Oh yeah,

it’s cold,

out there,

positively,

frigid.

Times like these,

you think,

jeez,

imagine if my source,

of central heating,

was a drafty,

fireplace,

like my ancestors,

Brrrr

Normally, I’m not a big Hydro-Quebec fan, but, nights like these, they get a big thumbs up, also I worry about the homeless and the cats.

The Habs lost,

again,

not ‘our’ year,

I have a feeling,

come Spring,

we’ll all be saying,

“Next Year!!”

like the,

Brooklyn Dodger fans,

of yesteryear:-)

It’s ok,

it’s just a game,

right?

The bookstore was,

very quiet today,

made some tracks,

in my reading,

of,

Graves’,

Goodbye To All That,

more than halfway through.

One interesting thing,

about Graves,

one of his,

public school masters,

was,

George Mallory,

the great climber,

one of my,

Butch Icons.

Butch Icons,

are not,

to be confused,

with,

Butch idols.

Butch icons are,

men,

whose virility,

masculinity,

not,

machismo,

I admire.

Guys like,

Hemingway,

a lover of women,

but,

butch,

a man’s man.

Butch Idols,

are,

kick ass,

butch women.

I know, I know, weird- but, it is My Blog:-)

I like my icons and idols,

to be,

mostly,

dead.

No chance of embarrassing,

sound bites,

on television

<wink>

So,

Mallory,

George Leigh Mallory,

was the son of a preacher man,

Cambridge educated,

and,

an important member,

of three successive,

British expeditions,

to attempt,

to climb,

the top of the world,

Everest.

Mount Everest.

<sigh>

He was a school teacher,

and,

the greatest mountain climber,

of his generation,

some think,

yours truly,

amongst them,

of,

ANY generation.

A family man,

a devoted husband,

and father,

a decorated war hero,

a mensch,

uber mensch.

Also he was a fine,

physical specimen,

George Mallory,

and,

his team,

climbed,

in tweed knickers,

leather boots,

with nails under them,

with ropes,

and,

pick axes,

no microfiber,

tweed, leather and wool.

On his last expedition,

in 1924,

he and his climbing partner,

Andrew ‘Sandy’ Irvine,

were last seen,

very close,

to the summit.

They disappeared in clouds,

and were never seen alive,

again.

For years,

biographers,

climbers,

fans,

have theorised,

that perhaps,

they did reach,

the top of the world.

How could we know for sure?

They did not live,

to tell the tale!

In 1999,

a British expedition,

that included,

a BBC film crew,

set off in search,

of Irvine’s body,

he was carrying,

a camera,

on the ascent,

and,

in it’s undeveloped,

though,

most certainly,

preserved,

film,

may lie the answer,

to whether,

they were the,

first.

They did not find,

Irvine’s body,

or,

the camera,

But,

they found,

George Mallory,

his clothes still bore,

labels,

and,

his personal belongings,

were still,

in his pockets.

One important,

cherished,

personal belonging,

not found,

on Mallory-

the picture of his wife,

Ruth.

He had always said,

he would leave,

her picture,

at the summit.

….

and so the myth lives on,

did he?

didn’t he?

I like to think,

he did,

makes for a better,

story,

don’t you think?

Ruth believed it ’til,

her dying day.

She never remarried.

Thanks for indulging,

my ‘telling’

of a,

Butch Icon.

Later girls,

BB

The rain cometh,

let us give thanks,

for the rain<sigh>

Been a fair day,

considering the full moon,

is just days away.

I like August,

we might still get,

a small,

heat wave,

but,

the worst is behind us,

I’m already looking,

into some fall clothes,

the students are starting,

to scout for their,

required readings,

that means I’m out of The Catcher In The Rye, The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz, King Lear, The Lord Of The Flies, Animal Farm etc:-)

I finished reading,

my Hemingway today,

love him,

I can imagine,

talking books,

and,

fly fishing with this guy.

I don’t fly fish but, I’d like to someday, just saying

He’s a sensitive man,

and writer,

keen observer,

of human nature,

and,

a cat lover:-)

Flair, panache,

and a,

midwestern earnestness,

about him.

Funny that some,

of my favourite writers,

have this real outdoorsy,

flavour,

about them,

me a city girl,

and all.

I’ll say it again,

Hemingway,

should not,

be dismissed,

as macho,

he is so much more,

nothing wrong with,

virility.

Oh well,

just my opinion.

I have taken,

on,

reading Montaigne,

well,

at least parts,

and I read a little,

Thoreau’s On Civil Disobedience,

a bit of an anarchist,

ole Henry David,

I’ll let you know,

what I think,

right now,

I’m tired.

Later girls,

BB