I have an amazing dear friend named Marguerite. She, our other dear friend Mandy, and I have been known to spend hours over coffee or wine, depending on the hour of the day. We talk about all sorts of things, and, having cleared our souls, can re-emerge out into the world, brighter, lighter beings.
Marguerite's son gave her a mug last Christmas with the inscription: "Queen of F***ing Everything" and it's just so funny because it's just so TRUE. When our neighborhood had an auction to raise funds for the park, oh, so happens she trained in auctions at Christy's. When she and her brother had to evacuate Norleans, and the Saab failed, she slid underneath and stitched the rubber boot together with needle and wire so it would drive them to safety. She's smart, she's industrious, and she's funny, a holy triumvirate.
Today she brought a friend who happens to be a famous photographer from Chicago. They are taking a 10-day trip through the South, taking pics of people in their places. They shot Little One on her bed, listening to the iPod, texting away. They took pics of Little Dog dancing, sitting, sneezing (although not all at once.) They shot me at my desk, and standing with a book, and at the dinner table working on a jigsaw puzzle with DH. Finally, they got closeups of my feet in my bunny slippers. I may use that one for my profile on Facebook.
Marguerite had asked us to save this afternoon for the photo shoot. We had gladly done so for our dear friend, but did not at all look forward to posing.
Amazingly, it was fun, great fun, and she and he were so accommodating. They asked every time they moved a lamp, or un-mounted a picture from the wall. Before they left, they replaced every little thing (even though they did not need to) and left the house just as it was before.
It was great to see our pictures, even if it was only on the camera view-finder. They have promised to send copies digitally. I declare, we all looked just like ourselves, just better.
What a lovely adventure it was.
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