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Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Office of Health, O. O. H.

O. O. H. missive: The castle is under pesty, pesky quarantine in the heaped-high banks and the pelting snows . . . Prayers, parades, dances, offerings (poetry books, flowers, novels and hovels-in-good-repair down South, homemade soup), wishes, crates of Lysol, and cheer accepted.


Really, I'm just shirking.

The cold is not so awfully bad, thanks to mad infusions of Airborne as it took hold. I am beginning to suspect that the stuff may actually work.

However, I'm taking a break while I get over my respiratory unhappiness and my snow blues (you thought they were white, but they aren't, being the exact shade of shadows on snow just before twilight) and fill some requests and get ready for the next two Palace features.

Soon-to-be-showing at the Palace: One piece will be about a new book by Philip Lee Williams--a celebration of morning. The night owls like me can find out what they are missing. Another will be an interview with what is bandied about as an "aspiring" writer. It does seem to me that "writer" is a thing that demands continual startings-over, unless one wants to stamp out repeat copies of a money-maker, so perhaps there is nothing but "aspiring," no matter the age or experience. I have several younger writers in mind but am going to start with one who has a Cooperstown link.

So I am not going to visit your blog today, if you have a blog. You might leave me a note full of verve and signs of life anyway, as it will help drive off the snow blues. If you don't have a blog, thank you for being quaint and not having a blog and come back again.

Anon, my friends and passers-by.


Oh, the curried soup was snitched from Laurelines. Thank you, Laura. It was delicious but not quite filling.


  1. Warm wishes for a swift recovery. I send you thoughts of wellness from beneath the magnolia, beside the iris, over the poppy, and from within the grove of silver olive and soothing cypress.

  2. It definatly sounds like a day of rest and long quiet beautiful movies. I love watching those kinds of movies when I am sick. I already have my next sick movie picled out, its called THe Weeping Meadow about the trials of an accordion player in the last century. Fabulous I know..." Exile, separation, wandering, the end of ideologies and the constant trials of history"

    Other than that, I wish you health, not as eloquently as sisk, but with the warmest regaurds.

    I appeared to your friend Robert and made a wild splash on his scene.

  3. Get well soon poor Marly. I can only boast of Camelia and dafodils at present (oh and some crocuses. I am I good company, there were lots of Camelia out in the Queen's own garden in London. From one palace to another I am sure she would wish you well too.

    PS You may laugh at my spelling if you like but it gets one down a bit sometimes.

  4. Thank you for the splash susangalique we must be on line at the same time! Look at my spelling above! I forgot to do a spel check!

  5. I saw that we posted at the same time as well because I looked and it said 3 comments and I was like what, there was only one when I hit publish comment.

  6. Hello!
    All very good, thank you
    Good week for you

  7. Thanks for visiting, David Santos, and hello to the romantic Amanda, the accordion-dreaming Susanna, and Robert with camellias tucked in his hat (maybe.)

    I'm lying low--used yesterday to loll and draft a sequence of 4 terza rima sonnets, and today I revised them and ferried children. One still must ferry, like the postman with his little letters. I, however, am more reliable than our postman, and all my children get to their proper destinations.

    Feeling green and going to nod out early... Thanks for stopping by.

  8. The HTML gods will not allow the use of sacred tags, but go to

    for some soothing chicken soup, or a teasing image of said broth at least.

    Feel better soon!


  9. The curried soup looks fabulous, but I've always heard chicken soup is best when ill? Being sick is not fun, Marly, and you deserve better. I have no flowers to offer, it being on the ending edge of winter here, only warm thoughts of you and yours getting well as soon as possible.

  10. Miso soup is good for a cold, I think. And alcohol - try drinking yourself into a stupor! That's what I do.

  11. I do so hope that the need for "broth" is now at an end and that you are at least on to “gruel” or better still "porridge". Is it too early to suggest soldiers with marmite?

    What ever, we wait with baited breath for news your recovery.

  12. Oh, I'm creeping along. The thing about being mother, ferrywoman, etc. is that you're not allowed to be sick, so you'd better not get any big ideas about retiring temporarily from the world.

