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Friday February 2, 2001
"Such is the crusade we wage: we seek the truth, the whole truth, and any unsuitable friends with goatees riding in the back of truth's car." Anthony
Lane in The New Yorker on the occasion of the magazine's 75th
birthday
. monster drive takes the front yard
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it's not Saturday! "It's 7:30, and there's the little dog...." himself said, seeing me and said dog still in bed. "I know. I think Chalow might like a walk," I said. "Chalow wants a walk on a weekday?" he asked, incredulous. I never do that, forget what day it is. I guess I was relieved to send the paper off, which was due on Friday. So, um, I somehow woke up thinking it was Saturday. Oops. I'd been dreaming about a some weird social events centered around brightly colored records. And it was one of those dreams where all the escalators go the wrong way. I have those a fair amount of the time. Sometimes it is stairways that turn into perilous catwalks or highways that turn into flyovers with no rails or something. My mother-in-law has never flown, is afraid of escalators and has never driven a car (not been licensed anyway). Does she have these going somewhere dreams? At work, I'm eager to contribute something and very, very busy. Doing what, I'm not sure. My diet isn't so good. I have a Krispy Kreme donut (someone brought them to a meeting) for breakfast. And chicken salad on a croissant and potato chips for lunch. We don't have an event! Yea! Friday and nothing to go to that is scheduled. FFP wants to go to Fonda San Miguel. We can't find a parking place. So we go to 34th Street Café. Eddie is there running his place and it's not very busy. Yet. By the time we leave it's hopping. Before we get too far in the meal a West Austin mom with cell phone and two kids doing an art project plop down next to us. The kids dump a glass of water on the floor while working expansively on a poster. Four gay guys sit on the other side and talk, alternatively, about asynchronous transfer of data and straight men playing gay characters in movies on Jay Leno. All the wines at 34th St. are $22/bottle and $5.95 a glass. Well, actually, there is a split for $22 and one bottle at $28 and $7. We have the Bogle Old Vine Cuvee Zinfandel. For $22, of course. It's delicious. I take the last bit home for a nightcap. On Eddie's recommendation, we share the Wild Mushroom Paté and a salad of Red and Green Belgium Tips and Baby Romaine with Blue Cheese. Both very generous and lovely. FFP has Crusted Chicken Picatta and I have Oven Roasted Pork Loin with Waldorf stuffing with Roasted Potatoes and Plum Demi Glace. It's pleasant and delicious and I'm glad we beat the crowd. We stop at Whereshouse music and video and buy some DVDs of Philadelphia Story, some Frank Sinatra flicks, a collection of Hitchcock stuff and Annie Hall. At home I watch Philadelphia Story and part of Man with the Golden Arm. |
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