Saturday,
February 15, 2003
|
|
|||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
warm with clouds SuRu and I agree to tramp around the neighborhood although it feels damp. It's warm though. At one point there is a black cloud but it disappears without effect. We don't really know where we are going. We cross 45th without really discussing it. Then we aren't going to stop for a break and then we do, going to the CC's coffee on 38th. Later in the day, I'll read in yesterday's paper that these coffee shops are going to close. But at the moment, I'm dealing with a new employee apparently. An older woman. She makes my Americano and then catches me at the door and says that she made it wrong, it should have two shots, not one. I don't know if she's right. It's a 'tall' which is the smallest they make. She does it over from scratch. It tastes fine. I only get Americano because it lasts longer to drink espresso mixed with water. We sit a pretty long time and then head more or less back, trying to angle by a house SuRu has seen an ad for as a 'fixer upper.' Things are blooming and, as I say, it's warm. I have on a long-sleeved T-Shirt, no jacket.
I'm sitting in front of the computer after the dog walk when FFP asks if I want to go to Container Store. A little rack we had on the back of the cabinet door under the sink has cracked after all these years. He wants to get another. He's been to the neighborhood hardware store and they didn't have anything like that, but he got some high-intensity lamp bulbs. I think the distraction sounds good. "Have you had lunch?" he asks. "No, nor breakfast," I say. We head out without deciding where to go, he with his book and I with a section from The New York Times from the last couple of days that himself had called to my attention. It's 11:10. I suggest that, at this early hour, we try Houston's. We have that house-smoked salmon which is delicious and I have the seared Ahi tuna salad which is also. FFP has some snapper with Brussel's sprouts. I try one. They are very good. The trip to Container Store results in the purchase of a rack for the cabinet door, a paper towel holder (that plastic thing under the cabinet shattered the other day), a slide-out rack to put lids in for the pots and pans cabinet, a gift sack and tissue for the gift I need to buy and a new can opener. Container Store is over-priced but it's a relatively easy shop. The can opener is one of these that doesn't leave a sharp edge. The cheap can openers we had were maddeningly difficult to use. I'd looked to buy a new one a couple of times but it took FFP standing there saying to do it. Silly. As long as we are on a roll, we go to South Congress to buy the actual gift. Since I've already scouted and since we find a parking place right in front of the two stores I'm going to purchase the stuff in, we are done in a trice. But only after a traffic jam getting there through the César Chavez corridor. We go back down Congress to Ben White and to Mopac to get home. I decide to go on and make a card and fix the gift sack and have it out of the way. That goes pretty fast. I spend time doing this and that and then decide that I should really go to the gym. Yes, I walked the dog, but I need something a bit more intense. I do 45+ minutes on the bike while reading Joan Didion's The Last Thing He Wanted. It's sort of a difficult read, with a lot of stylistic affectations but it's interesting. Home again, I shower up and read the newspapers that are piling up while sitting in my bathrobe. FFP goes to the club (his second time today?) and returns to get ready for the theater.
Twisted Olivia is, it must be said, one of the 'one-man crossdresser' shows. How many are there? I don't know but this is two I've seen at this theater. I admit that using Oliver Twist gives this gentleman a chance to be frenetic and kinetic and do a bunch of roles. It's so kinetic, though, that I fall asleep in the second half because, I think, he just wore me out. During my blackout, fake money has fallen all over the audience and there is a xeroxed dollar at my feet. In fairness, I stayed up too late last night. So when we get home, I go directly to bed and, although I surf the cable channels (it takes so long now to conclude that there is nothing you want to see that you haven't already seen) and read a bit, I'm soon asleep.
|
|
||
|
signs of spring if not peace
|
||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
171
JUST
TYPING