Bless this house

When I went into the kitchen to make coffee this morning, thinking of the things I had to do to batten down the house to get ready to head back to unreality, the early light was giving a particular glow to the angle at the fridge.

On the fridge itself are some Hiroshige print postcards from my dear Lou. The little extraneous moons are magnets.

But hanging on the wall are the hamsa she also sent, over one of Ferron's little 3-D versions of our house, over one of his more punniferous whimsies. (If you look closely, you can see a martini glass on the roof: Drinks are on the house.)

Odd and wonderful, I thought, that the blues in all of those pieces -- the Hiroshiges, the hamsa, the houses -- all match.

Sometimes karma just plain works.