Patron Saint of Floordrobe

 

I have no idea where I found this picture or who photographer is, but I love how it's Helena BC in residence at her parents' home: phone randomly placed, pile of books, wallpaper matches curtains, use of four poster bed as a wardrobe etc. I've pasted it in the teams team I formed, for pending clothes swap I have organised. By 'organised' I asked around to see if anyone else wanted a clothes swap, floated a date, recruited people.  Is that 'organisation'? 

Have been reading The Dakota Winters by Tom Barbash, narrated by the son of a late night TV host, recently returned from Peace Corps to life on the Upper West Side, his younger brother on the tennis circuit, the preppie bohemian next generation culture: everyone on staff at Winter Park is a 'child of'. My friend dated a girl who was vying for selection in an event that I'm going to call lying down horizontal in a small space, but it has a fancy name. I feel bad I didn't start fostering a potential Olympics/tennis career for my child back when they were toilet training, noting it required not only hours of toiling but disposable income and an ambition that is at odds with my preference to reduce energy consumption (literally and metaphorically).  Maybe I should resume social tennis? 

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