VAYA CON DIOS

Yesterday, there was a memorial in Oakland for our friend Barbara, who, you will remember, jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge about a month ago. There is a photo of all those who attended each wearing some piece of red as it was her favorite color. Quite a sea of love and respect.

Her choice stays with me. I spend time thinking of her and that choice every day.

I hadn't seen Barbara in a year or more, maybe since the Christmas Eve party at Denis' and Erik's where Barbara wowed my brother Carl (who would be dead himself four months later) with her remarkable sparkle and wit. If there is any kind of great beyond where spirits mingle, I sure expect Carl and Barbara are chatting it up.

Besides wearing red, I was told a margarita was in order. B and A- J- took me out to a Thai restaurant where margaritas were not to be had. I had a Thai mojito (great) and Betts had a pomegranate metropolitian (likewise). We toasted Babarba and enjoyed our drinks. (And dinner, too.)






Tupie came home from the hospital on Friday and once I got over my own trauma I went back upstairs to hang around with him. He wanted out, which is a bit rare for him. He was at the catnip in no time. He's back to eating, without his appetite stimulant and all the pathology reports came back negative so he is good to go. For which we all say "YAY!"

And little Miep-y is feeling mo' bettah, too. Back to her bed and bath patrols. She does not like taking her antibiotics and shuns me for quite awhile after a her daily dose.

And I am trying to get back on track after, as I have detailed, from a suprise attack. The whole brouhaha derailed me ... and for that I am righteously pissed off ... I went through my procrastination dance today, trying to get my living room back to its recent glory. I was not entirely successful, but, as it happily often the case, I made substantial progress.

And tomorrow is another day ... another day ... another day ... another day ...


Vaya con Dios, BSB!