omnis, good to have greetings from Shir! I assume she is busy kicking ass and making the world a better place, as usual?

Ya know. I honestly don't know. She, being the awesome person that she is, was checking in on me, and asking about my dad. She promised a follow up email with responses to my flurry of questions, asking how she is doing. Her response ended with:

Right now, I'm very tired and have to go to bed, so with your permission I'll reply later on things on my end (mostly good, but really, really, busy. Hey, did I mention I got to interview Greg Dulli, the frontman I really really love? That kind of made my life).

That's about all I got. Except to say, she is a wonderful person. And I wish she were more local than on the otherside of the world.

Taylor Kitsch played one of the main characters in Friday Night Lights.

So cool that Shir got to interview Greg Dulli! I listened to Afghan Whigs quite a bit in college.

Waiting for client to leave so we can start work. I wish I could take pictures of the cacophony of artwork here. Everything from a life size Marilyn on his night stand, to a hand beaded chair that looks like it would belong to an African tribal chief, to outsider art... I've never seen so much art in one house. The backyard alone has a torpedo shark, a four foot Beyonce the chicken, a huge praying mantis, a life size gator, and about ten other sculptures. Madness. Yay for supporting artists?

~ma for Connie's husband.

Yay for Steph's brother getting treatment!

a four foot Beyonce the chicken

You have GOT to take a picture and send this to the Bloggess.

He is very cute, but every time I look at his name I think "Bet it's not on his birth certificate." But who knows? Names are weird.

Oh my, I was traveling a couple days, but couldn't skip because I had to follow along to find out how Teppy's brother was making out.

It is good to read that he is getting the physical and emotional support he needs. Doses of strength and courage ~ma sent his way. My bother worked in rehab at a state hospital in NY for a couple decades. His patients were court ordered for the most part. They usually had them for 2-3 months. Long enough to get them through the physical trauma of withdrawal, but then they were released to go figure out the emotional and psychological part on their own. Well, lists of support groups and such, but he still had a lot of repeaters. It is so wonderful that your brother has a supportive family, and dog! It helps so much.

Lots of healthy heart~ma to the DH of Connie.

le n, I would love to, but it feels like an invasion of privacy. It's not visible from the street, and the client is a doctor and particular about things.

Kitch is one of those words with a few meanings. I'm betting that, as a last name, it just means kitchen, and comes from an ancestor who worked as a cook.

Sparky, I've only gotten the group communication so far, but as I said in the email, I'm MORE than happy to help her on your behalf. You have done so much for ME.

Since I seem to be the one closest to the feeding station, I will gladly go every day.

I will say though, my regular routes are saturated with flyers. I need a bit more guidance. I'll e-her directly.

Sigh. The death of a friendship can be so...I dunno...weird.

I mentioned the wedding I officiated in the park a couple of weeks ago, right?

The ex-wife of the groom, who was a close friend of mine years ago, has decided that my doing that for 'the psycho' means that I have betrayed her so totally that she can never forgive me.

My favorite part of the conversation was hearing that I should have called her when the idea first came up so that she could tell me not to do it.

When I fell through the hole in the world after Bartleby died, _he_ came over twice a week (he lives totally on the other side of town...she lives 7 doors down the block), gave me medical treatments for free, brought me food, heard my darkest thoughts without flinching, never judged my weakness and now calls me at least every other week to check in.

Standing up for him...through a roughly 4 minute ceremony...seemed like the very least I could do.

She came over once, took me for a walk once and suggested that I 'enjoy my freedom' and get over it. That was two days after Bartleby died.

Over the last couple of years, except for some lovely holiday dinners, I haven't heard from her except when she needs a favor.

Frankly, I thought she was on better terms with the ex and didn't think that my participation in the wedding had anything to do with her.

I stopped her on the street this morning to thank her for being a minor hero (my landlord was robbed at gunpoint again and she witnessed the getaway enough to give the police some useful information) but was met with such a mean-girl attitude, I knew something was up.

She called after I got down the block to tell me what a terrible human I am.

Sigh.