I just read two books back to back that made me realize there is this whole genre of books with a similar form. I have read many of them over the years, but never realized what they were. I decided to call this genre Brilliant Friends books after Elena Ferrante’s magical Neapolitan Quartet and its first book My Brilliant Friend. The stories are all told by an adult woman looking back on an intense high school friendship that was formative, changing their lives in some way or another. The narrator is the more subdued friend, the quiet one, the follower who is remembering the brilliant, defiant, bold, brave and ultimately tragic friend. Tragedy can take many forms, not just death, but always, the narrator ends in a better place than the brilliant friend. Thinking about it, both the books I just read (Marlena and Please Proceed to the Exit) fit that model but not just them. There’s The Girls by Emma Cline, The Roanoke Girls by Amy Engel, even All the Missing Girls by Megan Miranda, a mystery has the brilliant friend disappear, runaway or murder victim.
One of my favorite things about NYU is that they usually release as separates and the lovely camisole and lace skirt released at faMESHed are true to form. I love separates because it’s fun to mix and match. The pieces come with multiple colors selected by HUD.
Our web site was down. Somehow there was a virus in the database. Is that not the strangest thing? I don’t know if that would affect readers or not, but thankfully it’s been fixed.
I shot these pictures last week. I was still shocked by the Orwellian phrase “alternate facts” that in a healthy society would completely discredit the people who promote them. But, since people no longer distinguish between fact and opinion, alternate facts seem to be growing. Aldous Huxley, though, had the right idea. “Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.”
The best part of a Friday night in and being single is I can do whatever the eff I want. Eat candy and pizza at the same time? HELL YEAH. I can and do. There’s nothing bad happening, I’m not gaining weight.
I’m at peace on a perfect Friday night, hanging out and doing nothing. Continue reading
Portland is on its third day of snow. We are a city ill-suited to snow. Most people don’t know how to drive in it. We have lots of hills that are quite steep and can get slippery, we have bridges that get icy, and we have snow so seldom, there is no huge fleet of snow removal equipment nor deep knowledge of living with snow. I hunker down and so does my best friend, and we are both from snow country. She’s from Buffalo, I am from the Northwoods of Minnesota. We know snow.
I remember the first snowfall after I moved to Oregon. I was living way up in the Cascades, in a river valley, closed in my mountains, a deep canyon that ranged from 1/4 to a few miles wide. There were places where the road was carved into the canyon cliffs, with a fall down into the river below and there were wider valleys that made room for truck farming, but life centered on logging. It was rural, so I was surprised when I got a call saying school was closed and there was just a dusting of snow, barely two inches. I thought it was a prank and went to school anyway, discovering it was closed. Deciding to take advantage of a weekday off, I decided to drive to the State Capitol and take a tour.
It was then I discovered why they closed school for a light snowfall. Driving up one of the big hills, the traffic was so slow the cars lacked the speed that would keep them from sliding backwards, pulled by gravity on the slick highway. It was quite frightening, more frightening than anything that had ever happened to me in a car before. I managed to avoid them as I chugged up the hill, but it was nerve-wracking. I am sure they thought I was a speedster, but really, I just understood the laws of physics.
Distance lends discretion, so I am beginning my post with a full body shot instead of the usual three-quarter photo I usually use. My blouse is a bit sheer and revealing and so closer, more detailed photos are below the cut on behalf of those who might be taking a peek while at work. I am repurposing a lovely lingerie bodysuit from Luxuria because as Reiss Field once said, “Everything is fair in love, war, and fashion.”
I am still traveling, visiting my middle sister, my oldest sister, my younger brother, my nieces, my nephews and all the family. A trip to the family cemetery, the old homestead my grandparents built and of course, feasting everywhere I go. It’s tuckered me out which is why my pixel self is napping at Isle of Peace, a beautiful spot to rest and relax