The perfect guest and a quiet breath

Just had one of those perfect summer week-ends, with perfect temperature, perfect wine, perfect food, and the perfect guest...

Thanks M for a great visit, lots of fun, lots of laughs, all the thoughtful gestures and telling me over and over how fabulous I was! You absolutely and divinely did live up to all the hype! :o)))




So, we're about 2 weeks away from either an unbelievable joy, that I still can barely imagine, or a horrible let-down if we learn that we have to wait yet another month... in which case we'll surely bust our wine budget. Either way, there will be tears involved. The only question left then is, will there be champagne with those tears?... or a stiff glass of scotch?...

Life is still happening, but I feel like I'm sitting in an old rocking chair, in an old house, with just the sound of an old clock ticking oh so slowly, second by endless second. I see the world out the window, but I can't hear it. I'm busy trying to breathe very, very softly, because the only other alternative is to hold my breath, and 2 weeks is just too long a time to do that. And I'm crossing my fingers and my toes and even my eyes in case that could be of any help, hoping they refer at least another 7 days...

OK, time to hear some news, I'm getting cramps here.