Re your IMT-locating and constructing: this is love. And I'd been wondering, "What is this thing called 'love'?" (Or, as bad Benny Hill asked: "What's this thing called, luv?")
And further to wit: Once at a Big Important Meeting, after all the power'd been decided, a good friend and I began ravaging the plates of goodies, especially the Danish pastries filled with raspberry jam and cheese. I said to him: "Why don't you tuck some in a napkin and take them home to Betsy? She'd love them!" He frowned: "She doesn't need em." I wrapped up two Danishes for Betsy, handed em to him and said: "You don't give a woman what you think she needs, you give her what she wants." Incidentally, I'm not trashing my friend, not in the least. He's as gloriously in love with his wife as when he married her several years ago. I wonder at it all.
Awed by love,
Judy generally in orbit
----- Original Message -----
From: "Fred Pollack" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Friday, July 01, 2005 6:33 PM
Subject: Re: found poem drawn from recent list entries
> -------------- Original message --------------
>> ----- Original Message -----
>> From: "Fred Pollack"
>> Sent: Friday, July 01, 2005 10:00 PM
>> Subject: found poem drawn from recent list entries
>> >I damn well intend to use this:
>> Feel free, Fred! And maybe you'd like to take the damn' feet as well, if I
>> can only get a pair that seem to be the same shape as those of every other
>> woman under 80. Honestly, ever since I was in my twenties I have had feet
>> that were only comfortable in shoes like the Queen Mother's! Thank heaven
>> for Dr Scholl, say I.
> It was not until I got married that I understood: shoes are more important than anything. Previous women (in Northern California) wore rags above, flip-flops or birkenstocks below. I do not want to boast about my wife's armory. Or her commitment. Suffice it to say that she also has a collection of little ceramic shoes - they line a windowledge. Many of them look very strange to me but she says she would cheerfully kill for real versions of any . When we moved into our present house and unpacked her shoes I - on my own initiative - opened the Ikea catalogue and found a Modular Shoe Storage Unit. Bought three of them, and, when they were delivered, assembled them vertically. Note: am not generally handy, but this was love. Cleared the ceiling by three inches. Wife was overwhelmed. Every rack full. We call it the Imelda Memorial Tower.