Today a friend, who may or not may not be Stevie Ricardo, called me because she had been thinking about me, worrying about me actually, and her phone call touched me immensely because it had been such a long time since anything like that had happened. I don’t see many people anymore; in fact, hardly at all; so to get a call like that from a friend who just wanted to see how I was doing and to say “I love you” was incredibly warming to my heart cockles (see: coeur clams). It felt good to babble to someone too, secure that even if it took me awhile to get to where I was going I was still being listened to. Remember Meg Ryan in I.Q., when her fiance Stephen Fry kept admonishing her for babbling, but Tim Robbins liked it? I don’t have many “babble” people. You know, the people with whom you can just go crazy and let your arms flail all over the place, even when you’re on the phone, because gesturing with your hands makes the words come out clearer; and with whom you don’t have to worry about finishing sentences or getting your words out before they start talking over you or change the subject? Those people? This particular person gets me so I don’t have to jump a bunch of hurdles before reaching the chewy nougat center of my thoughts. We just dive right in. I know I’m waxing on interminably and employing a terrifying hodgepodge of metaphors but I’m just really super happy it happened to me today when I needed it. I’ve been doing some major, much-needed, reconnecting with peeps.
The first part of the day sucked pretty hard, but the second part was good. We did a little thrifting and I found some stuff: two small bowls I adore, a four-inch high goddess on a marble stand, which cleaned up great with an old toothbrush and some soapy water, and a matted frame for the pastel of Horatio Stephanie drew for us when she stayed here a few months ago. It looks fantastic up there on the wall. I’ll take pictures of everything for you sometime, maybe. The other day, Jesse gave me a picture he’d drawn of me holding Torie when she was little. It’s from a photo, and I love it. I need to find a frame for that, too. Our cozy apartment walls are in danger of becoming massively crowded with artwork but you know, (almost) all of it is meaningful. I remember seeing a magazine photo of Gabriel Byrne’s NY apartment once, and holy shnikey, it’s floor to ceiling paintings and books. What’s good for my Ole Faithful celebrity crush should be good enough for me, right? I should say. Fuggedabout the fact that my whole apartment would probably fit in his guest bathroom. It’s all about scale, which is why I always buy my furniture at the Little People Shop.
You know, there just might BE a Little People Shop! That was a joke, but I think I might look into it. That would be really fun, no? Probably no, because there’s a good possibility that I’m being reprehensibly un-PC, considering that I just had a couple scoops of chocolate ice cream with apricot brandy poured all up into it. MMMM, Little People. I think maybe I’d better wash my face, straighten the house a bit – just the mild kind of straightening before bed – and then read for awhile. Anything that gets me away from the computer, in other words. What’s on TV Monday nights? I’ll check. Love to you all! Goodnight! xo