If you live in San Diego, get your ass to the Museum of Photographic Arts in Balboa Park and witness the glory of a handful of images on display, taken by MY man, David Fokos.
Here's a Link! Check out his fabulous black and white photographs. It's up for about three months, but if I were you, I wouldn't wait a day.
We can't wait to get home and see how it looks! Still in Boston, we have reservations for a fancy French restaurant in town tonight with a handful of friends. I'm procrastinating on a column (I'm so much better at procrastination than I am at writing), but I'll get around to it.
My father survived the typhoons in Korea, my new nephew is home from the hospital with his beautiful mommy, and the rest of the family is alive and well. The other night, as we were laying in bed, I told M.s. (David), "I love my life." He said, "That's an amazing thing to be able to say." I thought, no, not really, everyone should love life, there's so many wonderful things about it! And then I thought, but so many people harbor animosity towards the world and their situations. Maybe it IS rare, if not miraculous that I am able to accept everything about my life, good and bad, as the gift that it is on those few occasions I stop and let gratitude flow through me.
If it is rare, how sad for the majority, who do not realize all that they have. My father said that some of the happiest families he has ever seen, are those of the Make-a-Wish kids. Most of them poor, all with a young, dying sibling or child, and yet they have a spark of life, intimacy, and love, that is nearly impossible to find among wealthier, privileged families. I try not to forget what's really important in life. When I do, I'm at my most miserable.
I want to develop this thought that just popped into my mind and flowed out of my fingers, but right now, I recognize that I have work to do, and I'm going to try and focus for a bit. Speaking of "Fokos," don't forget to visit MOPA. He's one of the reasons my life is so unbelievably wonderful. He's the love of my life.