team gloria is inside the spaces in between.
in between what?
we hear you ask (in a lovely baritone over there, how delicious, thank you for that)….
in between times. in between feelings. in between lives. in between chapters.
what on earth are you talking about dear?
(team gloria takes a sip of delicious new fairtrade coffee made by some women-owned farms in central africa – we made that last bit up, couldn’t quite face getting up and checking the data but you get the idea – coffee that not only tastes good, but makes you feel good – yes, we did write advertising copy at one point in our careers – for a meal-replacement bar – not a high point – but the view from the office was quite lovely).
well, since the looming date of september 9th hangs over our heads like the sword of damocles (we do love a little ancient history in the morning), we cannot plan a thing.
we have no idea how we are going to feel – physically, emotionally or in the realms-of-the-spirit – we have no concept of how long the special thyroid-replacement hormone and radioactive iodine in-pill-form (how Valley of the Dolls! and not for the first time in our lives we can say that sadly ;-)
we don’t know how our emotions and motor skills will be affected and for how long.
isn’t motor skills just the loveliest 1920s expression?
“how are your motor skills, maud?”
“oh! darlings! the austin runs like a bloody dream!”
so here we are. the spaces in between. not able to plan. no concept of when we can fly again post-sept 9th (we leave on a jet plane on monday for the Other Coast pre-surgery!), no idea of what length of recovery time is required.
all we have is this: we are going to have surgery. tobias and his sisters will be cut out along with our glands in both sides of our throat and placed onto a white (is it white?) slab and dissected and examined for (oh come on, are you going to make us say it? ok…..
and then we will lie in bed watching the movies that you recommend and writing a novel.
did we not mention that?
we’ve written a few screenplays but a novel-while-convalescing sounds so delicious, non?
here’s a taste.
Perhaps she’d take a lover. After all, her afternoons were now free. Isn’t that what women of a certain age in Europe did? She picked up the smallest paperweight, with the words Gloria picked out in tiny jeweled letters over a celestial blue sky, and, holding it for good luck, walked out of her office and into her new life.
She should have taken the subway, she thought, as the car service crawled downtown. In her new life, perhaps she’d only take the subway and wean herself off the expensive town cars and constant stream of taxicabs.
Money was not going to be a problem. She was rich – her lawyer had made sure of that.
yes – darlings – you guessed it – we are going to lie in bed draped in a silk robe, with stitches in our poor (previously unlined – ahem) neck and write a shirley-conran–judith-krantz-type-oeuvre.
it’s all going to be delicious.
and knowing us (as we do) – highly lucrative ;-)