Credit Where It's Due

Thanks much to Erin and Hulles for the call this eve. They made an already golden Friday even better.

Loads of good work had happened. (Nice to feel the wheels are catching pavement, you know.) I'd had a really welcomed long lunch with a friend I don't see often enough, then caught up with Terry and Hulles at Frost early in the eve. Home again for a nap and dish-washing and staring with incredulity at a no-longer-functioning string of lights on the wall. I'd hung those lights the previous day. Natch to that.

>> Insert farting trumpet to sign defeat <<

So I was frowning at this when the phone rang. And there she was. And I was recalled to Moscow. And it was good.

It was grand.

(The Timmy Wing drawing is totally going on my fridge!)

This reminds me: I recently went back to reading Seamus Heaney's book of poems The Spirit Level. And then I saw a program in which a character picked up this book and read a passage from it. It was somehow connected to the mystery.

And now I think it was my dream from 6:30 or so (about the point in time I sadly missed the first call from Erin and Hulles). I was enjoying the show too. If only you could see the programming in my head.

Currently, thanks to a cringe-worthy date story of Erin's, I'm playing a rather outrageous dance troop's work. (It involves soil, eggs, and a bird-walk.) And, Hulles: great tale about the cocktail dress. I expect we'll see a full version for public consumption at your blog?

Happy and a little too alive in the mind for bed just yet....
-cK