A few days ago, I received a somewhat frantic voicemail from Tracey in London saying, "First you blog that you're extremely depressed, and then you don't post for days and days AND you don't answer your cell phone. I'm calling an ambulance to come to Ugly Betty, and if you're not dead or unconscious when they get there, I'm going to be really pissed off."
Okay, that might not have been exactly what she said, but if I had been dead and her voicemail had ended up in my cold case file like that show on A&E, my version would've added dramatic flair to the programming.
Then, WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS VERY POST, I received the following email from Rene:
you ok?
your last blog post was semi-suicidal. and nothing since. all ok? your audience is worried about you.
xo
You love me, you really love me! I'm not dead, nor even depressed anymore. But I am sincerely sorry for leaving Tracey and Rene, et al to stare at a gardenia bud for a whole week. I've been very busy with work. If by work I mean being chased by a telephoto lens through a Sebastopol farmhouse, gallivanting around SFO in Lederhosen, and plotting my online (no paper waste here!) portfolio. I'm a hustler, Baby.
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1 comment:
re. Lederhosen: photos please.
p.s. i'm really glad u aren't dead. :)
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