Monday, 5 May 2014

Instructions For A Bad Day.

The weekend was even good. Dave made chicken soup that fed us all for two days. Max had a sleepover and Rocco went to a pool party and didn't need floaties. Phoebe Rose came up to stay, Tim rang me for a kale salad recipe and made me laugh so hard I wheezed. Life hums along of its own accord.

We all braved the chilly Katoomba wind and went to a party at Meredith and Kevins house. Dave often tells me about his clients, so for a while it was all Meredith this and Meredith that. I thought Meredith was a dear little old lady with a few cats and lovely teacup collection. No no - Dave showed me her Instagram account one day. She is a young, brunette, incredibly vibrant artist.

"You never told me Meredith was hot!"

He built her this studio from scratch:

Meredith sent me one of her books with a lovely note after Cam died. People are so kind. It was her 29th birthday party yesterday and all of these people came from all over to celebrate. I met her for the first time, and fascinated by my preconceptions I wrote her a poem called "Things I Can Tell About Meredith Just From Looking At Her Art."

She told me she would read it when she was tucked up in bed that night. Good. (She does have an amazing teacup collection.) Her website is HERE.

Later, when I was all tucked up in bed I watched a video on my portable communication device under the covers.

(Thank you Vicky for the link.)

Now I know why I love weeds so much.

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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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