I found another quiz of Jane Austen’s movies…and this one was on the Emma 2009 page. Though  it is completely unnecessary to know…My Bachelor of Highbury is Mr. Knightley. So now I know who to look for when I visit Highbury, as I often do.

Mr. George Knightley

“You might not see one in a hundred with gentleman so plainly written as in Mr. Knightley.”

You’re looking for the complete package: a man with brains, good looks, a great job, perfect manners and a sizeable fortune to boot. Well, today’s your lucky day.

As Highbury’s wealthiest landowner and all-around great guy, Mr. Knightley is what your mother meant by “a good catch.” He’s a “sensible man” with a “cheerful manner” who loves his family and friends and has no patience for vanity or drama. Direct, down-to-earth and happily duty-bound, he proves time and again that chivalry is alive and well. He’s a reluctant dancer but an astute judge of character and a trustworthy confidant. Overt displays of emotion or affection aren’t exactly his thing, but you couldn’t ask for a more caring or thoughtful friend.

No one’s perfect, so you’ll have to work through disagreements now and then (usually over something you’ve said or done). But, if you can get over his being right most of the time, you two should enjoy a fine life together indeed.

Our house proves that you do not need money to have a cutely decorated home…most often the homes that don’t match or have a theme but are purely kept clean and cozy out of a loving heart are the most inviting and pleasing. Our motto for decorating is “One man’s junk is a another man’s treasure” and it is indeed true. An old door-someone’s junk…that same old door-my treasure. Decorating is truly an art, for if one pays no heed to how to arrange their home…it will not look as well as a home that has thought and love in placing things around for company and the family. One can tell when a home looks like no one every uses the fancy china, or walks across the perfectly clean carpet; the kitchen that sparkles of no use, or the living room that looks like it hasn’t had laughter and people actually living in it. A home should not be for show, but for the family, though that does not mean that clean homes are unwelcome…but one can tell when a house has the fake beauty of things and pieces of decor, and when a house is lived in by a family that spills things on the carpets, uses the appliances, and wears out the floors and chairs from constant use. Those are the homes I feel most comfortable in.

“They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. The millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight out battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave…There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable-and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come.”

-Patrick Henry : “Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death”

March 23, 1775

This song sung by Charlene Darling is hauntingly lovely. Since I have had the cold for the last 5 days and no posts since…I thought this would be a nice change .

One of my gifts this year was a plain journal from Wal Mart. It’s not whimsical, romantic, or even cute. It is black and simple. Inside the pages are white, not cream, and have straight black lines running across the page, and there are no symbols or quotes from anyone hindering the flow of words *hooray*

In spite of the outer appearance, which is tolerable, I love this journal more than most of my others. I suppose it is due to the fact that I did not have a journal from my birthday back in early October until Christmas Eve, and I was going through major journaling withdrawals. I tried to write on loose pieces of paper but they were lost quite easily. I was frustrated and I did not know why. I always sit at night and write down the events of the day - if they are worth mentioning. But for a little over two months, I was uneasy, as if something was missing. I knew I didn’t have a journal, but I didn’t realize that I was anxious over not having a place to put my thoughts. Christmas Eve came and I opened splendid gifts… Homeschool Dropouts, pashminas, an Edwardian Apron, and other marvelous things…yet after everything was put into the places that they would stay, the ugly little journal stayed in my hands where I wrote and wrote until I was content again. I filled it with memories, accounts, and thoughts, and to have no more blank pages was a comforting sight. Not to mention that this little journal has like 400 pages…which means I won’t run out of room anytime soon.

In my first entry, I wrote down “Since October I have not had a journal and I have felt incomplete, as if I have not been able to secure the events of the days gone by” Not that I have been really “incomplete”
but just mentally I have needed that reminder of days gone by; a place where I can look back and remember things that I probably would’ve forgotten if I had not written them down. It is a comfort to know that I don’t have to store everything in my mind that I want to remember, for I have a trusty little companion who eagerly soaks up the ink of the pen and holds it until I can come back and relive the events of the day.