Here's the things that I've done in the last week:
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Surrogate friends. As good as real ones. |
1. Hosted surrogate friends, who are now new friends. Living on the roundest bit of the earth's butt cheek, we've had trouble inducing friends who are closer to the world's... what?... sternum, I guess, to come visit. Price, distance, time, blah blah blah. I get it. It's far and money is a finite resource for those of us who don't own major multinational corporations. Really, it's stupid that we don't own something bigger than ourselves as it would provide us with many, many more rights than we currently have as mere people, but I digress. Our friends. They're not visiting. So, we've put the call out to accept friends of friends. Friends of friends of friends. Distant relatives on tour? Send them my way. Goddaughter on a round-the-world ticket? Yes. I will meet her for coffee and if she's house-trained, she can stay with us.
Last week, two friends of a dear friend hopped into town for a couple days and I caught myself pretending that my dear friend was smuggled somewhere in the confines of these friendly men's skin. Something like an alien in sheep's clothing, except neither my friend nor my new friends require disguise. Anyhoo, that was last week, and that's over. The house is empty again and we await the next random stranger to be sent our way.
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Bats under a blue sky. |
2. We went to Sydney. You may be thinking, a lady of leisure requires no vacation. Well. That's probably true. But I didn't mind the respite from long afternoons inspecting longer chapters for some sort of treasure worthy of salvage. (Hint: my chest does not runneth over.) Sydney is a magic city that deserves the dreams of all those forlorn itinerants looking for the greenest grass. Everyone should want to live in Sydney. I kind of want to live in Sydney. Although, like New York, I would prefer to do it with the infinite resources that would come if only I recognized the importance of profit-taking. As it is, I'm now blogging for two Wellington sites for free. I have a non-profit heart. (It does not come with a tax exemption.)
Here's a little tidbit you may not know about Sydney: in its Botanical Garden, there is a colony of bats that defies all nocturnal apocrypha. Under a brilliant sun, the furry beasts hung upside down bleating at the injustice of it all. Or maybe it was a song. They were loud and they occasionally dive-bombed us, which is what led me to think they may have some unjust score to settle. I promise you, I did nothing to set them off.
3. Having returned home, I can happily report that this home, where I sit and stare over waves gently toppling over each other and I smell the pungent brine of sun-soaked seaweed, is the best home. For now. Yay home!
That's all. Please enjoy.
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