Finally I finished a book. Not a book of patterns, not a magazine, but a novel. I have started about three, no four, books over the past few months (Everything is Illuminated, On Beauty, The History of the World in 10 1/2 Chapters and The Trick is to Keep Breathing) and nothing stuck. I did finish The Actual by Saul Bellow but that's classified as a novella so I didn't feel the same accomplishment. But why am I even talking about this boring fact of finishing a novel? Well, I heard myself telling friends about it all week, and then tonight I looked it up and the first search result was the movie listing at IMDB. So the film will also be titled Revolutionary Road, and the novel is by Richard Yates, about a suburban couple in the 1950's coming to terms with their relationship while raising two children. Funny thing is that I felt like I chose to read the 1950's version of Little Children and IMDB tells me that Kate Winslet is playing the lead character in this film too. Huh. But I'm still staying away from Little Children for the time being.
To keep with the momentum I'm re-reading A Room of One's Own. Ah Virginia Woolf, how I love thee. I don't know if I'll ever get back to any of the other four I started, but at least I broke the reading rut. Finishing my tally for 1001 Books You Must Read may have provided an extra push too - I'll never be Ragdoll, but I hope I can stretch beyond my 64.
Oh, and the flowers (or shall I say cabbage) have no direct meaning - I just like to have flowers out for guests.