial!). These are more expensive, at $99 each, so I need help choosing. I think I know which pair I want but I want to hear from you, please, in case I’m really off the mark.

Poll below. 

#1: 

#2: 

3: 

4: 

5: 

or as I like to call it, the longest band name in the world (says she whose book is title How to Knit a Heart Back Home). 

Lala's on this album! And in this video! They're funding their new album (titled The Wonderful Clatter, which is so great I wish I had thought of it) on Kickstarter. They're quirky and a little (a lot) weird and I love their sound. And I think this video is kind of adorable, especially Lala's last line. 

 

I went through kind of a dry spell there. I was reading a stack'o'books for a contest and couldn't blog about them (which is fair, since I'm scoring them). But that was a month of reading that I couldn't write about. And while there were some good books in the pile, sadly, there was nothing astonishing that I felt like I had to break the rules to tell you about, so I was eager to get back to my planned reading.

And I'm back! Honestly, I'm loving being back on the Kindle–real books felt so heavy in my hands. Isn't that wussy? And the formatting kept distracting me. I love that on the Kindle all books read the same, formatting-wise (or should), so there's nothing to keep you from plunging into the story.

Horizon, by Sophie Littlefield 

This is the third book in Sophie's Aftertime series. Disclaimer: Sophie is one of my favorite people. She's who you call when you want to be good, and she's who you call when you want to be very bad. And when things go wrong? She's the first to call you. I'm honored to call her a friend. 

And it's a good thing she's a friend, because if she weren't, I'd have to hate her for her talent. She is the MASTER of emotion. She can wring so much out of a seemingly simple sentence that you just kind of sit there, stunned, asking "Where did that come from?" 

I'd say this: read the first one, Aftertime. It's scary and post-apocalyptic (not my usual fare but I gobbled it up) and wonderful. I won't tell you much more, but know this: you'll be hooked. I loved the second book, Rebirth, also. But Horizon blew me out of the water. It's an absolutely stunning conclusion. 

 

A Bad Idea I'm About To Do: True Tales of Seriously Poor Judgment and Stunningly Awkward Adventure, Chris Gethard

This one was a fluke. I can't remember where I read about it, but it was one of those sample chapters I threw at my Kindle while running by, and I loved it. It's a brief, painful, humorous memoir (the best kind) of a seriously funny manic-depressive. From chapters on his intestinal woes to pro-wrestling, he moved through a landscape that was so solidly male that if asked, I would have guessed it wouldn't have been a book for me. Too male, I would have thought. Too something. But his humility and capacity to relentlessly poke at himself made each chapter lovely, and I roared through it in a day in bed sick with the flu. 

 

 

Falling For Me: How I Hung Curtains, Learned to Cook, Traveled to Seville, and Fell in Love, Anna David

Confession: If a memoir is about a privileged 30-something woman learning to do something we all think we should be able to do (but sometimes can't) on a journey of self-discovery framed by a device, no matter how clumsy said device might be, I'm IN* (see My Year With Eleanor, a book this one is reminding me of). Really, I'm in. Anna David finds Helen Gurley Brown's 60s classic Sex and the Single Girl and decided to try living her life by its tenets in order to see if she can figure herself out a little more (and maybe catch a man along the way. Okay, no, she establishes firmly that this is NOT what the experiment is about. But she's candid enough to share that the idea keeps rearing its head).

I'm not done with this one yet and I'm guessing by its subtle title that perhaps a man does come along, but I'm enjoying it enough that I'm sharing it now. 

*Oh, I just realized I'm so in, I wrote one of those myself. Hmmm. 

Now, since I'm in the light-hearted secretly-kind-of-deep memoir mood, Sophie's novel notwithstanding, anything you recommend? 

Just a brief hello to whinge. I'm sick, people. Just run-of-the-mill flu sick, but I haven't had a cold or flu in so long I'd forgotten how crappy it feels to feel this crappy. 

Deep, innit? 

But THIS JUST IN: I just found a flashlight and took it in the bathroom and looked at my throat. I swear to god there are little prehensile* tonsils back there. 

Do you know how I jumped backward? Now, it's probably just that I'm sick and my throat is SUPER swollen. But I know from tonsils. I had mine out in 2002. And then again in 2007 after I had month-long bouts with tonsillitis for that went untouched by antibiotics. Yep, the regrowth can happen. Okay, I've only ever heard of it happening to my dad and my uncle, so apparently it can happen to Herrons, but tonsils regrowing twice? (Edited to add: I just googled it and there are quite a lot of people on the interwebs saying What the hell? Mine came back, too! Sneaky buggers!)

Anyway. I'm taking to bed as soon as I can (can't go there quite yet, but soon). And I'm going to think very clear, non-tonsily thoughts. 

* Lala reminds me that: You know that prehensile means they can be adapted for grasping or holding, right? Cause that's super creepy and probably means you're the host for some invading extraterrestrial species. Just sayin'. To her I say, My tonsils are much like Digit's extra toes. They both get stuck in the bedspread and make us grumpy.