So Hurricane Katia is churning up the Atlantic and is likely to come uncomfortably close to the coast late next week. Katia looks like she'll be an issue for next Saturday, too. Bah.
We had a scare earlier in the afternoon when it was discovered that Pippa's soochers (whatever) had burst. The thinking was that she'd have to go to the ER. But, Mum got the vet on the phone, and the final consensus was that she didn't have to go. I didn't follow the reasoning.
Only a brief installment today, but since I've been remiss lately...
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The old fashioned shop bell tinkled, a familiar, comfortable sound. Stopping inside the door, I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. Was it Jorge Luis Borges who had said his idea of Heaven was a library? I agreed with that one hundred percent, but a good bookshop – this bookshop – would make a more than sufficient substitute. It wasn’t so much that I could smell the bindings – the leather and the cloth – the paper, the ink themselves. It was more that they and all the words, innumerable as galaxies and stars, were somehow suffused through the atmosphere. I could feel them swirling around me, inviting, intoxicating.
“Hi, Cassie!” Ross’ voice recalled me from my reverie. I was unusually dreamy today. Maybe it was the weather. Maybe it was the anticipation of spending the afternoon with Ross. Stepping forward, I saw him behind the counter, serving a customer. He waved. “Come in, sweetheart. I’ll be with you as soon as I’m finished with Mrs. Halprin here.”
Returning his wave, I moved into the shop and up to the counter. At the far end was a display of bookmarks, letter openers and paperweights. One paperweight caught my eye, a flattened glass dome about four inches across, filled with hypnotic swirls of blue and green. I sighed, restraining the urge to reach for it.
Ross said, “There you are, Mrs. Halprin. I’m sure Missy will like The Enchanted Castle. You have a good day, now, and come back and see us soon.” The stout, gray-haired lady took a moment to settle her bags and bundles. She seemed to have a lot of them. The Frigate must have been her last stop.
Ross came over to me while she was getting organized. “Hi,” he said. Ross was a good guitar player, but his true talent was the ability to invest the simplest word, the merest syllable with volumes of meaning. Now, when he looked at me with those dark eyes and said, “hi,” the mundane greeting was suffused with sunshine and kisses and endless hours sitting together, saying nothing, just holding each other.
“Hi,” I answered, blowing back to him the love as you blow back a kiss you’ve caught on your fingertips. We didn’t need to say anything else for a moment, so we didn’t.
Thanks, listener. ♥ She seems to be all right. Dad just explained to m e that he thinks Mum was seeing the shaved area, you know how their tummies are all pink under the fur, and she got confused, thinking the wound was open. Dad said it is actually healing nicely. PHEW!
This is Farnham Park, the rehab center where I met John Boy. (We were cruel. We called him John Boy because his name was Walton. He didn't seem to mind.)
Took me a bit to realize you were talking about sutures. Whether sutures coming out would be a serious problem would depend on how far healing had advanced. But it's good news that there is absolutely no problem at all.
Beautiful photo!
ReplyDeleteBTW that Howard fella is first.
Beautiful indeed.
ReplyDeleteNot only is Howard Dean first, Granddaughters are first, second and third today! LOL!
ReplyDelete♡♡♡
So Hurricane Katia is churning up the Atlantic and is likely to come uncomfortably close to the coast late next week. Katia looks like she'll be an issue for next Saturday, too. Bah.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.wunderground.com/tropical/tracking/at201112.html
ReplyDeleteBeautiful bright sunny warm day happening here. Will do.
ReplyDeleteHi guys!
ReplyDeleteWe had a scare earlier in the afternoon when it was discovered that Pippa's soochers (whatever) had burst. The thinking was that she'd have to go to the ER. But, Mum got the vet on the phone, and the final consensus was that she didn't have to go. I didn't follow the reasoning.
Yikes!! Oh wow. I'm glad she didn't have to go, but still! That must have made a very tense time! Hoping all goes well. =^. .^=
ReplyDeleteOnly a brief installment today, but since I've been remiss lately...
ReplyDelete---
The old fashioned shop bell tinkled, a familiar, comfortable sound. Stopping inside the door, I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. Was it Jorge Luis Borges who had said his idea of Heaven was a library? I agreed with that one hundred percent, but a good bookshop – this bookshop – would make a more than sufficient substitute. It wasn’t so much that I could smell the bindings – the leather and the cloth – the paper, the ink themselves. It was more that they and all the words, innumerable as galaxies and stars, were somehow suffused through the atmosphere. I could feel them swirling around me, inviting, intoxicating.
“Hi, Cassie!” Ross’ voice recalled me from my reverie. I was unusually dreamy today. Maybe it was the weather. Maybe it was the anticipation of spending the afternoon with Ross. Stepping forward, I saw him behind the counter, serving a customer. He waved. “Come in, sweetheart. I’ll be with you as soon as I’m finished with Mrs. Halprin here.”
Returning his wave, I moved into the shop and up to the counter. At the far end was a display of bookmarks, letter openers and paperweights. One paperweight caught my eye, a flattened glass dome about four inches across, filled with hypnotic swirls of blue and green. I sighed, restraining the urge to reach for it.
Ross said, “There you are, Mrs. Halprin. I’m sure Missy will like The Enchanted Castle. You have a good day, now, and come back and see us soon.” The stout, gray-haired lady took a moment to settle her bags and bundles. She seemed to have a lot of them. The Frigate must have been her last stop.
Ross came over to me while she was getting organized. “Hi,” he said. Ross was a good guitar player, but his true talent was the ability to invest the simplest word, the merest syllable with volumes of meaning. Now, when he looked at me with those dark eyes and said, “hi,” the mundane greeting was suffused with sunshine and kisses and endless hours sitting together, saying nothing, just holding each other.
“Hi,” I answered, blowing back to him the love as you blow back a kiss you’ve caught on your fingertips. We didn’t need to say anything else for a moment, so we didn’t.
Ah. Sweet. . . .
ReplyDeleteThanks, listener. ♥ She seems to be all right. Dad just explained to m e that he thinks Mum was seeing the shaved area, you know how their tummies are all pink under the fur, and she got confused, thinking the wound was open. Dad said it is actually healing nicely. PHEW!
ReplyDeleteThis is Farnham Park, the rehab center where I met John Boy. (We were cruel. We called him John Boy because his name was Walton. He didn't seem to mind.)
ReplyDeletehttp://www.francisfrith.com/farnham-royal/photos/rehabilitation-centre-c1960_f195079/#utmcsr=google.com&utmcmd=referral&utmccn=google.com
=Hurrah!=
ReplyDeleteSuch a beautiful place. What did you do there and what did you like and dislike?
ReplyDeleteTook me a bit to realize you were talking about sutures. Whether sutures coming out would be a serious problem would depend on how far healing had advanced. But it's good news that there is absolutely no problem at all.
ReplyDeleteSounds like some town nearby is having early Labor Day fireworks.
ReplyDeleteIt's a rehab center. I was there in the Fall of '82 and again in the Summer of '83 for various kinds of physical and occupational therapy.
ReplyDelete