Hi. Well, that part was easy enough. Where are the trumpets, the banners, the fanfare? Not here. It seems I’m back with a whisper, so lean in a little closer, please. Actually, that’s not really necessary, is it?. The room isn’t crowded. Chances are that you’re the only one here. So, sit for a minute. Perhaps you’d like to take off your shoes and run your sock feet through the carpet while I put on a pot of tea? Maybe you can catch me up on you while I catch you up on me.
It appears I’ve been off the record for almost a year. It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long and I have to squint my eyes quite tight to even begin to see what the sum of those days are. Spring is a blur of sunshine culminating in a Manhattan birthday blowout that is itself a blur, but of a much darker shade. Summer is a hot, sweaty opium dream, a large part of which is gone for good, and at no real loss. It was my first full Louisiana summer and though I was only 120 miles away from the Mississippi summers that I know and function quite well in, I came to learn quickly that the Louisiana summer is quite a different beast altogether. And now it’s fall, which has been fitful and tempestuous what with its false starts, hits and misses. Nothing turns my head around like 20 degree changes in temperature in a couple of hour’s time every few days.
So, I obviously need to keep better records, and I find myself once again arranging the bits to keep up with the days and maybe make some sense of them, also. Or, more likely, just add to the confusion. Not to say that there aren’t some clearly illuminated spots mixed in with all those shadows, and some are definitely worth revisiting. But hold on, the water is boiling. Oh, and you say you have to go anyways? Well, stop back by, we’ll do tea next time.