Saturday, December 15, 2007

Meandered into the favoured flower emporium of Yours Truly yesterday to purchase armloads of green things - to be shot for still-pending holiday card.
As I know the proprietress, talked shop - both floral and imagistic.
Monday YT will be high atop a ladder making an overall of the proceedings in the shop for a holiday card that I will upload on the spot.
Pixels darting through camera to laptop to netherworld to printing joint and back again to the Middling City, to the femme of flowers.
Had a very Perfect gig at Salvatore's Italian Gardens last night.
Must I say that the holiday decs were resplendent, transformative, Renaissance, Victorian, Hallmark, Barnum all at once.
At the rear door, where YT had just slogged through about one hundred or so seniors about to board a touring bus to Anywheresville, USA, there was an ultra-complicated tableau of lights, reams of cottony faux snow, car-sized tree ornaments, and oso much more.
I had the urge to dive into the center of this beckoning, warm holiday womb - perhaps not unlike those who, at the precipice of The Falls, get hypnotized and just fall in with Nature.
Afterwards headed to the holiday gathering of where I once worked, where I worked for fifteen hyper-adrenalized years.
Jon and I decided to do a little aesthetic rearranging in the kitchen - to move a very stellar piece by YT (Snake in Martini) into a place of greater prominence, switching it with a wall clock.
There have been two other occasions when YT has shown up at a friend's home and installed in immediate present an artwork. Once a painting that I now wish I had back, that emigrated to the h.q. of an org that deals with children on the skids - and the children love it, I have heard. The other occasion was the installation of a very large piece as a very special gift to a very special one.
After the former workplace party, which was a lot of fun, especially after I located the sole bottle of white + ice cubes, it was onwards to Club Ukie as I've dubbed it, the Ukrainian Social Hall on Military Road, where Roma et al tend the very lost-in-70's bar.
There is a nearby wallpaper that resembles an EKG in process, in process, and in process still.
Never did meet up with Reese and his mysteriosa last night or this fine a.m.
Onwards into what apparently is a ruse, this speculative blizzard that seems to have blown past the MC at this juncture.
Just in case there is a can of chicken soup in my pocket for one just never knows, now does one.

Meteorological, speculating Love.