Tilefortlauderdale

One woman, lots of paint and hundreds of tiles. If you're here because you found a painted tile, it's yours to keep.

Friday, June 06, 2008

Lily pours her heart out ....


Some bloggers inform, some entertain and others pour their hearts and souls into posts. Lily knew she had officially joined the latter category when she wrote something so ridiculously heartfelt that she wanted to disown it the next day ... to delete the whole damn post, or at least the part of it that makes her seem as vulnerable as she really is deep inside. Very deep inside. Oddly, this is what we subconsciously do in life ... bury the truest, most beautiful feelings -- the ones people could use to hurt us. Having those feelings documented forces us to consider this process, to acknowledge that by deleting those words, we are in fact, trying to disown a part of ourselves. After considering that for awhile, Lily chose to let those words remain ...

Left Lily on a bench on the south side of the New River, just east of that big condo that's east of the Third Avenue bridge. It's off the path just a little bit, one of those little scenic side routes.

The return of Bridget
My very long walk eventually landed me at Dough Boys on 17th Street for a slice ... so while I was there, I checked the cabinet in the ladies room ('cause I left a tile there on May 18) and there she was -- Bridget. She looked absolutely noodled, so I snatched her up and walked her over to a very nice little haven of sorts where a lot of retirees seem to live, somewhere off Cordova. They're really cute little places with a big lit fountain in the middle, and one night when I walked through there, a whole bunch of the residents were gathered around picnic tables out there by the little lake, drinking wine, eating and laughing heartily, like so hard that you had to laugh with them even when you didn't know what they were laughing about. This is where Bridget belongs. I think she'll do fine there. So now, not only do I hide tiles, but I go and find them too. ... I'll have to process that.

5 Comments:

At 11:48 PM, Blogger Restaurant Gal said...

I have deleted a heartfelt post or two. Post at 1 a.m., delete at 4 a.m. Then I left one up, so very recently.

 
At 7:03 AM, Blogger Mary Tiler More said...

Then maybe you inspired this! Did you write about it? I read recently about someone deleting a late-night post, and then I thought about all that might go along with that ... BTW, I loved the cockroach story and the wine-on-the-back-porch-with-the-neighbor story too. You have a way of making readers feel like they're right there.

 
At 1:09 AM, Blogger Restaurant Gal said...

Thank you! I am writing a post this very moment that includes a part about not finding Lily.

 
At 6:43 AM, Blogger Mary Tiler More said...

I started to read that post. It was there, but only for a fleeting moment, and then it was gone. ... Maybe Lily found herself smack in the middle of one of those wee-hours posts that disappears into that fascinating little black hole where ALL deleted posts go ... The truth is that Lily could still be sitting out there on a bench at Smoker Park, so at least I know that even from her park bench, she found a moment of fleeting fame in one of Restaurant Gal's stories.

 
At 8:02 AM, Blogger Restaurant Gal said...

The reality is, when you post at 4 a.m., it's going to be a post fraught with errors and editing needs. Thus, I took it down to tune it up to my self-imposed writing standards and re-posted it again later. As for Lily, not knowing the area, I didn't know Smoker Park. I just wandered that side of the Riverwalk and checked out every bench from across the Riverside Hotel to Andrews Ave. Bridge. I suspect Lily has already found another home. And I am proud she has a place on my blog, if not in my home!

 

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