When MTM has a REALLY CRAPPY DAY, we have an established routine.
1. Make reservations for a preposterous dinner outing.
2. Go out for night caps at our favorite watering hole.
3. Talk about inane, stupid, ridiculous things to keep from rehashing the REALLY CRAPPY DAY.
Our number three for Friday? Answering this question: WHO IS THE SEXIEST MAN/WOMAN ALIVE RIGHT NOW?
If I could meet any living person, I would use all my chips to have lunch with Elaine Stritch. For most of my life, I have followed her. Studied her. Adored her.
Yes, I know she has an incendiary temper. Yes, I admit she is a diva. Yes, even I know she was an idiot to dump Ben Gazzara for Rock Hudson.
We interrupt this Rotary mission of culture building and goodwill for a rant. My rant. Because Star Wars Episode VII is being cast, and I just want to know.........why can't I be Princess Leia?
It's not a stupid question.
Steam blew out of her mouth and fogged her glasses against the backdrop of the night sky. Rubber-and-leather-clad feet crunched on gravel, echoing against the whip of flags in the wind, the sirens, the thrum of jet engines. Even with the ghostly pencil of stone carving a swath between a crescent moon and two planets, she sighed. The National Mall on a windy night wasn't her idea of a fun slog after a zig-zagging day of work, dashing from place to place to place around the District.
I found myself at loose ends yesterday. Nothing on the calendar. The slate wiped clean. My head still swimming. Tears raining all over the place. A lot to say, and no one to say it to.
If I had any meds, I would've taken them, because even I couldn't stand me. (It's a by-product of where I'm at right now. I'm not generally crazy.)
(I don't think.)