A shorty to say thank you for the advice. I never would have thought of that, simpleton that I am, but it makes perfect sense. I intend to tell Real as soon as I can, but not just now, because the poor beleaguered woman has had another loss; this time an old family friend.

In sundry other news: I seem to have made an impulse buy in the shape of a Very Shiny Phone. I don't think of myself as someone who owns Shiny Things, and in fact have pretentious Buy Local From Local Craftspeople also Upcycling/Secondhand and Choosing Public Transport Ideas about  myself, but there we have it. Or I do. 

I fear the Shiny Thing. It's so seductive. I have already outsourced all possible tasks normally entrusted to my brain and memory. Between this and the fact I was out until 12! o! clock! last night and then couldn't sleep because I was an overstimulated introvert, and so had to do a lot of obsessive running over the conversations and events of the night, I am in a befuddled condition. While revelling last night, (daringly downing a half glass! of red! wine!) I fell into conversation with a cobbler who disclosed to me all kinds of stories about the specific famous people she cobbles (for?). Quite a bit of information about lifts, cuban heels, hammer toes and "troll feet", and how these appear on the red carpet was revealed. I mean, is there no Cobblers' Code of Ethics anymore? What kind of a world do we live in?


Talk soon, all. Take care of yourselves. 



You must be a very good listener. People keep wanting to tell you strange gossip.


Poor Real Friend. Poor poor woman. Many hugs to her.

Shiny phone! I have a Shiny Device myself. I love it with a weird passion even though typing on it unhinges me completely. Half a paragraph in and I am wearing my hair vertically what with all the ripping at it.

It does, tragically, slightly delight me that the Great And Beautiful also have interestingly knobbly feet. It makes me feel less alone. Everyone in my family has splendid feet except me and one aunt, and she had hers bashed into shape by surgical hammers and things, and I love not The Shoe to the extent I'd face The Hammer and it's nice to know the Great and Beautiful also eschewed The Hammer in exchange for joint integrity and cobblers.



I resisted the shiny phone for decades, but it is rather helpful, I'm willing to concede. Just make sure you put it AWAY and don't turn into one of those soulless people who stares at it all the time. Doesn't seem like a huge risk with you, but I feel the need to scold you anyway.

I too am comforted by the gross feet of the famous. But are you REALLY an introvert? You have an awful lot of fun for an introvert...Or is it that introverts don't actually have to be lonely and sad all the time? Have I wasted my life?


Me too, on the conflicted feet feeling. Still they carry me from A to D if not to Z. Feet, I appreciate your stalwarty qualities.

Bunny. Oh I am, it's truer than true: an introvert. The fun is the exception, I assure you. You only hear about it because it is more interesting than the other stuff I do, which is processing the fun, gearing up for more, longing for it as I simultaneously dread it. But as my mother used to say when I didn't want to go to Brownies: you'll enjoy it when you get there.

Oops. You mean I shouldn't stare soulessly at my shiny thing, starting like now..?

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