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Sunday June 4, 2000
"Dis-moi ce que tu manges, je te dirai ce que tu es." "Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are." Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, Physiologie du goût
e accent acute
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nostalgia Where does the day go? It's Sunday and then you look up and it's 4pm. And then it's over. I woke up at 6 or so and wondered if my dad was up. Up and gone, he was, while I snoozed. The moon shone brightly out front and the house looked different in the dawn. But I went back to sleep. At 7:45, I call SuRu to see if she wanted to do a dog walk. She has some excuses...upper respiratory distress, the heat. In other words...no. So Forrest and I take Chalow on a brief neighborhood walk. On Great Oaks Parkway (aptly named) a confusing vignette transpires. A kid sits with a little guitar in a small car seat, strumming. A woman gets inside a pickup, leaving a commuter cup on top of the pickup. She cranks the recalcitrant engine a few times. The kid runs up to tell her about the commuter cup. I start thinking about things left on top of cars. Possibly because I've just seen a gas cap on the curb, too. I remember a pair of shoes I think I lost that way. Forrest decides to go to Westwood and sit at the pool. I decide to have a farewell workout at the Met Club. It's funny. When you are leaving something behind (or it's leaving you), it seems pretty good. I enjoy my light workout: twenty minutes on the Stairmaster, light weights on some Cybex machines, a few crunches, a few minutes on the Ergonomic rower, a shower, etc. It was nice. See a couple of people I know, including Deb. I clean out my locker, too. I find new cross trainers, old T-Shirts, etc., etc. It's kind of sad. I also find an anniversary announcement we sent out in 1987 or so. Actually several copies of it. Maybe it was a way to celebrate our tenth anniversary? No, the text would indicate later. Anyway, for some reason we commemorated with this card which I had forgotten about in a way. I mean I remembered when I saw it, but hadn't thought about it in a while. I get a Starbucks because it is pouring rain when I come out to get in my car. It lets up and I come home and have some chicken and cheese and some fruit. Today I've eaten two pieces of bread, a few ounces of cheese and chicken, an apple ("What kind is this?" I asked, not recognizing the apple variety. "I forget," himself says.) And a little mandarin orange. Then, of course, we have our 'event.' We have been trying to get out of this event because it is both black tie and outside which seems like a bad idea in the heat. The rain, I hoped, would ice it and send it inside. But then the sun shines again. The rain might have made it a little cooler, maybe just a little more humid. It's good to go to an event with low expectations. Forrest and I have been upbraiding ourselves for signing up for this one. I claim I'm to blame, he claims he is. Either way, we shouldn't have done it. In the end, we go. Hmm, what after five outfit do I have that will look best when sweated on? Oddly enough, I think, a tuxedo might be best. Cotton shirt against the skin, strip off the jacket. Maybe I'll wear my tux. My other outfits are mostly long-sleeved and synthetic. Fashion is not my thing. But the rain has chased the event inside. The wines are pretty good. The company interesting. And the food by Jeffrey's. Not so bad. In the end, we do stand on the roof. It's around 10PM and there is a little breeze. You can see the Capitol Dome peeking over a parking garage. And you can see One American Center with its three tiers where space is so expensive that the Met Club has lost its lease.
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