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Saturday May 26, 2001
"The older you get, the more you get to be like yourself" Ida Davidoff, an Expert on Aging, quoted in The New York Times on the occasion of her death at age 97, as quoted by Betty Friedan in her book "The Fountain of Age."
friends in Amy's in 1998
reflecting on a rainy day |
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the long weekend I wake up dreaming about how to use a pronoun in Latin. I'm not kidding. I don't remember a shred of Latin, I swear except amo, amas, amat. Hmm. Perhaps I should study some Latin? I feel tired. I try coffee. I answer e-mail from FFP. Yes, we e-mail each other. Mostly with investment ideas and move around the money questions. Also, just stuff we think about while sitting at the computer. Occasionally, we even discuss BIG ISSUES, whatever that might be. We don't really have many big issues, but you know. It's a way to have a conversation that works better sometimes than the real thing. Easier to stay on topic. After doing this and that, we decide to have a walk. FFP wants to get out of the neighborhood. We park not far from Tarry House, a little known and exclusive west Austin club, and walk to Mozart's. The weather changes while we look at a giveaway magazine over iced coffee. A cool wind, a bit of thunder and lightning and rain. We hide under a not quite weatherproof overhang and it rains on. Finally, we decide the only way to stop it is to call a cab, go get the car and come back for the dog. FFP does the cab calling and car fetching and, sure enough, the rain is lots lighter when he comes back for me and a slightly damp dog. "Well, that was an adventure!" I say. Or maybe he said. Or maybe the dog. Somebody. Maybe all of us. And it was. I did some work. I know. I usually do a better job of separating work and play. Of just shutting it off for the weekend. I felt I had to do some. That out of the way, I started thinking about some personal projects. Like a getwell greeting for a friend, inventing an alphabet, stuff like that. Master Class. It is a play about a class that Maria Callas gave after her voice and most of her hope for life was gone. She instructs three students, interacts with the accompanist and gives the stagehand a hard time. The audience in the intimate theater is also a part of the class. At Zach Scott, it's a good play and well-produced and acted. Fun. We are wasted after the play, though, and don't stay for the reception. Our bellies are full of the Scholtzsky's we had before the play. Our eyes are drooping. We need a long, long sleep.
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