When I looked at the photo of this card, taken last summer before I got the external flash (a.k.a. Got Religion, namely the Cult of Indirect Lighting, Reformed Orthodox), I was so sorry for its awful-awful ugliness.
But then I pulled the actual card out to see the back and, OH. It's gold. And shiny. And must have looked so appealing in the stand. An easy way to buy the friendship of the recipient.
So, it is the photo that makes you want to say hi to it in the halls, even though the popular kids will see you. The card itself is only ugly in a glamorous way. Like, hm, Carol Channing.
(I didn't know Carol Channing had a black grandmother or that she went to Bennington College. More fun facts to take the place of remembering to change the air filters tomorrow.)
This card was sent to Miss B. Austin, 55 Grace Ave, Maidstone, Kent. I want to change Miss B's final vowel to an /e/, but I know the world doesn't work like that, and I'm being a big girl about it.
Postmarked 18 May 1989:
"Dear Betty,
"Dot and I are having a lovely restful holiday in South of France. Took the bus into St Tropez today & going to Monaco next week but otherwise just wandering locally in the sunshine. Not too hot, just comfortable with a nice breeze. Hope you are well.
"Pam & Dot."
I feel rested just reading that. Remind me to read it again in the morning before I lurch into the car for work, where I have stacks of to-dos waiting as today I was home with day 4 of the Monster Cold. Much better now, in a functional-but-gloggy-and-queasy way.
Speaking of food, and someday wanting to eat again, the Suncoast casino on the edge of Summerlin (read: out in the burbs, not on the Strip) does a great breakfast buffet for about six dollars. Fresh, good selection, and particularly tasty fruit. (I recommend the watermelon; Mike says the grapefruit's the winner.) Anyway, the name of the buffet is "St. Tropez," and when one of us is in the mood for it, we start singing, "Do you know the way to St. Tropez." It's very amusing. And catchy.
Some days I almost want to have children, just so there will be someone who will be grateful to have all these tender little memories of us when we're gone.
(But, once again, I'm still the person who doesn't understand why babies can't sleep on floors. I mean, I believe mothers when they tell me it's Not Done, but my cogs jiggle helplessly when I try to figure out why the suggestion is so awful. Obviously I'd put down a towel first, duh.)
Sleep on the floor? Why not? Ok, yeah, on a blankie or something, but why not? Heck, they'll sleep in car seats with their heads all wonky, the floor is bound to be more comfy than THAT. And no danger of rolling off anything. Of course, there IS the danger of being stepped on, but that can be easily prevented. Right?
:)
Posted by: Heather in PA | 15 January 2008 at 07:50 AM