I spoke with a gloomy friend on the phone a few weeks back, when the lilacs were first out.
Nosing lilacs gives me shiver-thrills. It's the scent equivalent of listening to Wilda's purr, a direct drink of comfort and joy.
As we were ending the call, I said, with a touch of the Mary Sunshine Cheer Up Vibe that sets my teeth when I'm grumpy, "Well, I hope you at least get to smell the lilacs sometime today!"
"Uh, yeah..." he said, sounding dubious.
"Don't you like lilacs?" I asked, relentlessly peppy.
"It's just that I'm deathly allergic to them. If I smelled a lilac directly, I wouldn't be able to breathe, at all."
"Oh. So basically I was signing off with a curse--I hope you at least get to suffocate sometime today. Not exactly what I meant...."
"I know what you meant," he said, with just a hint of a smile in his voice.
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Here's a first attempt at a video, of Herself, purring.
