Watching my Stories

Is anyone else out there watching Wolf Hall? It’s haunting my life. Henry VIII, my word, is such a narcissist and a ruthless sociopath. Thomas Cromwell is shrewdly brilliant, yet human. And they just lopped off Anne Boleyn’s head. 

How glad am I that I did not live in England in the 1500’s when queens were disposable and female children were disappointments and houses were cold and made of stone and corsets were how torsos were forced into unholy shapes? 

So. Very. Glad.

But it’s all corsets all the time because I just finished season one of Turn, a brilliant AMC series about rebel colonist spies for General Washington during the Revolutionary War. It’s the historical turning points that make the best stories, you guys.

I’m still mostly incapable of reading anything of substance at this time. I blame stress. It’s rendered me brainless. 

And I wore a track suit two days in a row as I puttered around my warm, watertight house. It’s nice not being a Tudor. 

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