So writes George Eliot of Maggie Tulliver in The Mill on the Floss, during one of those rare, blurry-edged days of perfect happiness she experiences in her short life. I understand–the overwhelming power of this sort of moment, not its fleeting nature. This is not a blog of maudlin meditations on the fragility of our earthly contentment…
No, this blog is about those pleasures writ large in my life. It is only about jam–good food created and enjoyed and shared–and idleness–books, bicycles, beasties, friends, exploring my local geographies and my occasional forays outside of my adopted city.
For almost five years, I blogged almost exclusively about books at Bookphilia. While I still love books as much, maybe more, than I ever have, they no longer constitute the sum total of my life’s enjoyments. Grad school is long over and I’ve remembered what it means to physically get outside the house and mentally get outside the brain.
I began Bookphilia in a sad, sad, sad period in my life; I did it to remind myself how I’d ended up doing a PhD I didn’t love the way I was supposed to. It worked, and the conclusion of my final degree was a packet of very satisfying times! But now I am tremendously happy pretty much constantly and a blog created to hold back despair doesn’t make sense anymore.
This blog is sometimes disgustingly positive but I hope not saccharine; I believe that, in spite of the notable dearth of disaster and drama in my life, I am still capable of being funny and mean, if not strikingly intelligent and incisive. But feel free to send me a note anytime if I’m becoming rather too optimistic about anything.