As for me, I'm content with the view

I've been kinda quiet the last few days. I'll just say it. The birthday was a drag. I was embracing the self-pity. I worked my ass off for five hours on Saturday morning. Hellish. One of those mornings where everything and everyone is a struggle. I followed that with a good workout. Release the poison and all that. I cleaned up and went shopping. Baby needs a new suit. Sorely. It was a long frustrating day of that, but it finally paid off. I found something I loved. Modern cut that hit me right all over. Like it was made for me. Bespoke at off the rack prices. Mmmmm, I wanna put it on now and just peekaboo parts for you. No? You haven't even seen the goods yet. So the suit was a good thing, but it was my birthday and I was home by 10:00 pm in my jimjams watching the two last episodes of QAF (so I can FINALLY get to SFU, Maddie!).

Sunday morning rolled around, as it so often does, and I was watching Nadal and Federer duke it out on the terre batu in Paris. Hours and hours of lawn work followed. Then I finished the reread of Wicked. I can finally start Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, my summer read. Which is so LAST summer, I know. Then the Tonys, which were delightful, I thought, if for nothing else than Alfre Woodard's bosom (it looked better LIVE). Seriously, I felt bad that she was done so wrong by the folks at Desperate Housewives, but at the end of the day, she's got a stunning rack, y'all. Oh, and each is really gross separately, but I'd totally make a drippy deli sandwich with Alan Cumming and Cyndi Lauper as a couple. And the guy from Avenue Q was a hoot, but then I've had a thing for queer muppets for as LONG as I can remember. And am I the last one to know that Cynthia Nixon has an uber-butch gf? Some say Bonaduce-esque, but I'm racking my brain to remember the name of that other red-haired pie-faced child star? Tell me!*

Where was I? Oh yeah, tennis and the Tonys should be so good that they don't even need a third to make a hat trick, but still I sighed. I swear to Bob I was this close to ordering some of those personal checks that have sad clowns on them. I know. I couldn't even snap pictures of the blooms from my garden last night. It was all rain and gloom by the time I thought of it. But THEN, today, I came home to these fellas, far prettier than anything I could grow.Hell, I don't even know what half of them are. Tres exotique. The picture doesn't do them justice. They're from a sweet, sweet man, a sly one, who knew just what I could use and when I could use it. A skill I admire to no end (and indeed, seek out) in others. It's not castles and kings, people, it's the little things.
some Tony picture links via D-Listed

ADDED: Ah, sweet relief! I finally remembered the child star-- *Mason Reese. Dead on.