That was so nice of my commenter yesterday to give me the words to Edith Piaf's song about having no regrets. Thanks, dear anonymous friend. Or, rather, merci beaucoup!
I will have to memorize those lyrics so I can sing that song when I think of Leonard Pennario and my feelings now that he is gone. I have no regrets, it's true.
I'll tell you what I do regret, though: my refrigerator.
Recoiling from it just now, I realized something: As goeth thy life, so goeth thy vegetable crisper. One of my friends once made a joke that when things get out of control down in those nether regions, an alarm should go off, with a robotic voice warning: "Danger. Danger. Produce has liquified." That alarm would sure be going off now in my kitchen, I will say that.
Months on end of flying in and out of town have taken their toll on my Frigidaire. There is this bowl of cabbage I roasted before I left the last time. Roasted cabbage is wonderful but not after you fly to California and back. There is stuff in Tupperware that I cannot come close to recognizing. This morning I took out a carton of cottage cheese that had not even been opened and through the plastic I could see that something was wrong with that, too.
Here I was hoping foolishly that when I die I would be able to go to heaven and see Leonard again and hug him and ask him a few things I forgot to ask him. Ha ha ha HA, as they used to say in Laurel and Hardy. It will be ages before I see Leonard again. I will be in Purgatory for hundreds of years paying for all the food I am wasting.
On the bright side, this blog cheers me up. Yesterday I got to glance at a listing of where our correspondents are tuning in from. Would you believe we have a reader in Africa, in the Ivory Coast? Welcome, reader from the Ivory Coast!
The Ivory Coast has a beautiful name in French: If I remember correctly it is Cote d'Ivoire.
I wonder if that reader was the one who sent me the Piaf lyrics.