Butterfly of Some Sort

Even though I have not been blogging, and feeling guilty--you can take the girl out of Catholic school but you cannot take the Catholic school out of the girl. It was reading someone else's blog and finding this, which I now display on my sidebar that might not make me think it is a sin not to blog as much as I maybe would like.

Not blogging, made me oblivious to this saga. It is nice to be in a cocoon sometimes, but still interesting to see what is going on in the world.

I have been working on my psychologically terse, but finally becoming erotic piece. My characters are there. This is the part where it gets fun. The best part of reading the novels I like to read are to read the "dirty" bits. In the case of writing the novel, it is best to write the dirty bits. As well as to create the psychology that makes the dirty bits necessary.

Off I go to my cocoon again, to emerge as a butterfly of some sort...of creativity...of negativity...of something with something more to say...soon...

Post Rainy Sunday Brunch

Look at me--first I was not posting, now I have two posts in one day!

I had brunch at the Mercer Kitchen, a lovely lamb sandwich and a molten Valrhona chocolate cake that was so delicious that I almost was ashamed to eat it in public. I covered my face with my hand, and could not stop moving my feet out of my flip flops with each forkful.

But I digress--

I was sitting in the dry Mercer Kitchen (wet like crazy outside in New York City even though it was not supposed to be that bad with the threat of thunder storms) next to a man who travels between Miami and New York, and is such a regular there that he kept beckoning the hostess over to talk. Now the interesting part is I saw out of the corner of my eye that he had raised his glass of Fiji water to a woman who was sitting in the adjoining hotel lobby. My mind went crazy, as much of a Francophile as I am I ignored the French woman on my other side who was saying that she had been in New York so long that when she went to France they told her she could not speak French anymore--even as I am planning on going to Paris and am working on my French...I wondered if the man on my other side had had a long standing flirtation with the woman in the lobby? When he raised his glass, she looked at him bewildered. I was not sure if she was nervous or what. I kept an eye on their progress--he seemed to have stopped worrying about her and was talking to the hostess who he asked could he bring dessert and coffee into the lobby? The hostess said that he could only bring coffee. So with a grimace he took coffee solo into the lobby and sat across from the woman there with his cell phone. I actually scooted over in my seat to see what happened. But it was not until I was leaving that I saw the woman sitting lotus posed on the couch laughing with him.

That was a classic scene for an hopeless romantic, wasn't it? Kicked my inner Anais Nin into effect too because Anais was a brilliant diarist and people watcher. I think I have done a pretty good job in this post--oui?