By March 27, even those who dreamed of a white Christmas seem to have had enough, so it wasn’t too surprising that a full afternoon of wet flakes was greeted with “Not again!” and worse. It didn’t help that the previous couple of days had reached 50 degrees F — warm enough for people to start under dressing optimistically.
Typically you don’t see umbrellas here during snow, except perhaps in the hands of women protecting expensive hairstyles (I almost said “hairdos”). Yesterday, however, perhaps because the snow was wet, or because it was a spring snow, or both, the umbrellas came out in force. I let myself get bedewed — the snow, which came down in quantity but didn’t stick, lasted longest on my hair, which it made soft, full, and wavy — my favorite ‘do.
People forget how to drive during a spring snow; it took longer for the bus I was on to navigate a few blocks downtown than to get to Hyde Park.
I am tired, discouraged, and working far too hard to stay positive, so my idea was to do a couple of chores and read in bed until I could sleep, to sleep as long as I could, and to hope to dream. But J. called and stopped by on his way home for work, so this was delayed for a brief visit, during which he was plied with tea.
I’m halfway through The Other Boleyn Girl. The movie tie-in edition I got from the library shows what I assume to be the three principal actors. Certainly the women were not chosen for any physical resemblance to the portraits of Anne or Mary Boleyn, but (acting ability aside) for their twenty-first century sex appeal. In the novel, Mary Boleyn comments on the portraits’ tiny bow mouths as a signature characteristic of the Boleyns. The actress who portrays her, however, has a mouth that looks like it didn’t survive an attack by a swarm of killer bees. It’s Hollywood and meant to entertain and make money, but there’s something amusing about the need to cater to our contemporary sensibilities. The cover photo looks less like the court of Henry VIII and more like a scene from a nighttime soap opera.
I dreamed, but it was not worth remembering.