I've been reading The Housebreaker of Shady Hill, a collection of short stories by John Cheever. It's all life in an affluent suburb of New York, back in the day when the maid fed the children and tucked them away in bed while the parents drank martinis and went to parties. These stories are more evocative of the life my grandparents lived rather than my own, but they are also familiar, and though they raise the sort of themes that disturb the complacent middle class, they're still comfortable in an odd sort of way. Now reading My Brother Michael by Mary Stewart, a sort of romance novel for the thinking woman. It's brain candy, yes, but more like 85% organic cacao rather than a Hershey bar.
We watched PBS's Masterpiece remake of A Room With a View. A disaster! I had been looking forward to this movie, and now I'm wondering how I could ever have thought it would be good, when the original Merchant & Ivory production featured the talents of Daniel Day Lewis, Helena Bonham-Carter, Simon Callow, Maggie Smith, and Judi Dench. How could anyone be expected to top, or even meet their performances? Not only was the new Room With a View rushed, insipid, and not particularly pretty to look at--except for the scene when they first get to Rome-- but we saw more of Mr. Weasley we ever wanted to. Even the costumes sucked.
I bought some marinated Norwegian Salmon at C'ville Market (which persist in calling "Kathy's Produce"). It looks delicious. My daughters made doughnuts at home while I was at work this weekend. They were delicious. When the semester ends, I plan to do some real, proper cooking.