Murder mysteries. Let’s face it. Unless you’re one of those jerks who loves skiing, you’re going to be spending a little more time indoors over the next few months. Why not pass the time with a little murder and intrigue? Give Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries or The Bletchley Circle a try. Might I also recommend Rosemary & Thyme and Marple (as in “Miss”), starring Geraldine McEwan?
Take up a handcraft, such as knitting or crochet. Knit yourself your own scarf to keep you warm and cozy, and wrap your entire face in it to ward off strangers. I promise, those dark winter evening hours will just fly by while you master the art of potholder making.
Stay tuned for more tips in “Angie’s Guide to Winter Survival Part 2.”
- Find a way to not hate my job OR finally track down One-Eyed Willie’s rich stuff
- Paint my laundry room
- Change the ding-dang filter on my kitchen sink water purifier (Scary!)
- Figure out how to not want to karate kick everyone in the face
- Drinking hot chocolate and eating scones (What a dee-light!)
- Going to the movies
- Watching murder mysteries in my pajamas
- Painting my nails
Oh, kids. You know how I love a good murder mystery/detective show. That’s why I was delighted to stumble upon Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries on Netflix.
Essie Davis stars as Phryne Fisher, a sharp-witted, stylish private detective in 1920′s Melbourne. She is a refreshing addition to the genre, thanks to author Kerry Greenwood, who originally brought the character to life through a series of novels. I think Phryne holds her own when stacked up against some of the other favorite crime detectives of the ages and manages to feel familiar, despite being a relatively new addition to the murder mystery universe. While some others, like Miss Marple, with her knitting in tow, and Lieutenant Columbo, with his rumpled coat and missing pen, count on being underestimated to get at the truth, Phryne prefers the direct route and is all confidence and swagger. She isn’t afraid of getting dirty, unlike our beloved, prissy Belgian, Inspector Poirot, nor does she mind a romantic entanglement or two, unlike our impenetrable bachelor, Sherlock Holmes. This is not to say that she always arrives at success all on her lonesome. Where would Miss Fisher be without her ever-growing team of useful assistants? For starters, there’s loyal Dot, her maid; Mr. Butler… the butler; Jane, her pickpocketing ward; and let’s not forget Bert and Cec, who started out as furniture movers, but soon found themselves handling some of the legwork for our lady detective. On the law side of things, meet Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, here to supply you with sexual tension and disapproving grumblings, and his companion, the adorable Constable Collins, who carries a torch for Dot.
Series 1 is streaming on Netflix! Have I ever steered you wrong?
I don’t know what 8 foot tall, tiny alligator-waisted, grasshopper-kneed, bulgey-ankle’d, creepy long-thighed monster these tights were made for, but I’d like to punch their creator in the face. According to their little size chart, these tights should be just a hair too small for me even. I hate the world.
Now that we are settled in our new home, I actually have space to set up my sewing machine. It’s been really nice. REALLY really nice. Super duper nice even. Folks, we are reunited and it feels SO good. You don’t know what it’s like for a sewing addict to go without easy access to her machine for… well, years, really. It was like losing a limb. My original machine broke and then by the time I had replaced it, there was no place to set it up. So it just sat there in a box for the most part collecting dust. Realizing I had the space to create a permanent setup for my machine in our new home felt like Ash in Evil Dead 2 after he loses his hand and comes up with his new and improved chainsaw/shotgun set up. Back in business, baby, and even better than before.
With the old girl fired up and ready to go, it took me no time before I was mending, hemming, and crafting my way into bliss.
Two of my nieces had their birthdays a couple of weeks ago, so I made them some prizes. Thu Hong got an eyeglass case and a small change purse. Carol got a slightly larger wallet/change purse thingy. Behold:
Here’s to many more sewing adventures in my new place!
P.S. If you want to check out our new place, take a look here!
It could be I’m just down in the dumps, but I’m having a hard time feeling energized by anything. It’s been hard to rustle up the mental power to write lately, both here and elsewhere (which I feel really guilty about). I could blame it on lots of things that I can name and plenty of things I can’t, but sometimes I get the urge to completely unplug from everything and start anew. Like the ending of Logan’s Run. Just blow up the city, man, and rebuild. Touch the wrinkles on Peter Ustinov’s face and pet a cat.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up and feel energized and focused and be able to write about something that I think is awesome. Right? Right?
I think I know how that lady who married the Eiffel tower feels. Seriously, would you look at this couch? I feel like I cheated on my husband just looking at it. I’m tingling all over. I desire it. It’s only $995. That’s like nothing, right? Don’t you wanna buy it for me? Wouldn’t you get so much pleasure knowing how much my life has improved by just being around it? So, really, it’s like a gift for BOTH of us. Have I convinced you yet?
Now would you look at the couch that I’m forced to live with and tell me I don’t deserve something pretty that will bring me joy?
I feel like Edward Rochester trying to rationalize a bit o’ bigamy here.
‘That is my wife,’ said he. ‘Such is the sole conjugal embrace I am ever to know – such are the endearments which are to solace my leisure hours! And this is what I wished to have’ (laying his hand on my shoulder): ‘this young girl, who stands so grave and quiet at the mouth of hell, looking collectedly at the gambols of a demon. I wanted her just as a change after that fierce ragout. Wood and Briggs, look at the difference! Compare these clear eyes with the red balls yonder-this face with that mask-this form with that bulk; then judge me, priest of the gospel and man of the law, and remember with what judgement ye judge ye shall be judged! Off with you now. I must shut up my prize.’
Sigh. I guess you and I both know I can’t have nice things. That’s okay. I’ll just sit here on my lumpy couch, staring wistfully off into the distance, while my cats sharpen their claws on the upholstery some more.
Ack! And while we’re at it, would you look at this beautiful brute? Someone please help me to keep my coveting down to a minimum…
These two took turns parking their kitty keisters on my chest and staring intently at my face in an effort to wake me up. While it did cause me to open my eyes, mostly due to their fat tummies constricting my breathing, it did not inspire me to get out of bed. So, the joke’s on them.