As I was snarfling down my short stack, BAM, time warp. At first I thought it was only the vaguely generic disco bleating overhead, then possibly the gaggle of poofters loudly discussing The White Party (surely that doesn't still exist, does it?) But then I realized the table one over from me so forcibly reminded me of a post I put up three years ago HERE .
|Like this sort of, but, you know, with more clothes.
Of course, young people now are so flexible about their sexuality, not like my hidebound old contemporaries, and freer to make a spectrum of intimacy choices and blahablahablah, but at lunch today, just as on the subway then, I thought to myself "Honey, no guy who wants to give you advice about your shoes is ever going to be Your Man."
And I took pictures of my garden for MJ over at Infomaniac, who is demanding them from all her readers.
|A focus this time of the year is the big ass echium, the pointy purple flowers that look they were designed by Dr. Seuss.
|Even up close they look like they began as props for Star Trek.
|Campanula are pretty and they're the result of a bunch I just dug up in a friend's yard and plopped down in a bare spot.
|Wall o' Jasmine, directly beneath my bedroom window. Heavenly on a still evening after a warm day.
|Watsonia, related to gladiola and which thrive here. I always mean to put in a bunch more, but always forget until way too late in the year, like now.