It is breakfast, the buffet breakfast aat my hotel. As usual I chat people up – handing out my blog card and conversing on different topics. The most interesting people stay at this hotel. A diversity of people from all over the world who are, in the main, earthy, practical, centred, and realistic. A far different cliental from the others hotel, in which I have stayed on a long terns basis, Different from those at the Montague in London, from those at the Pestana Chelsea Bridge in London, different from the Trump International Hotel and Tower in Vancouver, different from the Wedgewood in Vancouver, different from those at the Great Western Corte Madera Inn in Marin.
However, impatience was growing as my four year old treasure had not yet arrived. Uncharacteristically I began to listen to music from my playlists. I became riveted – The Troubles by U2 began to play. It so described the ending of a relationship with an individual of my acquaintance that took place about two or three days ago. It was eerie beyond belief.
Somebody stepped inside your soul
Somebody stepped inside your soul
Little by little they robbed and stole
Till someone else was in control
You think it’s easier
To put your finger on the trouble
When the trouble is you
And you think it’s easier
To know your own tricks
Well, it’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do
I have a will for survival
So you can hurt me
And then hurt me some more
I can live with denial
But you’re not my troubles anymore
Somebody stepped inside your soul
Somebody stepped inside your soul
Little by little they robbed and stole
Till someone else was in control
Somebody stepped inside your soul
Somebody stepped inside your soul
Little by little they robbed and stole
Till someone else was in control
I looked up during this song that had totally overcome me and saw my four year old just arriving with his mother. We looked at each other in sheer delight and hugged each other. In that instant, in that moment, all was well. The four year old (whose newest trick is to say the alphabet backward starting with zed) took the place of the individual whose presence has taken up a great deal of space in my mind. During breakfast his mother and I chatted, reaching accord on several matters involving the rearing of grandchildren and sons. Some friends are expressing concern for me but I reassure them that all is well. I have a four year old – the guys are getting younger all of the time. Hahahaha.
What does the four year old call me? Alexis. I do laugh – many call me Granny Alexis, sometimes Auntie, and then G.Ma is one of my favourites. But this four year old calls me Alexis, which he can print and does readily. He also knows my “other name” and can print that as well. The kid is a genius. I can take no credit for it. Four older women sat at an adjoining table, beaning at our interaction. “Mummy” and I agreed that these women thought I was the Grandmother but, of course, I am not. I am The Alexis and that is more precious, and actually the more actual title.
Oh, by the way, he informed me that he can now count up to one thousand.
Me: That is impressive! One thousand!
He: Thank you.
He and Mummy came to my room so I could show him the precious (now framed) picture of another little girl who captured my heart with her table napkin portrayal of my cat Ishy. It is on the blog somewhere.
But to veer to other matters. Many, including me, are wondering why, suddenly I do not need knee replacement surgery. Well, there is this saying: “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” I am not. I am making alternative plans. While in London I had another fantastic Internist, Dr. Sandberg (as my medical insurance paid for private medical care in London). I was beginning to have knee problems but he wisely said:
He: Do not go to a surgeon. All they know how to do is cut.
My trusted USA Internist referred me to this surgeon who was definitely planning on cutting to the extent of having the bionic knee made. But I guess, God intervened. The cortisone shot has taken effect and I am no longer in pain. I will work on other solutions, fear not. But at this moment I am not looking this gift horse in the mouth. But what does that phrase mean?
The saying “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” means that you shouldn’t criticize a gift, even if you don’t like it very much. A gift horse, in other words, is a gift. … The idiom itself probably stems from the practice of determining a horse’s age from looking at its teeth.
Who said it, who originated this profundity?
“No man ought to looke a geuen hors in the mouth.” It is probable that Heywood obtained the phrase from a Latin text of St. Jerome, The Letter to the Ephesians, circa AD 400, which contains the text ‘Noli equi dentes inspicere donati’ (Never inspect the teeth of a given horse).
Do let us make profundity the word of the day. It can be wisdom, deep insight, intelligence, sagacity, acuity, depth, profoundness, perceptiveness, penetration, perception, percipience, perspicuity, discernment, thoughtfulness.
What would you guys do without me? I mean the definitions, reminding of you all of profundities?? No wonder I am so popular. Hahahahaha
The picture accompanying this was posted on Instagram with the following caption.
My breakfast companion. His shirt says Final Lap. Those are my glasses.
You cannot see his face as his privacy is being protected. I cleared the photo with Mummy before I put it on Instagram. I am Moral and not a User. So there! So there! So there!
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