Weekends, with life and death and memories.
Life is short, y'all.
My community has lost another. We weren't very close...
I say that a lot, don't I. Perhaps it is my good fortune that my most immediate of circles has been spared, or perhaps it's that there are so few in it.
As a Russian song from a movie (repeated interminably around New Years) reminds, if you don't have an aunt or a house or a friend, you'll never experience losing one. (Your choice, to have or not, the song says, but is it?)
I've not talked to her in a few years, but back in the day I dated her housemate and spent quite a bit of time in her dwelling, and my memories of her are quite vivid. I had to call said ex with the news.
She made national news. She was an editor for NPR, and her colleagues wrote warmly of her, and national publications carried the story. She was my age. It was sudden and unexpected and shocking.
The next day a pair of friends of mine got married.
Their story is more intertangled with mine, many of their early interactions having been as they shared a commute to the rehearsals of my directorial debut, All's Well That Ends Well. They live far enough away from me that we don't see each other very often, but I'm very fond of them both and grateful that they wanted me there.
It was an outdoor affair with a ceremony as unique as its participants, and well-suited to them. Most of our shared circle were asked to contribute to the proceedings... My own contribution was rather less anticipated, which is perhaps in character as well.
After the ceremony the space needed to be converted from theater seating to banquet style. The father of the bride - also one of our theater folk - called out, "I need someone to.... aha, [my name]! Can you please take charge of rearranging the furniture?" But of course. I do what I do, which is call out "Hey folks, I need some hands for moving the chairs, please", and the theater contingent start, and a few others pitch in, and it happens. (I am a little wistful, because there was a big deal made of ceremony participants getting a pretty trinket that designated them as event staff, but I suppose the ad hoc acknowledgement of my capacity for as-needed cat-herding is something to be pleased by).
The wedding was a mini-reunion of All's Well, which felt quite amazing. I got to see my marvelous stage manager, and the couple who I think of as My Theater Kids came up from TN. I don't think I had realized just how much I've been missing them until I saw them.
The Kids had dinner with us the night prior, which calls for a restaurant review.
Dive Bar and Grille in Savage has moved into the space formerly occupied by Ram's Head, and is an enormous improvement as far as the food quality is concerned. It was a brisk evening to dine outdoors, but the heat lamps held up, and the enormous patio surrounded by trees and lights made for a stunning ambiance.
The cocktail menu was extensive and inventive and delicious.
The crab dip was crabby and tasty and came with tortilla chips and pita both. The crab tater tots were well-reviewed by those who like tater tots, which is everyone who's not me. Having filled up on the appetizers I could not finish my ahi tuna wrap-which-I-had-as-a-sandwich, and it was still good the next day, and so were the house-made chips. All else in the party were content with their food as well. Must revisit, and might make a habit in better days.
I did not attend Philcon. I was highly tempted after the Worldcon meeting, but a zoom theater thing came up, and I let my second thoughts make me opt for that. Then the thing cancelled itself with less than a day's notice. Which was disappointing, and I was feeling rather down for its lack, but I did have an entertaining weekend of a pick-up zoom reading of Corneille's The Liar and a delightful dinner with friends whose new dog I turned out to not be terrified of! (This is a rare dog compliment as far as I'm concerned.)
Turkey Day was spent mellowly Chez Favorite Ex, who was very considerate to omit the very oniony chicken stock from the turkey brine. Unfortunately he did not think to cook the stuffing while I wasn't there, so Spouse and I popped off and walked to the nearby lake for long enough for the smell to clear, lucking into a stunning sunset and a heron perched on a tree.
The day after was a whole lot less mellow, commencing with a grand grocery shopping expedition which scored us a ridiculously cheap turkey, which we then cooked on Saturday.
We did not realize that the CVS my booster shot was scheduled for was at a Target, but it was in a reasonably secluded corner, and parking was merely baddish despite the bustle of the rest of the store.
After a hasty lunch we proceeded to Heptadecagram's to help his wife and daughter decorate their tree. It used to be our annual custom, but we'd fallen out of touch for a few years before reconnecting this summer. Reviving the tradition felt familiar and comforting. (And, Hept saved me a slice of appeltaart, which was both delicious and another fond recollection of our shared history.)
