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It doesn't get any better than this.
Mini-travelog behind the cut )
theoldwolf: (Default)
I was up late last night, again. Really late. So I chose to sleep until I woke up, which meant Sunday Meetings were a no-go. Sitting at my desk in the quiet this morning, the little princess phone hooked to my landline gave a tiny rattle - that's all it does these days, so if I'm not near it and it's not quiet, I don't hear it. The caller ID had a strange number on it, so on a whim I picked it up.

As it turns out, it was a choice friend of mine, an Italian gentleman whom, along with his British wife, I had met in Kinshasa, DRC while I was traveling there on business. Lovlier people you could not meet, and I hadn't talked to them in 9 years. At the time they made their home in South Africa, and my friend now shuttles between the UK and Italy, he having lost his dear companion about 3 years ago.

I was sorry to hear about Ruby's passing, but thrilled that Romeo - yes, that's his name - felt moved to think kindly of me and pick up the phone after so many years. I'm grateful I was at home in just the right circumstances to receive the call, and to get caught up a bit. Now, of course, we can communicate via email.

It's a recurring theme with me, but relationships are all we get to take with us when we leave this world. It's why my friends are so much more valuable to me than mammon. I live daily in the anticipation of taking forward into the next phase of existence the joyous associations I've had in this life.

My Sunday has been thoroughly made.
theoldwolf: (Default)
Huge hugs to [livejournal.com profile] r_caton who for no ruddy good reason gifted me with some wonderful old time radio CD's - Glums Take It From Here and Lines from Grandpa's Forehead

'Tis good to have friends...
theoldwolf: (Default)
From an associate, no charge, unexpected:



And this, from some folks who served me as a visiting dignitary - They have a very loose grip on the concept of gratitude, I can tell you.



Such people are worth more than gold or silver.
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Last night my neighbor, a delightful lady who is here in Salt Lake serving a mission, came knocking on my door wondering if I had any chocolate. She had had a rough day, and needed comfort food... she knows I'm a wicked sinner and came next door for a fix, and a listening ear.

Well, I was out of unhealthy stuff, so I dragged her down to Smith's marketplace and we each got a small carton of ice cream: she, some Ben & Jerry's triple-caramel obscenity or other, and I, Haägen-Daßzøðþœq Chocolate-Chip Cookie Dough. We spent the next two hours chatting and getting a severe ice-cream buzz, and I sent her home comforted.

From experience, I know that such depredations don't last long. So I loaded up a pint jar full of chocolate raisins (one of her favorite things), and left them on her doorstep with the following note:



So just a few minutes ago, here's this knock on my door, and she's bringing back a tupperware full of crystallized diabetes. She had just recently been to Okinawa to visit her son and his family - he married a Japanese girl, and they are raising their kids over there - and so she wanted to share this treat with me.

100% pure cane sugar, refined to perfection. Consistency: similar to maple sugar candy. Flavor: similar to blackstrap molasses. Effect:

I can't figure out why this blessed monitor won't stop shaking, I think I need to get it serviced...
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Not I, in this case, but over at the Pibgorn forum, one of our numbers has lost his Miss Oreo, a faithful companion of long-standing. In response, another forumite posted the following poem, which I felt was worth sharing in its entirety,

behind the cut for the sake of friends' pages )

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