Saturday, May 07, 2005

Spinning tops

Life is a blurr (like the photo below?)

Things are spinning, spinning, oh! those of you who were children in the fifties and sixties: remember those tops we had? The ones where we wound the string around and around, climbing it up the sides of the top and then with one fast release – off it went!

Sometimes I think that I have been using my years to wind up this top of mine and now I am letting it fly. Wheeee! Such a cool toy (sometimes the spin is a dud, a failure).

So I’m spinning along, only it seems that, unlike the toy, my speed is increasing.

Diversions, there are diversions: currently I am enjoying the company of one daughter who is home for a few days. Another will join us soon. This is a movement I can live with. Their popping in for a brief spell is like a coating of rich dense chocolate over a candied orange peel. [Now why did I think of that? I am not sure…]

This morning I went to the Saturday market. My first this year! I’m posting three pictures: one of our local cooking hero of the year, Chef Tory, taking care of foraging for foods at the market because his employed forager (me) decided she didn’t feel like working today. [Does he look peeved? No, that’s what makes him cooler than cool. More Tory news later as I plan on celebrating his ascent this week to restaurant stardom later tonight.]

The second photo is of a person who loves her spice girl treat on a Saturday morning (a daughter who has heretofore resisted being part of an Ocean post, but for some reason decided to oblige today; the surprise of the moment was so great that I rushed with the shot blurring it to pieces, of course).

The third is of the bouquet that traveled home with us. If only I could post the incredible fragrance. It smells like…lilacs. Real, wonderful, blooming lilacs. No surprise there.
so cool! Posted by Hello
wonderful Posted by Hello
perfect Posted by Hello

On having someone important ripped from your life

It takes time to develop trust and confidence in a person, to experience mistakes, to repair them, to start afresh, to build and grow, to feel happy and secure in what you have created together. You can’t have that special bond right away, no matter how good the chemistry, how delightful the encounters.

Okay, so it’s there, you’re happy, you hope they’re happy. And then pffft! They’re gone. Just like that.

This is the story of Eva, the waxing woman, the one who was the first to ever shape my eyebrows, the one whom I had just recently grown to rely on. I come home and there is a message on my machine: Eva has moved. She is no longer available. I need to schedule an appointment with someone else.

Easier said. As if I can just plunge right into another relationship. Eva, whom I trusted to be part of my Madison days for a long long time, Eva who loved to talk about how wonderful her visits to Warsaw had been, Eva, who convinced me that my future lies within the world of wax, Eva has betrayed me and moved to greener pastures. Thanks a lot.