hello sunday.

darlings

how lovely!

it’s       s u n d a y  m o  r  n  i n  g.

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our friends at the Velvet Underground (we adore velvet) sang it best:

oh.

really?

of course.

*sighs*

if you cannot see that Transmission in your territory either ask mr. google for “Velvet Underground” and “sunday morning” or, knowing you (*winktocamera4*), go to your Vinyl Turntable and find the original album – b l i s s.

you know the best things about sundays?

often they come after a night of Reflection and repose and perhaps talking to someone very kind on the beach before sunset and Going Over Things that have happened and getting some excellent guidance (the past is just a story – but sometimes it’s a very sad one) and then laughing at the points in a Tale when one feels a Tiny bit of despair and is reminded (gently) that everything is useful. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAor as the (very much missed) Ms. Nora Ephron’s mother said: “it’s all material.”

which Can be a very dark way of looking at things. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAand in another way, rather Liberating.

yes we’re being noticeably Opaque. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

sometimes that is Just for the best, love.

but we *did* take pictures.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAwe always take pictures.

and look around to gather tiny details for future novels like sea glass in the sand.

nothing is wasted.

everything is recorded. 
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and there are always thank you letters to send out to say how much one admired someone’s directorial debut where they told their own (rather sad) Tale and made it into something much better than it could possibly have been to live through.

which is sort of the point.

can’t waste a good tale.

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not when it might help other people.

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otherwise it was all for naught.

and that’s Truly Tragic, darlings.

*giggling*

exit left (we’re LATE!)

 

 

 

 

talking and smiling; over tea.

In the Middle of our very Busy day (almost hectic at one point but then we realized we were relying on caffeine and not breathing and all was well again) we had a Visitor from Out of Town.

The most special aspect of our visit was that we got to talking/engaged in conversation about Real things (hospitals, surgery, how-to-cope when the bomb of Illness explodes in the midst of one’s life) almost Instantly – which is Rare and beautiful in a day.

As our guest was also well-versed in the Imaginative and the curious and the fabulous and the downright delicious modes of life, we were able to talk about Those sorts of things too. Also rare in the hubbub of the sniper fire of midtown manhattan.

After our visitor left, we cleared away the remaining tea receptacles and felt Very Refreshed.

There’s something beautiful and clearing and Utterly Necessary about drinking tea and sitting close with someone who knows how frightening it is to be lying on that gurney, waiting for the assembled cast of professionals in white to come in and open one up with knives and – hopefully – make it all better. And then to sit for a long while, in some confusion and a great deal of pain, wondering how to piece one’s life together again as the stitches heal and the missing pieces are examined under a microscope somewhere.

And to know that this other person, drinking tea, and smiling and catching one’s breath from time to time, also confesses to the Most perplexing notion that there’s Actually very little of the life Before that one wants Back.

So we wait.

Healing.

Plotting.

Sometimes just lying exhausted on the couch wondering what color/colour/shade the Higher Dosage of synthroid will be when we fill the “scrip” (yes, they make them in pale pastels, isn’t that Truly mid-70s psychotropic-like of them, darlings – Pretty Pills – er, Not).

And wondering what’s Next.

Sending healing thoughts Across Town……………to anyone who needs it today.

*smiling_on_the_sofa_in_soho*