    Thanks for the soup-wishes, Dave and James and MB. As for soldiers with marmite, Robert will have to enlighten me. Marmite (Vegemite? stinky, isn't it?) I dimly recall, but soldiers with marmite: you must explain this thing!I suppose it is something that English people used to eat before nouveau cuisine: Welsh rabbit only with marmite in place of cheese, or entrail pie garnished with marmite, or perhaps balls of haggis with a dollop of marmite on top!

    As for David, I suppose he will have to help me along with some more translations, as I do not know Portuguese, nary a smidge.

    Amanda, your note makes me think about Tennyson's "Now sleeps the crimson petal" every time I see it. Susanna, I have not even heard of that movie, so let me know how you like it. The subject matter is pure you, isn't it?

    And I shall look for you at Robert's house, though probably not today. It's an early dismissal day with 4 events scheduled, so I won't be around much. I have two hours to lie in bed and tweak a promised story, and after that the mayhem begins. So off I go, and perhaps I will pay a visit or two tomorrw.

  13. Haggis with marmite?? Oh god.

  14. My sympathies, Marly; I am in a similar boat.
    However I am enclosing some VERVE as requested.

  15. The ferrywoman is home for a very few minutes (to sneeze and such, naturally) and must set sail again. Hello, MB and Jan--why do we have to put up with either marmite or fevery colds? Tell me that! Sympathies, Jan. I blow my nose as a tiny trumpet salute in your general (very general) direction.

    However, I have just gotten some good news, if only I can make it work. More anon.

  16. Hey Marly,

    I hope you are feeling better. I've been offline a bit myself due to sickness. Recent post tells all, but wish you much better health.

    I made vegetable beef soup today for real and would send some to you if I could.

  17. Many ferryings later...

    I keep trying to curl up like an ailing hedgehog, but we just chiseled the second car out of a big hill of ice and snow. Finally got it rocked into the alley but had to put it back in the canyon of snow because a tire burst.

    Why do Yankees do it? Why do they stay here? Tell me that! There's a reason why the Akwesasne Mohawks were so fierce and the Puritans were so also-but-in-a-different-mode fierce, and I feel quite sure that some of it has to do with digging big cars out of mountains.

    Good health to you! I shall come visit the schoolroom and garden. Until then, take care...

  18. Feel better soon. I hope one can have a blog and still retain a bit of quaintness in this age.
    Daughter is hacking in a Camille-like fashion and looking paler than usual..perhaps the virus has reached from the land of blue snow to this land of rain and daffodils.
    Meanwhile--soldiers with marmite! Oh, no one has mentioned that in my hearing in eons, although my British friends smuggle in jars of marmite from their vacations home, knowing I have a peculiar liking for it.
    The soldiers are little rectangles of toast. Least that's what they were in my day. Spread with a bit of marmite. Crunched with a hot strong cup of tea.
    Cures all manner of ills.

  19. Robert,

    Should've known. Generations of British children raised on toast and tea. At least they consume great quantities of both in children's books.


    I'm sure you, if anybody, have a dispensation to be quaint. In fact, anybody in the Young Crones Club has the wherewithal to have a touch of quaintness.

    Sympathies to Miss Camillesque. Luckily these things are not catchable by blog.


    Shall go visiting (after the marmite cures what ails me--if I can find any! No doubt I can't and will have to get well the regular USA way) after I finish a story revision. I am just a bit overdue with that story...

  20. I second Amanda's Arcadian salutations...

  21. Archbold!

    We thought you had gone missing forever (along with the unfortunate attorney, Mr. Clendon.) What a fine thing that you have returned...

    Visits shall be paid anon.

    O. M. P.


Alas, I must once again remind large numbers of Chinese salesmen and other worldwide peddlers that if they fall into the Gulf of Spam, they will be eaten by roaming Balrogs. The rest of you, lovers of grace, poetry, and horses (nod to Yeats--you do not have to be fond of horses), feel free to leave fascinating missives and curious arguments.