HOLD ON TO YOUR HATS, KIDDOS.

I had a pretty good day. Look away from the computer screen and remember to breathe.

No. Did not get a job. Did not fall in love. Did not even reorganize the bathroom cabinet.

Still, I had an okay, not too much crying, day. I'll go even further: I had some fun and forgot about all the scary stuff for awhile.

As I was working on occupylive, my friend SMS called. We were checking in on our respective journeys to sanity and stability, and given some of our past sturm und drang, it is always sweet when we have some minutes to connect, even if it is only over the telephone. Support and understanding, including that of you, dear readers, is crucial.

Louise and Iris had both given me some excellent notes/suggestions for my resume and I was finally able to spend a couple of hours continuing to hone that instrument for defeat of unemployment and even have a better attitude about myself.

Last night, I had staid up late to post ads to sell my clandestine Christian Louboutins, and I got some traction today. One person said she is sending me money, but I will only believe it when I get a check. Still it was money mojo.

I almost gave up on going to MOMA with my friend Pat tonight. Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy was playing and it was all sold out. Plus it was raining. Both Pat and I were about ready to bail, but decided to at least stand in the wait list line. I was there earlier than Pat (see! it can happen) and was reminded of the splendid silliness of art museum habitue´s. (That is not an apostrophe, rather a badly placed accent mark.) Movie nuts are unlike nuts of other genres. Or maybe I just don't see them.

When I worked at the Pacific Film Archive, there was a sign inside the ticket booth that said something like "Mrs. Turner. No skirt. No ticket." Lots of older, somewhat lost, folks turned up at the movies religiously. Maybe because they got discount tickets. Maybe because it reminded them of their past in some way. Maybe because that's all they had to look forward to. But they were there.  And as soon as I moved to New York, I saw the same folks at MOMA and The Film Forum. Ah! The queing and jostling for seats. Ah! The seduction/derision of the museum guards. It's just amusing.

So, Pat and I went outside, as instructed to wait to see if there would be Will Call tickets. As we had already waited for a bit, it seemed the intelligent thing to do. A fellow, in his 60's, quite dapper, approached me and asked which line this one was. I replied that we were waiting to see if we could get tickets. Whereupon, he pulled out two, gave them to me and Pat, and escorted us into the line inside.

It was just kind of grand in this silly New York way. There had Pat and I been, rather discreetly bemoaning our struggles when we were plucked out of the morass and hastened to the front of the line. It was kind of like being blessed in a small way.

Here are some New York Holiday Decoration photos.  Not very good, but be of good cheer anyway,