Detail.  John Singer Sargent.  Figural Study.  Still not Gertrude Bell, who was once described by a fellow diplomat in the Middle East as a "silly chattering windbag of conceited, gushing flat-chested, man-woman, globe-trotting, rump-wagging blethering ass." 

But in 1904, at the age of 36, Gertrude changed her life, dropped her hobby of mountain-climbing and got into serious study.  She traveled to the Arabian Peninsula to explore the archaeological ruins and learn about the people.  It is said (possibly not with firm evidence) she "successfully disguised herself as an Arab beggar, led troops into battle, and endured torture."  

At the very least though, she demonstrated she had other talents.  Lounging in an awkward pose on a divan might simply not have been one of them.

YESTERDAY, my darlings, began in rather a bleak fashion.  Not just because it looked like rain, but because everything early on started going terribly wrong.  A security glitch in the system kept me from posting, a broken table leg cried out to be fixed, the gray sky brought with it a certain Melancholy that calling to talk to others would not diminish -- everyone else was having a worse day, which ought to have cheered me up, except it didn't.  Sometimes you just want to wallow in your own pain, you know?

Eventually, however, E called and firmly insisted on going to the gym which, slowly and without hope of a single endorphin ever firing again (or whatever endorphins do that mine don't) I managed to accomplish, afterward feeling up to taking the next indicated action, and from there, as they say, the day sorted itself out.  When I returned from my sundry errands for the last time and pulled into the garage as dusk was beginning to fall, I happened to glance down at the odometer which read, "55,555."

As you might have gathered by now, I take numerical signs very seriously.  You can call it silly or agree with me that this is one way the Divine gets your attention, but in either case, I paused to reflect that, after all, I had made it through (no, not "made it through the rain;" it didn't), and I expressed a silent moment of gratitude for that, and even more so for the kind messages from many of you dear people out there.  Thank you!  I shall not give up yet; I shall not throw in the towel!  Blog on!  

Now, like Gertrude, I have my shortcomings and I have my talents.  I still don't comprehend everything coming in under the door and through (over?) the transom, so to speak (remember transoms?).  But I can change my perspective.  If sometimes after the fact.  Why, when I got home I realized the helpful and attractive clerk at the hardware store might have been actually flirting with me.  "I've been advised to get the glue with the gorilla on the label," I had explained to him.

"I give you gorilla," he said with a charming accent and grin, holding out the bottle and brushing my leg.
"It says 'Stronger and Faster,'" I read from the label.
"You like strong and fast?" he asked with what seemed an especially ardent and genuine interest.
"Strong, certainly," I told him.  "I don't really care about the fast," I added, thinking I could always read a book while the repair set up and bonded.
"Ah, you like strong and slow," he murmured.
"Yes yes," I answered absent-mindedly, trying to decide which size bottle.
"You got big job or small?" he asked rather too playfully I thought, given the matter in hand, but then I reasoned that surely there are people for whom brands of glue can spark an emotional response I have yet to experience.  To each his own, as they say.

"Nothing I can't handle," I answered, not wanting to seem out of my depth.  This reply seemed to provoke him to even further merriment, and his dark eyes sparkled beneath exceptionally long lashes, which caught my attention.  I thanked him and wished him a nice day, to which he replied that I could help him have this nice day, and I smiled politely without grasping the full extent of his potential meaning.  Still, he had certainly helped me improve my day; I found a lightness in my heart and step as I continued on with it.  I went on my way rejoicing, if you want to know the truth, without really understanding why, except I felt that my attitude had adjusted itself somehow, that I once again believed that things do work out, I don't have to do everything alone and by myself, that 'Life is Real, Life is Earnest," as my mother used to say, and there is kindness and goodness to be found in the world.

Thank you again, dear ones, for your support and encouragement.  And if you need anything at the hardware store, let me know.  I have a feeling I shall be going there again quite soon.