Sunday, June 20, 2010

Darling love, a fado is on now, making me feel all amorous for you as I sit here perhaps not so prettily in wilting heat in a pink cotton bra that could possibly pass as a swimsuit top if I needed to step outside. It's been steamy, and I just need to get it out of my system but I have recently experienced two wonderful moments unexpectedly (always - unexpectedly) hearing David Gray's Stella the Artist. One was last Saturday afternoon, after the little town library book sale. Driving to Chatham for camembert I lost the KZE signal, as I knew I would. There was nothing on the Woodstock station, and whatever was on AMC (local NPR) I wasn't in the mood. I shut off the radio. Driving, country lanes, deep thoughts, verdant green, shade, asphalt road, hands gripping steering wheel, thoughts of you, of Roget's Thesaurus, of E.D., etc., etc. Enough of that. Turned radio back on - the Woodstock station which has a very strong signal (stronger than KZE's). And I heard it. The first, almost tentative drum/synthesizer beats, unmistakable: Stella. I was ecstatic. Especially so because I came in right at the very first note. I hate to miss so much as a beat of it - it ruins it. I need the whole thing. I hear the startup and I think - could it be, yeah, wait, check, maybe not - because once in a while I've been wrong - but yeah, there it was. And I just cranked the song and bellowed as many of the lyrics as I could recall.

No need to be modest. Which brings me to yesterday afternoon. I had the house to myself and it was just too hot to put an apron over my clothes to clean up the kitchen. So I did as the neighbor's toddler girl does - I took it all off. Did all sorts of kitchen cleanup, loaded the washer, straightened this and that - all in the nude. So liberating. I went for the chores with an unusual enthusiasm, feeling comfortable and unencumbered and knowing that my reward would simply be a lovely cleansing shower followed by the donning of my nice new skirt outfit.

Stella doesn't come on every 10 minutes. They don't play it every day. Sometimes days go by and I don't hear it.

But yesterday, in the heat and me in the nude it came on - the unmistakable preamble - and I was delighted. I kept away from the windows and moved my body and played silly air guitar and bellowed lyrics and laughed and when it was all done I went upstairs and took a nice long cool shower.

Oh Jerrice, thank you, now another fado.

Dearest love, many many kisses. Love you.

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