browngirl

There's this very nice bus driver who struck up an acquaintanceship with me ages ago on one of the bus lines I frequented, and who checked out the school I work at for her daughter on my and a current student's recommendation. (Tigerlily: she knows the Second Rices) I remembered this the other day after she saw me at Sullivan and came over to say hi while I blinked stupidly and chatted while desperately racking my brain to place her. I do that all the time; it's a habit from my childhood, when adults who'd last seen me five years before would talk to me and I'd have no memory of them. What's amusing is being on the other end of it, such as with

telynor's son G.

This account is all mangled. At any rate, she's driving my current bus, as I discovered this morning. So I have to start being awake enough to converse. *rereads* This was a more interesting story in my head, but anyway. *laugh at myself*; I wrote it down because, being my sometimes-chatty self I talk to people who remember me years later, and I find myself flattered that they remember me but kind of nonplussed when I don't remember them. It's a common thing (I have a story idea based around it which I intend to write one day) but it made me ponder this morning, from when I waved goodbye to her.

From me to the world. Because I'm me, and I love miniatures and oversized models, I am unutterably charmed by The World Archipelago. I feel like I should think it's a bad idea, or at best frivolous, but I can't help but find it just really cute.