Play Misty For Me

It’s late.  NPR’s late night jazz fills up the khaki colored walls and white laminet cabinets as I sit at the kitchen table tonight and study Spanish. It’s quiet out.  Eerie-quiet, quiet. I can hear an occassional truck rumble across the sink hole in the street out front and the refrigerator hums and burps and as I take a break to blog these thoughts.

I feel a little like Clint Eastwood in the movie, Play Misty For Me, because I can’t help and wonder if anyone is listening to me out here?

I take brain breaks between past, present, and conjugation to peruse the internet looking at kitchen cabinets, counter tops and refurbished barn doors - I’m looking for funky and inexpensive as I rehab my house.

Hello? Is anyone listening?

I realized one of my New Year’s resolutions was to blog more, but lately, I’ve barely blipped let alone blogged. And my sincere apologies go out to all my fellow bloggers, because I know, I rarely visit anymore. No flowers. No love songs. No wine deliveries. No bootie calls.  Damn. I sound like a bad excuse, don’t I? 

Hello? Is anyone listening?

The good news is, school will be out for summer break soon, and consequently, I’ll have more time.  Yah. More time. More time for writing and blogging and just an old fashioned long over-due visit that includes a glass of wine and a little conversation.

Hello? Is anyone listening?

The minutes have ticked by and it’s later and quieter now. I can hear Etta James and some really great tenor saxophonist…I need to go back to conjugating again….

 

Thanks for listening
Neve Black

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