In which I channel Blackbird

Where to begin?


We met for coffee almost two weeks ago. How can I describe it? You're dying to know.


First, what does Blackbird look like? I'm sure you all have an idea.

Yes, I am taller than she is. But we didn't look like this. -->








I wasn't wearing a hat.

This is more like it--a big smile, and especially the hint of primness about the throat. She had this interesting high collar/scarf thing going--somehow both ladylike and fin de siecle fop. (She was probably just cold. It was freezing.)

But her style suited her, as she is somewhat more reserved than I am. I mean, after a while I finally had to come out and ask her name. No, it's not blackbird.

But I had recognized her right away. No, she doesn't look like a sock monkey. I don't know how I knew her, but I did. It must have been telepathy.

You want more details? OK. There is also that hint of the exotic in her style:



Not that exotic!

We sat in the cafe and talked and laughed like old friends. I suspect my hands flew around as I talked; other internet friends have mentioned it.

We like the same blogs. And the same bloggers.

She is a foodie. I am not. I was dumbfounded by her description of her eponymous restaurant here in Chicago.

I'll never eat there.


We hung out for what--an hour or so? Not long enough. Long enough for me to say some of the stuff that's important but that I don't bring up here. We had a lovely time. She is funny and sweet and just as cute as a button. (I had to say it.)

Then I drove her to her next appointment. Which was with the Anthropologie store.

Next time lunch?