But perhaps because my fingers are now blistered and not throbbing with pain (man, I am going to be such a WHINER during labor), the world seems pink and rosy.
I've got this character who is an architecural paint conservator-- these things develop, I promise; it's not like I sat down to write a novel with a guy who analyzes paint chips-- and he is teaching a seminar to a bunch of future architects, who care naught about paint, but are somewhat interested in old houses.
One of them asks him why old houses feel different, more harmonious, to her than new homes, and he can't come up with an answer. He thinks about low-ceiling Pennsylvania Dutch farmhouses, stately brick Federalist homes, funky Queen Anne cottages with their curliques and preciousness, and it's hard to find a common denominator-- other than age.
Is that it? The only reason old houses are cool is because they're...old? And if anyone loves new houses-- tell me why.
P.S. Shout out to DANIELLE, who is arriving tonight from Nashville with a cooler of grass-fed sirloin, all-natural pork chops, and antibiotic-free chicken, along with her lovely self, her less lovely dog (I will post a picture; she's so funny-looking), and some dvds of Weeds. Gonna be a grand time here in Mississippi.
Delivering a wedding present.
1 month ago