Then, Favorite Ex was having a low-key leftovers party, and we arrived at it in time for tea and dessert, which did mean we failed to have dinner that day, but blueberry pie was excellent and much welcome.
And then
vvalkyri invited me over to the place she is house-sitting, to which she inadvertently - via a multi-step complicated story I am not sure I quite followed - invited two gentlemen dancers to take advantage of the spacious floor, whom she therefore wanted to provide with a second follow.
The wedding I mentioned earlier had concluded with an open mic for toasts and speeches. My contribution - as I am sometimes prone to - compared a partnership in relationships to partnership in dances, and spoke of dance being a conversation, not just lead and follow, but both parties listening to each other, communicating, creating something together, compensating for the inevitable little slip-ups, making each other look and feel good.
I am quite spoiled to have over the years developed something very much like that with my usual partner, but it's a rare treat indeed to run into a stranger whose style and musicality are compatible enough with mine for dance to feel like that.
Which made this evening all the more delightful, as I found a partner who enjoyed playing with the music and complimented me on my follow style, while at the same time giving me enormous amounts of opportunity to play with musicality too. Most of what we danced was blues. We also threw in a merengue (my poor sore muscles and my total lack of body memory for the hip movement!) and a waltz. And he very graciously - upon my request and after triple-checking that his advice was welcome - gave me a refresher on West Coast Swing.
The amazing evening had to end at 1:30am when I realized that I barely had about enough awake in me to drive home...
The next day, waking up too early, I learned that if one overdoes it sufficiently, one cannot tell if one is having a booster shot reaction or one's body calling one names on general principles. A bit of both, no doubt.
All of which entirely knocked me out of my vague intent to attend at least some of the virtual Chessiecon, but by Sunday I managed to get adequate sleep and be less a mess. Originally posted at https://leiacat.dreamwidth.org/354225.html. Please comment either there using OpenID or right here. I read both with the same distracted semi-frequency.
My community has lost another. We weren't very close...
I say that a lot, don't I. Perhaps it is my good fortune that my most immediate of circles has been spared, or perhaps it's that there are so few in it.
As a Russian song from a movie (repeated interminably around New Years) reminds, if you don't have an aunt or a house or a friend, you'll never experience losing one. (Your choice, to have or not, the song says, but is it?)
I've not talked to her in a few years, but back in the day I dated her housemate and spent quite a bit of time in her dwelling, and my memories of her are quite vivid. I had to call said ex with the news.
She made national news. She was an editor for NPR, and her colleagues wrote warmly of her, and national publications carried the story. She was my age. It was sudden and unexpected and shocking.
The next day a pair of friends of mine got married.
Their story is more intertangled with mine, many of their early interactions having been as they shared a commute to the rehearsals of my directorial debut, All's Well That Ends Well. They live far enough away from me that we don't see each other very often, but I'm very fond of them both and grateful that they wanted me there.
It was an outdoor affair with a ceremony as unique as its participants, and well-suited to them. Most of our shared circle were asked to contribute to the proceedings... My own contribution was rather less anticipated, which is perhaps in character as well.
After the ceremony the space needed to be converted from theater seating to banquet style. The father of the bride - also one of our theater folk - called out, "I need someone to.... aha, [my name]! Can you please take charge of rearranging the furniture?" But of course. I do what I do, which is call out "Hey folks, I need some hands for moving the chairs, please", and the theater contingent start, and a few others pitch in, and it happens. (I am a little wistful, because there was a big deal made of ceremony participants getting a pretty trinket that designated them as event staff, but I suppose the ad hoc acknowledgement of my capacity for as-needed cat-herding is something to be pleased by).
The wedding was a mini-reunion of All's Well, which felt quite amazing. I got to see my marvelous stage manager, and the couple who I think of as My Theater Kids came up from TN. I don't think I had realized just how much I've been missing them until I saw them.
The Kids had dinner with us the night prior, which calls for a restaurant review.
