Shpil, Balalaika, Shpil!

For Digger and Roni - freilich zol zayn.
xxx

Gather Your Tribe

If there is one area in life that I feel blessed - blessed - better than blessed (sorry, still in stuttermode), as though by some miracle I've been magically placed in the uppermost echelons of beaming, inexplicably bountiful fortune - it is in the realm of friendship. At every stage of my life - from my first social memory (sandpit with Dewi, digging "down" to Cassie in Papua New Guinea) to the last text ("One of the loveliest texts I've ever received ... Love you so much"), no matter where I am, I always find the good 'uns. The realm of the kindred has been very kind to me.

I am, therefore, a most unlikely expatriate. My home, my heart = my Melbourne (co-opted by a bloody campaign, noch!) is where my friends are at. Alas, life led Londonwards and even though the quantity is paltry, comparatively, the stars have shone again, and deigned to befriend me.

So it is with a heavy heart that I have to fare well April and Oscar (and their beautiful wee PB) who collectively make up a massive chunk of my local mishpokha. Ironically the buggers are relocating to my hometown (or is it ironic? Alanis has made us all fearful now!) ... The silver lining is that we are having a send off at the Big Chill this weekend! So it's after midnight, bags are half-packed and fully-strewn and I need to know how Law and Order, Season 18: Episode 2, ends. (You'd think by now I'd have realised with a court-case. Duh!)

May you all chill, supersizedly

Dr P
x

Mrs Slocombe And The Power Of Pussy

Last week on Facefuck ... sorry... book, my friend E's status report had her between a rock and a rock. A mutual friend S offered her a hard place, saying he had a few to spare. I commented (as one does in these forums) that his response was "a bit Mrs Slocombe's pussy". S replied that some days everything feels like Mrs Slocombe's pussy.

I share this anecdote to illustrate the power of the collective reference point and a testimony to the talent of Mollie Sugden, who just passed away, yet whose characterisation was so potent as to remain a euphemism for innuendo decades after Are You Being Served? ended. Also as a little shout out to S, big brother of my good friend L, who shares a very similar pop-culture sensibility with me. I love how connections are made across people and communities for myriad reasons. One that tends to draw me to people is "the funny". So to S and all of you out there - in memory of the Marvellous Mollie - keep bringing it. And do put something funny in today's comment section if you feel so inclined, oh wondrous lurky stars.

xxx

Doctor D

Dr D, unlike your erstwhile Dr P, was a real doctor. A medical one, with the knowledge of the uppermost consultant and the heart of a saint, the bedside manner of a goddess, the integrity of nobody you will ever meet. She was an angel. She was too good to be true. And some days, it's hard to believe she ever was ...

She was born on this day in 1974. She was killed in a stupid car accident in 2004. She was the worst person to die, worst as far as confirming to an already cynical mind that there is no rhyme nor reason, no method to the madness, no steadying hand helping us along in a pretty, karmic fair-balanced way. There is no Grand Narrative justifying everything. That she died disproved everything faith-related. (My grandfather's Auschwitz days helped along in that regard, but, then again, that didn't happen directly to me. The ego is a powerful thing.)

I have suffered a few episodes of depression, of varying degrees of awfulness. (I am good now, and have been for several years.) But in those bleak times I did think at times, Why her? Why her and not me, when I am concealing myself behind curtained doonas and Xanax fogs, and she would be out there engaging, enjoying, doing, helping, being? It scares me writing this, it's not something I've ever articulated. But it feels safe to recall publicly with regard to her memory.

She was sooooooo amazing - to which all her many, many friends would attest. I wish beyond wishing that I was calling her now to wish her "Happy, happy, happy birthday, my beautiful, darling D!" instead of writing this horrible eulogy. I will never stop loving her and I continue to take inspiration from her life.


xxx

My First Birthday Present

No, not ever (how sad would that be?!) but of the year. Granted, my birthday isn't until next month, but that made it all the more unexpected an arrival and exciting to unwrap.

Thanks to preloved for the gorgeous necklace and earrings. I wear them today in honour of a most beeyootiful friendship.

xxx

Sisterhood Of Shoes?!? I Mean, Really?!?

This can't be real?

You have to check out the Trojan Tickler ad on the comments page. Old ladies need self-love too? Gross!
/sarcasm

Thanks to Sarah Haskins for ALWAYS keeping it real and to all my Lady Friends, old and new, for offering something a little more special than sales pitches when we hang out. And especial big hugs to Y, who was mentioned in the clip ...

Having A Wale[s] Of A Time

Sorry for the prolonged absence, kiddies. I was away in Wales with my mother. We lived like royalty (more on that later) and couldn't pronounce a single word.

Hope you're living it up wherever you are. Looking forward to getting back into a routine.

Lots of love,

Dr P xxx

Sarah Haskins Is My Homegirl

I love Sarah Haskins ... and so should you!



To all the funny ladies out there ... especially the one who last night taught me that quinoa is pronounced "key-noir" and reminded me again that nothing is off-limits as far as the funny is concerned ...