Friday, February 27, 2009
My dearest readers:
I have something of great interest to report. The lovely Barefoot Mama has invited all of us to chronicle our days a la mode de Jane Austen. Madam Mama is a blogger of the utmost respectability and delicacy, not to mention that she is the personification of creativity indeed.
I have it on good authority that Madam Mama is "at home" during the afternoon hours. I do encourage you to take a stroll over to her lovely home in the blog--o-sphere. I am afraid that I shall not be able to accompany you, as I am indisposed at the moment.
After this necessary preamble, I shall proceed to inform you all that I am happy to have my children suitably matched and married and settled in good positions. Now, it comes upon me to take up the task of praying for my dear friend, M___, to be wooed by a gentleman every bit as fine in character as my own honrable and beloved D____. Of course, the Lord may have other plans in mind for M____ , so I must keep that in mind. I do so have the itch to see everyone around me settled into that harmonious state of matrimony that befits men and women of gentlemanlike and ladylike character. They say that there is a lovely young woman named Emma Woodhouse who is of the same mind. I don't mind telling you that I hear that she has caused much mischief to her friends by her impetuosity in these matters. Perhaps, I should proceed with extreme caution, myself.
Last night, when I was awakened with a rhume de cervaux et de caisse, I heard the most frightening of noises. These creaks and rumbles did so remind one of creepy castles and abbeys, in which husbands attempt to poison their wives, as my friend Catherine assures me happens all of the time. I must remember to ask D______ to check our attic or our plumbing or some such thing. Perhaps, something is amiss with the house. How is it that noises which sound so cozy and friendly during the day seem so eerie when one is coughing in the wee hours?
As for our gardens, I am sure nothing is amiss, there. I am eagerly awaiting the arrival of a new rose bush. I hope it will be an adornment to our humble cottage. Do roses appeal to my sense or my sensibility? Beloved D_______ thinks it's the latter, as I do have a romantic fondness for them, but have little notion how to care for them in practicality. Perhaps, I am too prideful, thinking that I can, with a little persuasion, coax my various rose bushes into blooming health. Then, again, maybe I am prejudiced toward roses as they are such noble blossoms. What can I say? Once one falls in love with a rose, there is not the least thought of going back.
This morning, as you can imagine, I am not receiving company due to la grippe. I must tell you that I am quite bored being shut off from the delights of society. We did, however, enjoy having our church small group over night before last. It was such an agreeable company of spiritually minded people. I must say that young C___, is such an agreeable baby with the handsomest of blue eyes. Dearest readers, do you think it is too early to start dreaming of his future? I have in mind a beautiful young lady of six months, who would suit him quite well, I think. After all, they are of an age together. Wouldn't our dear Emma approve of my thinking?
Perhaps, next summer, I shall re-read Mansfield Park, just to be sure that our dear Fanny and our dear Esmond are still happy together. People repeat all of the most horrid things about poor Fanny -- saying that she is insipid and can't speak a word for herself. I maintain, on the other hand, that her modest charm is why many of us love her so.
I remain, my Dearest Readers,
Most affectionately yours,