Dive Bar and Grille in Savage has moved into the space formerly occupied by Ram's Head, and is an enormous improvement as far as the food quality is concerned. It was a brisk evening to dine outdoors, but the heat lamps held up, and the enormous patio surrounded by trees and lights made for a stunning ambiance.
The cocktail menu was extensive and inventive and delicious.
The crab dip was crabby and tasty and came with tortilla chips and pita both. The crab tater tots were well-reviewed by those who like tater tots, which is everyone who's not me. Having filled up on the appetizers I could not finish my ahi tuna wrap-which-I-had-as-a-sandwich, and it was still good the next day, and so were the house-made chips. All else in the party were content with their food as well. Must revisit, and might make a habit in better days.
I did not attend Philcon. I was highly tempted after the Worldcon meeting, but a zoom theater thing came up, and I let my second thoughts make me opt for that. Then the thing cancelled itself with less than a day's notice. Which was disappointing, and I was feeling rather down for its lack, but I did have an entertaining weekend of a pick-up zoom reading of Corneille's The Liar and a delightful dinner with friends whose new dog I turned out to not be terrified of! (This is a rare dog compliment as far as I'm concerned.)
Turkey Day was spent mellowly Chez Favorite Ex, who was very considerate to omit the very oniony chicken stock from the turkey brine. Unfortunately he did not think to cook the stuffing while I wasn't there, so Spouse and I popped off and walked to the nearby lake for long enough for the smell to clear, lucking into a stunning sunset and a heron perched on a tree.
The day after was a whole lot less mellow, commencing with a grand grocery shopping expedition which scored us a ridiculously cheap turkey, which we then cooked on Saturday.
We did not realize that the CVS my booster shot was scheduled for was at a Target, but it was in a reasonably secluded corner, and parking was merely baddish despite the bustle of the rest of the store.
After a hasty lunch we proceeded to Heptadecagram's to help his wife and daughter decorate their tree. It used to be our annual custom, but we'd fallen out of touch for a few years before reconnecting this summer. Reviving the tradition felt familiar and comforting. (And, Hept saved me a slice of appeltaart, which was both delicious and another fond recollection of our shared history.)
Then, Favorite Ex was having a low-key leftovers party, and we arrived at it in time for tea and dessert, which did mean we failed to have dinner that day, but blueberry pie was excellent and much welcome.
And then
vvalkyri invited me over to the place she is house-sitting, to which she inadvertently - via a multi-step complicated story I am not sure I quite followed - invited two gentlemen dancers to take advantage of the spacious floor, whom she therefore wanted to provide with a second follow.
The wedding I mentioned earlier had concluded with an open mic for toasts and speeches. My contribution - as I am sometimes prone to - compared a partnership in relationships to partnership in dances, and spoke of dance being a conversation, not just lead and follow, but both parties listening to each other, communicating, creating something together, compensating for the inevitable little slip-ups, making each other look and feel good.
I am quite spoiled to have over the years developed something very much like that with my usual partner, but it's a rare treat indeed to run into a stranger whose style and musicality are compatible enough with mine for dance to feel like that.
Which made this evening all the more delightful, as I found a partner who enjoyed playing with the music and complimented me on my follow style, while at the same time giving me enormous amounts of opportunity to play with musicality too. Most of what we danced was blues. We also threw in a merengue (my poor sore muscles and my total lack of body memory for the hip movement!) and a waltz. And he very graciously - upon my request and after triple-checking that his advice was welcome - gave me a refresher on West Coast Swing.
The amazing evening had to end at 1:30am when I realized that I barely had about enough awake in me to drive home...
The next day, waking up too early, I learned that if one overdoes it sufficiently, one cannot tell if one is having a booster shot reaction or one's body calling one names on general principles. A bit of both, no doubt.
All of which entirely knocked me out of my vague intent to attend at least some of the virtual Chessiecon, but by Sunday I managed to get adequate sleep and be less a mess. Originally posted at https://leiacat.dreamwidth.org/354225.html. Please comment either there using OpenID or right here. I read both with the same distracted semi-frequency.