A bit of this and that...

I started a new British show: Vera. Set in Northumberlund, in North East England, Vera Stanhope, played by Brenda Blethyn, is the DCI of the local police.  A mix between Inspector Morse and Single-handed, this British detective show is curious in its story-telling, language, and cinematography.

I like that they all call each other love.  Man and woman alike.  Lads and lasses.  Bosses called Ma'am and Governor.  Even with the drinking and shouting, there is a civility I find missing in American culture these days.

Today, Vera helped me do the ironing, catch up on my filing, wash the bedding and get the guest suite back in order, set up an eBlast for my realtor, and work through a mini-clear out of the utility closet.  The bonus of the filing is that I came across the cardiology records I have to take with me to my appointment next month, and I actually read the letter from the Botanical Gardens about the membership my mother bought me.  I have one free adult pass!  So, that means I can take my friend there when she visits in two weeks.

I cannot remember when I saw Wynne last, our lives having taken different paths.  Aside from my family, she is the person in my life who has known me the longest ... some 32 years.  I am thankful that she is visiting.

There is a part of me that wants to ply her with questions about what I was like all those years, beg her to fill in the details of my life, even the larger stories, so that I can know something of it, something of all that I have lost.  However, the other part of me wants very much to have not a single conversation about me, since surely tears would fall.  Instead, I want four days of normal.  Four days of chatting and going out and cooking together.  Wynne is the maker of the wondrous Strawberry Bread.  I think I should introduce her to the Apple Praline Bread!  I would like to find a few new recipes to try while she is here, perhaps even some that are more complicated than I would tackle on my own.

The sad thing is that while I know we spent at least 22 years being close friends, what I remember of Wynne is little:  1) she is about six inches taller in my mind than in real life, so I am also surprised when I see her; 2) she shares my love of chocolate; 3) her favorite color is RED; and 4) she is way smarter than I am.  Close my eyes, and I cannot even picture her.  Concentrate, and not a single moment of those 22 years comes to mind.  The blankness blots out our entire friendship.

It is my hope her time here is marked by better days rather than ones filled with innards misery and wild swings of heart rate and blood pressure.  I pretend that I am ever so much better than I am when others are around. I wish not to be the burden and the bore ... for I want them to return.  I wonder, though, if some part of me will recognize that Wynne knew me then and, thus, no pretending is necessary.

It is a marvel, to me, that with God nothing is hidden, and yet He still sent (and sends) His Son to me, for me.


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!