I have a new obsession. Several months ago, I got wrapped up in one of the Masterpiece Mystery series, Endeavour. It's set in 1960s Oxford, and it is absolutely riveting to me. I know the big PBS craze of the last few years is Downton Abbey, but I haven't been bitten by that particular bug yet. Endeavour is entirely my bag. It's not just how well-written are the mysteries and complex are the characters. It is filmed so seductively, with quiet closeups of absolutely perfect vintage costumes and set decorations. I cannot look away when it's on. My fingers itch to touch the props, the little leather notebooks and pencils, the tiny keys fitting into dark bronze locks, the perfect paste jewelry. I can smell the air and taste the food and drink in each scene. I swear even the relative humidity in my house changes when I watch misty English cityscapes on this show. It makes me wonder, what can I do to recreate a little of that world in my own lifestyle. I've often thought that I could easily slip into the persona of a hipster, in the current definition of that term. I don't use it disparagingly. I mean the people who appreciate hand-made crafts, "artisinal" foods, and simple mechanical designs, as opposed to the digital, mass-produced offerings that surround us. I don't want to give up my smart phone, but I could probably switch back to a hand-crank egg beater once in a while. I have mad sewing skills. I could easily, if not necessarily quickly, transform my wardrobe to fit in completely with the cast of Endeavour. I keep an awful lot of family antiques in my home. As my older daughter says, they are wasted if they are not used once in a while. It feels magical to me when I cook with my grandmother's utensils. I feel transported when I open the 80 year old china hutch, and the smell of old wood and lacquer puffs out. I touch old linens, and I can feel my ancestors hands still on them, like they just held them seconds earlier. I think it might be time to look critically at my belongings, to see what can swap out to give me the nostalgia I crave.
Yesterday's carpentry adventure (and today's aborted attempt to extend it) has given me a setback physically. Fighting with the power drill and the square-drive pocket screws (Which-I-Hate) made me tense up and put stress on my hips in ways I shouldn't have. I am going to have to confess all to Bones on Tuesday, and beg him to straighten me out again. That is, if I make it that long. All day, I haven't been able to get comfortable. I can't sit still for more than a minute. I can't stand up for much longer. Trying to stretch out and use the floor to massage sore muscles was a nightmare. And telling myself that it was an important learning experience, so I could relay exactly what sets me off is cold comfort. Nothing is helping me right now.
I don't own the rights to Masterpiece Mystery, so I can't use any photos from it to illustrate for today. Best I've got are the Minions, who desperately wanted to go use their cat skills to murder the squirrel who was foraging on the deck this morning, and the Professional Eater dog who successfully lobbied for and won the rights to eat the last two broccoli florets from my lunch. The carpentry project will remain a mystery until it is completed, whenever that may be.
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