Thursday

Aug 2, 2001

not an epiphany

"I had, it wasn't an epiphany exactly, but a revelation." said one of the three women at the next table squeezed close to us in the bay window area at La Traviata. She went on to talk about relationships and what she'd figured out about them. We were having tasty soup and rare tuna on greens and duck confit. And a Chianti. The food was great and the bill was reasonable but they had a case of the dropsies. A helper waiter swept his hand away from the table after delivering the soup, dumping my glass of Pellegrino in the tiny space we were sharing with two other tables. It didn't do much damage. The waitress came with one wine glass and the bottle. Filled the wine glass from the Pellegrino bottle to replace the glass on the floor. She presented the wine, pointing out the vintage was wrong on the list. (Good.) But she had to go back now for glasses and dropped the cork on the floor so it rolled under the chair of the person who'd almost been doused with the water. They never poured wine after the first glass (or offered more, free Pellegrino) but you were secretly glad. Another two top joined us in the corner and you just felt it was better with fewer waiter visits. The room was loud, people we knew left and waved outside the glass and we had a great view of the passing parade on Congress. This space used to be High Times Tea Bar and after that some kind of Wine Bar I never went to.

For some reason I feel like celebrating. Celebrating survival. Things are crazy. Doom seems to be crawling around the neighborhood. But I feel safe.

I have my annual doctor's appointment this morning. They are all efficiency, racing me from the room where you fill the cup to the blood pressure taking, the scales, the lab for a pin prick, go in and disrobe completely, 'are you ready?', zoom, zoom, wait here for the doctor when you are dressed, talk to the doctor. He calculates my breast cancer risk on a little calculator, no doubt given him by a drug company. He says my risk is low: a little over one percent for five years, two for lifetime. I don't know what this proves. He likes the results of the blood tests. I want to say, "It's spinach and red wine and lots of liver." But I don't. He can't find any mammo results since 1997. I assure him I had one last year. I know this because I saw it in my journal! Then he finds the results.

I have a big salad at Whole Foods for lunch. With spinach. I feel healthy.

But after the nice dinner we go to Four Seasons. And I make the mistake of thinking I can drink gin. I can't. I'm allergic. Two gin and tonics send me into a strange place when I get home. Halfway between already hungover and having an allergic reaction to something.

Rebecca plays all the good ones. A group of women including someone we know comes in. They've been having a bridal shower. The bride is going to spend two and a half months in Africa for a honeymoon. It's nice to know some people can do that. We still haven't had a honeymoon. Not really. Not like that.

tight squeeze

Rebecca entertains