As Bach violin concertos frolic along the four stray feline pals lounge just outside my door and occasionally Bootsy scratches at the door for my companionship. Even beat-to-shit Faux Extra is lying at my steps while Extra (my most perfect Angel of Darkness) is aloof and Tiger is just plain ol' effusive.
Last night was first Friday in practically my entire lifetime that I did not have to rush about and make images for my column WhatHasHappened. I wore a skirt. I carried my little Coach bag. I drank wine. I supped with Jen and Eric. Went to nouveau O and dug the food but not the suburban vibe happening around us. We were in a parking lot. There was at the end of our meal the Chippewa Street-appropriate thud-thud of top40 dance tunes. Our waiter sucked. When he inquired about dessert I said I want banana pudding. He thought I was joking. I want banana pudding. They had none.
He returned to our table with a comp dessert - banana mousse with macademia nuts in a dark chocolate crust. Not banana puddding but sufficient.
Putting together work and received a fab call from one of my patrons of the art genre, looking for more of my originals to give to her friends - this time a family in Italia.
I sign off, artful, restful and Bachful.
Love.