I didn’t much like this week. So, as an antidote, I did silly things. Like drink coffee really late and stay up most of the night writing and reading Hemingway. Or, mixing a hot toddy and drinking it the tub. And I went to yoga and instead of doing the easy, plinky-plonky class I took classes with oxymoronic names like “extreme bootcamp yoga”. I take comfort in the fact my ways of dealing with stress are all pretty benign.

But I don’t want to go on about all that was wrong with this week. It’s Friday and I’m happy for that. I have an exciting weekend ahead of me and Monday off work. I did also manage to mail off Christmas cards to Ireland and I think some of that late-night caffeinated writing I did might actual turn out to be decent when I read over it. So there’s always that.

I’ve been ordering a lot of books lately. Liane led me to this post and a purchase of two books by Bill Doyle, “Ireland’s Cartier Bresson”. That kind of description usually makes me wince, but I also like those epic Aran photos, so I worked through it. And I bought a Frank O’Hara bio and a Joan Mitchell one too.

Around this time of year, I always act like Christmas is going to offer this vast stretch of unfettered reading. It’s easy to forget it’s really only a two-day break. Odds of me really squeezing in a rereading of Middlemarch, 1Q84, Book Of Disquiet, Beckett's letters and these two bios are disappointingly slim. Odds of me watching The Muppet Christmas Carol and mulling wine are far more fair.

But that's weeks away yet and I'm really just happy for this weekend now... What are you up to? Have a great one!
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