On a sort of date night, kids cared for by her brother, they settled down and we chatted. It's been a very long time, but the comfort still there. We express our frustration at the insanity of our world. We talk houses and cats, as Eleanor warily approaches and retreats and re-approaches, until she's standing on both of them, kneading and being petted. We laugh and relax and simply enjoy each other's company.
The game people came by last evening, and it ran late, to the approval of K, who needed to work at midnight, and didn't really want to drive back home first. So, we talked and dithered up to 2300. Eleanor had more socializing. And K found my wool shawl* I'd gotten in Saudi long ago. It's delightful when people notice and love the stuff I most love, unprompted, on their own. Like a stranger whose favorite book is one you love as well, and they are intelligent and funny - so their opinion is worthwhile.
Seems a good time to find attachments and throw nets to each other, draw in and warm up.
Looking through posts from ten years ago, found this wonderful story from Language Log.
OPA!
I'm in New York for the American Philosophical Association's Eastern Division meetings, and I'm having breakfast at the Art Cafe on Broadway, at 52nd Street. It's all bustling efficiency, staff zooming hither and thither. Two eggs up with bacon and wheat toast arrive within a couple of minutes. Suddenly there's a shattering crash from behind the counter, and the Greek proprietor is looking down mournfully at the coffee cup he dropped on the tile floor to smash into a thousand pieces. Four or five nearby waitresses turn in shock. For two seconds of silence they stare at the scene of the accident. And then one of the waitresses yells excitedly: "Opa!" — the traditional Greek cry of encouragement to dancers and musicians and drinkers at those wild parties where they smash plates on the floor as they dance just to show what a great time is being had. And then the entire staff cracks up, and they all resume working at high speed, but now laughing till tears come to their eyes — the boss included. It's only breakfast time in New York, but already, thanks to one well-chosen interjection, it's like a party.
Posted by Geoffrey K. Pullum at December 30, 2005 11:06 PM
A favorite photo of Dylan.
A much younger Moby.
From four years ago. Under the *wool shawl.
8 comments:
That is one beautiful cat.
I'm too old to march now so I'll be in the background, shouting "Opa!"
yes, it's an interesting switch, isn't it? taking a situation and flipping it around takes great flexibility and openness! opa! to the old year and to the new!
Cat,
He's our panther.
Every pebble adds to the avalanche.
pc,
Flexibility of every kind is vital.
(O)...Have a good new year....
gz,
You too!
Happy, cozy, flexible, wonder-filled New Year to you all, dearest Z!
That's interesting ... In Holland, Opa is what you call your Grandpa . Something else entirely is said if you drop a cup .
Rou,
Especially flexible, yes, thanks.
S&S,
It's stressed a bit differently, but yeah. In Holland I'm guessing the cup drop word is closer to "shit."
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