Tag Archives: cocktails

Oh, but what a marvelously dreary day here in the Green Mountains! I do so enjoy a day moodily draped in fog and drizzle, though the weather has pointed out some of my less-than-ideal roof patches.

After an early morning of re-patching, I’m taking a break to warm myself in front of the fire (with a hot cup of coffee, naturally).

I thought you might enjoy this gorgeous picture from the delightful S. Keen, who belongs to a shooting syndicate in the UK. They shoot pheasant, partridge, and wild ducks. Naturally, Ms. Keen makes sure to wear the appropriate gear – including the Double Finger Claw Ring found in the Attic. It all sounds rather delightful, as S. Keen describes it, especially the gobs of Sloe Gin and Fennel Vodka served during the hunt. (I’m quite a sucker for a good cocktail.)

Thank you, S. Keen, for sharing photos with me. I do enjoy seeing my finds in their new homes.

And, naturally, I toast you during this season. To the hunt!

It’s time for a cocktail! Paperwork be damned! Leak in the Vivarium be damned! Muddy yeti running through the Parlor…someone needs to clean that up, actually.

My, but I haven’t written in such a long time. Bubo and I left for Paris earlier this month, wanting a change of pace and a change of palette. Upon my return, I caught a massive head cold, Bubo managed to cover herself in bright orange paint, and Mordecai just yesterday set the entire kitchen on fire whilst attempting to make mushrooms flambé.

Perhaps it is the post-vacation blues. Perhaps it is the prospect of gutting my kitchen. Perhaps it is living with the crankiest owl this side of the the Great Lakes. Perhaps it is my end-of-summer moodiness kicking in, but I am struggling to find my joie de vie. It appears I have a case of acedia.

Acedia is a noun that means spiritual torpor; apathy; ennui. Often defined as a soul-wearying indifference, it must be mentioned that acedia is not willful sloth or indolence, less so “sin,” but a spiritual lethargy or indifference, a turpitude that affects the well-intentioned. (Thank you Hermitary.com.)

The word originates from the Late Latin acēdia in turn from the Greek akēdeia meaning indifference. (This, in turn, can be traced back to the Greek a- + kēdos  meaning care, grief.)

Interesting to note, acedia was first classified as a problem among monks and other ascetics who maintained a solitary life. Their inability to perform daily tasks was distinguished as different from depression due to the spiritual overtones of their lives and work, and thus, their ennui.

Some claim that acedia can be overcome by renewing the sufferer’s faith in the spiritual or in life. How to do that, you ask? I suppose that is the big question.

I’m going to attempt this seemingly monumental task by forcing Mordecai to clean up his own mess (he is a bit of a culinary snob, so a functioning kitchen is a must for him) and by sipping summer cocktails whilst reading in the garden. Bubo finagled herself some hair dye and I’m giving her full license to turn the third floor loo into a foul feather salon.

Ostensibly, either the cocktails or the acedia will keep me from caring what the result is.

Happy Pi Day, my dears! As we do every Pi Day, Mordecai and I started the day with Pimm’s Cups and raspberry tarts (or mini-pies, if you will).

Whilst soaking in the sunshine and the warm weather snap in the garden, we noticed a corner of my soon-to-be green bean plot undulating. If was not a patch of magic earth, sadly, but instead a group of dancing efts.

An eft is a newt. Specifically, a newt in its terrestrial phase. Eft can refer to any immature newt, the terrestrial form of a primarily aquatic newt, or to the primarily North American reddish-orange Notophthalmus viridescens as well as the Southeastern North American Diemictylus viridescens (the red eft).

Eft comes to us from the Middle English evete, ewte, which in turn is from the Old English efete.

Of course, if you’d like to be truly archaic, eft can be used as an adverb meaning again or afterwards.

Eft has also become an acronym in modern times, meaning either Electronic Financial Transfer or Emotional Freedom Techniques. But if someone yells to you “Look! A red eft!” they are not referring to money or a psychological acupuncture technique.

They are referring to a newt.

Mordecai and I offered our brace of efts bits of raspberry tart and filled some leaves with Pimm’s Cups. They soon began doing what I can only assume is a Pi Day Dance. Which is about 3.14159265 times more undulating than a normal newt dance.

I’m sure Bubo’s appearance had nothing to do with the fervor.