Friday

March 30, 2001

collector card for sale on e-bay

All day I wonder about the weather. It's gray. It rains. It stops. At lunch, SuRu and I go out. We aren't sure where to go. She wants to be waited on. Suddenly she thinks of Ella's. It's great, too. I have a Sharon's Famous salad with fried oysters on it. SuRu has the Hot and Crunchy Trout. We linger over the 'ladies who lunch' feeling.

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Too often, any more, my day is full of concerns of marketing instead of whizzy ideas of code and design.

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It stops raining. The Margarita Mixed Doubles is a go at my club. FFP signed me up, but they've lost track of it. No matter, they've mixed in the pros anyway and so they can easily accommodate. We have rearranged our social life so that I can participate. I am terrible, of course. And I don't consume Margaritas or other alcohol while playing (though others do). But I don't embarrass myself too much. I always feel like an interloper among people who obviously have always belonged to a club where there is tennis and pros. I feel out of place. But it's just me. The people are very nice. Tolerant of my sloppy sweats and playground style. I need to play tennis more.

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My knees ache and my hips scream a little. But I clean up and we go off to a party in Hyde Park. The hosts love wine. They are serving a large assortment of libations and using what looks to me to be expensive glassware. I opt for the plastic cups that came with the barbeque on offer. We offer the South African Bordeaux blend that we have plucked from our collection and try some of it.

There is a collection of musicians playing well-amplified rock and country. It's billed as a neighborhood party, but I wonder if the noise won't bring the police. It doesn't.

A man swirling his wine in an expensive glass, held by the stem says, "There are any number of places now with over thirty dollar entreés. My palate isn't that sophisticated."

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It's been an odd day. I sleep well.

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