We know that we have been in absentia
but we are totally discombobulated by the new blogger format.
Emma's New York stories are being drafted, but we have a little nugget from the Department of Serendipity that we would like to share.
Some months ago we were rummaging through our desk drawer in search of something we undoubtedly did not find. We discovered an undeveloped roll film, it has been staring at us ever since.
...segue, the new Loretta Lynne CD, is, well, frankly righteous.
So it stared and stared, and we stared back. It intimidated us a little, it coulda been ours, but it coulda been our Former Spouse's, and if it were our Former Spouse's it could have contained graphic material, and not of us, if you follow...
We took our New York photos in for a chemical wash, and thought we would take the Unknown Roll in as well. Ya know, just for shits and giggles and curiosity killed the cat and all that.
Fate took our hand to the unknown photos first. The first picture was of a man we thought we didn't know, and yet somehow familiar. It was the wall and the wainscotting that made clarity blossom, the unfamiliar man was the Chef, one of our great loves.
Funny what time and distance can do. We were so sure we would have known him, the sound of his voice, the breadth of his hands, and there he is on our desk in the office and it took us a full minute before total cognizance.
The other photos were of some damning evidence of Ms. Brown and I gacked out on coke, having solved the world's problems in an all night natter-fest, I can still recall that we went out for red wind at eight in the morning to "sober up".
Other photos were of our bar tending gig, and long stay chez les frogs, of French Toast before he was my lover.
That was four years ago.
And it felt a little odd.
Getting ahead of ourself about the New York stories, the stitches came out fine, our physician had high praise for Dr. Smith. The black eye is fading to a charming shade of puce. And we have photographic evidence that Dr. Smith is just as delicious as our blood soaked, Armagnac brain thought he was.
but we are totally discombobulated by the new blogger format.
Emma's New York stories are being drafted, but we have a little nugget from the Department of Serendipity that we would like to share.
Some months ago we were rummaging through our desk drawer in search of something we undoubtedly did not find. We discovered an undeveloped roll film, it has been staring at us ever since.
...segue, the new Loretta Lynne CD, is, well, frankly righteous.
So it stared and stared, and we stared back. It intimidated us a little, it coulda been ours, but it coulda been our Former Spouse's, and if it were our Former Spouse's it could have contained graphic material, and not of us, if you follow...
We took our New York photos in for a chemical wash, and thought we would take the Unknown Roll in as well. Ya know, just for shits and giggles and curiosity killed the cat and all that.
Fate took our hand to the unknown photos first. The first picture was of a man we thought we didn't know, and yet somehow familiar. It was the wall and the wainscotting that made clarity blossom, the unfamiliar man was the Chef, one of our great loves.
Funny what time and distance can do. We were so sure we would have known him, the sound of his voice, the breadth of his hands, and there he is on our desk in the office and it took us a full minute before total cognizance.
The other photos were of some damning evidence of Ms. Brown and I gacked out on coke, having solved the world's problems in an all night natter-fest, I can still recall that we went out for red wind at eight in the morning to "sober up".
Other photos were of our bar tending gig, and long stay chez les frogs, of French Toast before he was my lover.
That was four years ago.
And it felt a little odd.
Getting ahead of ourself about the New York stories, the stitches came out fine, our physician had high praise for Dr. Smith. The black eye is fading to a charming shade of puce. And we have photographic evidence that Dr. Smith is just as delicious as our blood soaked, Armagnac brain thought he was.
posted by emma at
10:50 PM
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