I'm back from my weekend full of fine wine, fine dining and my fine friend. I am mentally preparing my Book Review on The Thirteenth Tale, savoring how I am going to capture the beauty of such an exquisite book. So you could just take my word for it and order it (from the library or book store) today. Boca friends, my apologies but I passed it to Amy in Savannah and she read the whole thing on the plane home, so by today it will start its rounds of New England.
Coming back I am supposed to be rested, relaxed, renewed and rejuvenated, right? But something is missing. It's not the perfectly chilled crisp glass of white wine in our room before leaving for a late dinner. It's not the foie gras on my fork (with HUGE apologies to Shirley and thanks for educating me about the horrors of foie gras production...and by the way since some animal things are NOT self-evident Shirley also pointed out that iguanas are attracted to the color red and she has the now-healing scar on her face to prove it....oh, and I just heard that raisins are poisonous to dogs!...how was that tangent?). It's not the Spanish moss hanging seductively from the trees. It's not the languid Southern drawls.
It's the quiet. Savannah is a quiet city. Our B&B was a quiet place. Amy and I speak softly (when we aren't around our children and yelling is de rigeur). Waiters silently appear and disappear as they ensure that your every culinary need is met. But around here it's noisy, chaotic and clamorous. Rory's voice booms. Toby doesn't even bark, but he slurps noisily and his tags tinkle to let you know when he's on the move. Hurley sits on the couch shouting for everyone because "Sixteen Candles" is on and he thinks it is such a classic that it can't be missed. When one person (OK, me) decides she can miss it, the volume is mysteriously increased so that behind my closed door in my room reading my book, I can hear every word. Phones ring...haven't figured out a vibrate function for our home phone yet. Maybe our next girls' weekend will be a retreat to a convent or wherever it is that monks live and take a vow of silence...as long as they know to keep bringing the wine!
I'm hoping later today to have some moments of quiet when I can cast my memory back to my reading of The Thirteenth Tale and try to entice you to read it, savor it and love it as much as I did. Since Amy has finished it, I've asked her to also do a review so we can post a Siskel & Ebert-esque blog.
Di


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