Brittle melancholies.. I’m only ten years old but there’s something in Karen Carpenter’s voice that sends me into a third heaven. I can feel sugar effervescing across my shoulders and down my arms. “White lace and promises, a kiss for luck and we’re on our way.” I don’t think I have the words, yet, to..
You forgot the violins and the Bach.. So I posted this picture on the Riley’s Farm Facebook page the other day and someone responded with a little plucking and clucking about “romanticizing the past” and “chamber pots and cholera” and all that–and I got to thinking, first of all: when people respond that way to..
