west fourth, 1971

the earrings were exquisite: tiny handcrafted crosses, delicate, silver, shimmering. i caressed the rough edges.
"would it be possible to buy just ONE of these?"
"excuse me?"
"only one ear is pierced, y'see. i only need one."
"..i'll take a look. maybe i have some odd earrings in the drawer.."
"oh, but it's these i love. these are so beautiful. i'll just buy the pair then, i don't mind... really!"
the purchase, rung up, was - puzzlingly -a fraction of the price on the tag. protests were waved away with a doting smile.
they were her young son's very first creation, the woman explained. he had made her promise, heart crossed, to sell them only to someone who really appreciated them.
and for no more, heart crossed again, than a single dollar.

pasta arrabbiata

"made your choice?" she sighed. her impatient "YET?" was clearly inferred.
we ruffled slowly through the menu. again.
"hmmmmm..."
we were getting good at this: it's an art, dawdling.
her agitation inspired no sympathy at all.
the restaurant was deserted. we like to linger: they clearly detested lingerers.
"in, fed, and out the door in half an hour," the reviews exclaimed.
we were determined to be the exception to the rule.
we were.
but they will not smile, should we step through the door again.

fools give you reasons

"knock knock"
"who's there?"
"sam and janet"
"sam and janet who?"
"sam and janet evening"*
well: enchanted would be a mild exaggeration, but after walking, taking pictures, admiring the new exhibitions in the FOAM, and walking some more, it was very pleasant indeed to catch our breath in a colourful little restaurant on the van baerlestraat. we ate and drank well; we made fine conversation. i decided, on this queensday-eve, that comfortable familiarity is entrancing enough.
*it took a long hike through google to find just one knock-knock joke that even inspired a wry smile. this was it.

marmalade

it's a long climb. the stairway winds heavenward into foreverness. there is no end in sight.
down below, when she began, she leaped and bounded. she realized that she was ascending, but was more aware of the height attained than of the steps surmounted.
lately, she has begun to relish every degree of the journey, resting thankfully on each landing and savouring the shadows* and the light. she looks downward and appreciates her achievements; she gazes upward and, optimistic, anticipates the challenges to come.
*photo friday

one single step

perhaps someone suddenly realized that their specially-purchased-by-post-order-acupressure-insoles weren't doing what they had promised, and decided to ditch them then and there...but why, then, just one? perhaps someone mistakenly assumed that this extra support would stick around, even in sandals...but wouldn't they have noticed its escape? perhaps someone dropped their saturday shopping bag, and completely overlooked this one item during the rescue operation. whatever the case, this single footprint on the quay in hoorn was the first step* in a stroll of whimsical conjecture.
*theme thursday

the usual, please

very satisfactory indeed: a balmy afternoon, a few hours with nothing on the agenda, a table looking out onto one of the liveliest corners in amsterdam - and a waitress with a good memory. the sidewalk part of the café is crowded, trams
and bicycles fly by, and our order appears on our table without us having said a word. magic.

el no es un amigo

he is not a friend, he says: he is an acquaintance.
whatever he is, today is his birthday, and i wish him - unconditionally - a life blessed with love, fulfillment and perfect happiness.
that's what acquaintances are for.

and sore surprised

spring never ceases to amaze. i'm convinced that a thousand trees shivered into blossom overnight.

and..
lalaland: morning platform, alkmaar-noord.

sunny side up

i can't resist an english breakfast. so, even though the ferry had tossed and tumbled through the north sea all night, feeling for all the world like a tiny rowboat at the mercy of angry elements, i prodded the husband awake at first light and we braced our way to the dining deck. we had the whole place to ourselves, with on one side endless beans and eggs and crispy toast, and on the other, endless water*, now complacent and congenial.
*photo friday

green green grass of home

for ten years, until she died at christmas, our rabbit roamed our tiny garden during the hours that we were there to see that she came to no harm. never one to limit herself to the grass handkerchief we call a lawn, she would hop happily around the shrubbery and help herself to anything with vertical ambitions. delphiniums - my Great Gardening Dream - never reached half a meter: chomp! she regarded our pot of herbs as a personal feast, and jumped, making herself supremely comfortable among the rosemary and the bay: chomp! and each and every bulb that reached for the sky was nipped in the proverbial bud: chomp!
(rabbits have very efficient teeth.)
my flowers were more horizontal and lifeless than they were flourishing, but she was a very happy bunny. fine by me.
but now she's gone, alas. everything blooms brilliantly. but in the patch above the spot that we laid her to rest - unlikely but true - the hyancinths have chosen to recline.
in fond memory?
i hope so.