Today I heard an interview on Writers and Company on the good ol’ CBC with Nuala O’Faolain, an Irish writer who sadly died last year, and who I had never heard of.  And now I want to go out and track down her books, because clearly she is a spintersly kindred spirit.  She said this, which is SO EXACTLY RIGHT (and I went and downloaded the podcast of the interview so I could remember it, and you should go listen to, because O’Faolain is lovely and hilarious):

“I used open my bottle of wine at 6:00 pm on the dot and start reading.  And that’s what I did every evening.  I had my little dog.  I had my fire.  I had my book.  And I had my wine.  And the problem with this is that people talk of it as if it’s a problem, the solitary spinster drinker.  But, far from being a problem, it’s lovely.”

Amen, Nuala!  There are very few things I cherish more than beautiful moments of solitude (often supplemented by wine or gin martinis).

Other news:  I am in Canada!  And boy golly, I sure am getting rudely reacquainted with what humidity is like.  A year in the desert has clearly made me weak.  Or at least has dried me out.

Other, other news:  I am finally sitting down and watching Mad Men, after two years of everybody telling me I should.  I’m only part way through the first season right now, and, yeah, it’s good.  One thing though:  Yes, I totally get why everyone is all gaga over Joan Holloway.  I get it.  The clothes, the hair, the femme fatale schtick.  But that’s the problem:  I totally get the Joan Holloway character.  There is nothing new and exciting for me in Joan Holloway.  I have seen her in a million Joan Crawford movies.  Now, Peggy Olsen?  She is fascinating.  I don’t understand her yet, and I want to know what’s going on with her, and that’s why I like her.  I want more Peggy.

And yesterday was a lovely, lovely day because I went into Toronto for the day (my dad had a meeting in the city so I went along for the ride) and met up with Tanya and Emily and Amy B., fabulous all, for lunch and ice cream, and I’m excited to go back to Toronto in a few weeks for more friends and lunches and ice cream.

And there is another author who has recently met with the spinster Stamp of Approval, this time from myself and Spinster Sister Amy G., and that is Elaine Dundy, and I don’t know why we’ve never heard of her.  I walked into Stories a few weeks ago and picked up a copy of The Dud Avocado, based solely on its title, and it is pure wonderful, a fabulous, fabulous tale of Sally Jay Gorce, an American ex-pat in Paris in the 1950s, and you should read it because it’s lovely and hilarious.  And I have decided to call myself an ex-pat when I’m in LA from now on, because it sounds so very glamourous.  But right now I am really enjoying sitting around my parents’ house in my pyjamas, being not glamourous at all.