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.

As they say in France Il neige.
But here in the Middling City it is like so appropriate to say au jourd'hui Il neige beaucoup.
The city is awash with snow, and it's not letting up for hours to come, according to the voice on the radio.
As is MC custom, people are driving like nincompoops, decades of snow driving experience sailing out their wintry car windows every premier snowfall as they stomp on brakes, turn too tightly into a turn, accelerate with abandon.
With every e-correspondence today have been sending out mad holiday driver advisories.
Went to see my rockstar financial adviso yesterday, who actually saw fit to whiteboard, as they say in the corporate spheres, some fun and succinct facts about The World of Finance.
I alternately - by design - looked serious, then bemused. I was trying, really Yours Truly was, to follow all the sub-genres of stocks, and then the various markets for bonds. I did walk away with the term bond fund in my mind.
Time to brace myself for the next whitened foray.
A pal yesterday texted me a phrase that I will be using in a pending pome because, as You know, good writers borrow but great poets appropriate entire excellent phrasings.

Phrases of Love, Love.

As we Solid Gold Bookers read Ariel Dorfman's Death and the Maiden for our latest reading, we en massed at just buffalo lit center's presentation of same at Babeville. The Church. Ani's Church. Asbury Hall. Home of Hallwalls and RBR, where several friends of Yours Truly work.
Zoom ahead in this past weekend's planned itinerary that included one party in Middling City's University Heights District in a beautiful arts and crafts home.
This District is the melting pot island district of owner-occupied homes, student-rented duplexes, and locally-owned shoppes bordered by Bailey Avenue and Main Street.
At this party I noted that from that moment on I would prefer that my property be referred to in perpetuity as Nanceville.
It was fortunate that I was even at this party and had not been abducted, having shown up at the wrong house with a bottle of nice white wine in my arms. I had been given the wrong house address - two of the numbers were correct, though, I must report.
This weekend also included the grand opening hoopla for Heady's new vet office digs in the MC, replete with treats for animals and people. A man grabbed a dog biscuit that did look very human cookie and shoved it into his mouth. You are not supposed to be eating that, I stated. He probably thought I meant it in a dietary, holiday-watch-your-weight way. I did not. He was shoving a biscuit into his hungry party mouth.
I did Polaroids of pets and Santa. The man designated to be Santa was not there yet so I asked the other owner's son to be Santa and he obliged. At one point I saw that he was napping under his Santa suit and, when he awoke, he said I don't want to be Santa any more and marched down the hallway to ditch the costume.
The next Santa was a man who relished the role, as well as posing with the ferrets in attendance. All the dogs were well-behaved. A rat came, too. No cats, no snakes.
Hung a few more animal portraits and rearranged a few others. Replaced one snake image with another of Samantha, the port I made of her at Harvey Her Dad Siegal's office.
After that ran over to Deb & Jamie's for an expedient visit.
'Tis the season for visits large and small, gifts large and small, joys large and small, shiny plants large and small.
Time for more making, doing, large and small.

Petite and grandiose Love.