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March 31, 2000
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different shoes Ever have one of those days where nothing can really get your down? That would be today. I dressed this morning with the evening's events in mind. Since we were going to dinner with some friends, I thought I'd pass on Levi's and an Hawaiian shirt and hiking boots. (I always wear an Hawaiian shirt on Fridays if I remember to do it.) I put on black slacks, a short-sleeved silk shirt with a pattern that, while it wasn't Hawaiian and, in fact, had a black background, was in my mind cheerful and in Friday spirit. I put on a favorite pair of black socks with a subtle little pattern. And a pair of black Cole Haans with a lattice weave. I worked on stuff that is essentially secretarial in the morning. But it is stuff that is too important to leave to chance. SuRu was taking a day of vacation. She called and said I should meet her at Ella's. Forrest had called about the digital camera because he wanted to shoot some pictures for his Austin guide. I never take it to work, but this one day I had. So I called him back and offered to bring the camera by or, better, have him meet us at Ella's. On the way out to the car, I notice that my right shoe feels slightly different than the left one. I check and, sure enough, the left one is the rubber-soled Cole Haan but the right is a very similar Cole Haan that used to have a leather sole but has been resoled with a rubber half sole. So really I have on two different shoes. When I get to Ella's, Forrest is driving up and SuRu is sitting on the patio, reading. The owner of the Menagerie, a jewelry and china and crystal shop in the same center, is having a meeting with her WEB page gurus at one of the patio tables. She seems to be using the patio as a conference room. Forrest goes to Anderson Coffee to get the Guatamalan Antiqua coffee beans which seem to be oil-free enough for the Capresso but very tasty. We don't want the Capresso to give up again as we are hopelessly addicted. I point out to FFP and SuRu that my shoes are different. I think it is funny. It is the highlight of my day until the wine. A guy in boots and jeans sits down on the patio and spreads out a bunch of business papers on the table and puts his cell phone beside them. He tells the waitress his companion will be there in thirty minutes. He orders a bottle of wine. The guy's cell phone rings. Once, twice, then three more times and stops. He doesn't touch it. He looks over at us. We three are staring at him. "I never hear this thing ring," he says. He fumbles around with the phone, figuring out who called and dials. "Tell them I'll get cowboys some place else," he says. "I'm not going to sit here and get ripped off." True story. No wine for lunch, of course. I have to go back to work. SuRu has a Bloody Mary, though, because she is having a holiday. I taste it. They make a great one here. We have a soup and salads with trout and a ginger carrot dressing. I fall victim to those delicious rolls that come from Rather Sweet. When we filled out the Chronicle poll, we said we eat out 15 times a month. Well, if you don't count lunches. FFP eats more lunches at home than I do. After lunch, we go to the Menagerie. The owner tries to sell me a white gold necklace with a bunch of diamonds. It is somewhere in the five figures. No thanks. We buy a present for Forrest's aunt who will have an 80th birthday party on Sunday. And look around at the expensive things. Like silver-handled teak chopsticks. I get home in time to decide which pair of shoes I should really be wearing and off we go to meet our friends. We have never been to their house. They know we haven't been to this house, which they've been living in since October. But we've never been to any house. The house is behind a gate. Whoever answers the call is confused when Forrest says "Conan's" as if he is delivering a pizza. It is the babysitter, I think We enter the house with our host. It's like the great hall of a minor castle somewhere. The marble columns maybe added in the 18th century but an ancient stone wall exposed over here. On the right is the dining room and the left the living room. There is a dining table but not much else in the way of furniture yet. The family dog races out and we give him a pat. A few minutes later he is ejected by our hostess as punishment for taking a leak in the library. Kids and babysitters race through. Our host struggles to open a door to the balcony. The house has been four years in the building but there are still mysteries. He's pushing out, it opens in. Ah, the view. Town Lake, downtown. If you come to my house, I'll serve you inexpensive wine in a real wine glass. At this house, you get expensive wine in a plastic glass. I can't decide if this is because that's what they do or if we are supposed to finish up the last bit in the car on the way to the restaurant. A stunning and famous Chardonnay from California and then a fabulous Montrachet accompany our ramble through the house. This room was going to be for ballet but may be a pool room. It is empty and has beautiful wood floors and mirrors. This room will be a guest room, but, at the moment has an electric piano and a gadget to play stuff on it and nothing else. A small wine cellar, a few hundred bottles, is raided for a bottle for dinner. Our host has an enclave about a story and a half underground elsewhere in town with thousands of bottles. So this is just to hold what one might consume soon. We see other wonders. A two story closet, a double shower that is also a steam bath. A wonderful kitchen with custom everything, beautiful and functional. "You would think we cooked, wouldn't you?" our hostess says. The library is full of books. Many math books. Our hostess' father was a mathematician. (I am appalled when I go to people's homes with wonderful libraries and they don't have books to fill them. Here at PB Mansion, we have double and triple stacking. Every possible surface for books, is booked. Only a few book shelves are grudingly given to decorative items.) The media room sports all the gadgets. Forrest now wants a 100 CD changer. For dinner (at Zoot), we have a Pinot Noir from our host's cellar and a Pine Ridge Andrus Reserve (a Bordeaux-style blend from California) from ours. We can't decide what to drink with what so we have both poured. My sweetbread appetizer and duck entree mesh with both. Life is good. Bobby Inman dines at the next table with two younger men, his apparently injured foot propped on the extra chair, crutches behind him. We say 'goodbye' to our friends after discussing all the world's woes and the upcoming wine and food fest. FFP and I go to Four Seasons for a nightcap. The Andrew Lloyd Weber fans are out in force. We decide simultaneously to have Miner's Coffee (half shot of Kahlua and half shot of Amaretto in coffee). A good Friday. We return to our modest abode. I like it, though. We don't really need an elevator and our garden is more lovely than I have time to appreciate. No view of the sun rising over Town Lake, but I really do love this house. I have no desire for a home like that. But I do love seeing them! |
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"What though
youth gave love and roses, Thomas Moore, National Airs, Spring and Autumn |
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reflection
Dreaming up a WEB presence for Menagerie
Taco Cat at Zoot |
