different soundtracks

blues in the night
or rather day, and we're not talking misery, sorrow, gloom, dejection or doldrums. Just lovely blue yarn, blue skies and the eyes of a cat named Blue....

...at my friend's home yesterday afternoon for tea and homemade lemon tart! She generously sent me home with a big piece to share with Ron, however, he isn't fond of lemon so I had to make the sacrifice and eat it myself! ~ a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

generations 
I don't Twitter, nor do my friends.  We basically do not have a burning need to know what each of us is doing moment by moment. Facebook is enough and often too much. Some of my fb friends are much younger, their lives different from mine and we meet up on other levels based on values, family, politics, shared history. I've noticed something recently. Often I will read one of their posts and have no idea of what the post is about! It also occurs when I'm reading a popular magazine or even [take a deep breath now self] the New Yorker. I know it's a generational thing. And I begin to realize that no matter how hip we of a certain age think we are (we. are. hip.) -- we're really not so in the eyes of younger generations with their own codes. We are, in their lexicon, geezers. Just as our parents/grandparents were to us. 

In Deborah Moggach's novel The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel there is a passage that describes this phenomenon well: "It was as if she were performing in a play and realized, quite suddenly, that the cast had been replaced by actors she had never seen before" -- and I would add: an edited script she hadn't read. If you haven't seen the movie or read the book, it's about older people in various states of disarray and circumstances coming together in a residential hotel in Bangalore. Good story. Both movie and book are worth your time.

yabbering
And now, hipster that I am, I'm turning to the espresso pot on the stove, the tiny blue cup, a single ginger snap. Just the sort of thing I'd be posting about if I were twittering...