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Scroop my Froufrou

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Christine

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On a lighter note, here's a thought I can blame on Gene Wolfe. You see, I was re-reading his New Sun stuff, and of course I realized that there was an obscure term I hadn't nailed down with a strong visual, so I wound up doing yet more research in antique fabrics in the middle of the night, again. I mean, as one does.

 

I want a taffeta chiton. Scroop is an onomatopoeic term for varieties of taffeta, based on the sound it emits when worn. Okay, first, this should be how far more fabrics are judged. Second, now I remember that taffeta sounds like snakes sneaking across sand, or lizards scuttling on pebbles. Third, I've also been doing midnight research in the dance of the bacchantes. So, now I need a purple silk taffeta chiton that I can kirtle aboon my knee while I hop around like a crazed skink to the strains of "The Crystal Ship."

As one does.

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I don't really have anything to offer regarding the content of this post, but I must say...I really, really enjoy reading your blog.  Your writing style is transportive.  :)

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Hey, I'm glad-- and thanks!

I'm trying to accustom myself to talking about "things we do not talk about, dear" for my babies' sakes, but not everything seems worth a heavy discussion, you know?

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