Falling behind again

Oh, dear, where was I? Words, words. I wrote an additional 200 on Saturday afternoon. I am foolishly smug about that.

I didn't sleep well on Friday night, and actually got up at three in the morning (I hasten to add, this is more like someone with a day job's getting back up at, oh, midnight) to fire off an impassioned email to Eric. The various issues we are dealing with were not keeping me awake, but since I was awake and chewing over a recent conversation, I just sent it. Eric always receives such missives, of which there have been a perhaps excessive number, with a combination of equanimity and serious consideration that I find profoundly endearing.

After that, naturally, I overslept, but I still managed the 200 words, a walk for myself, and a walk for my cat, on Saturday, which was a spring day of surpassing plenty. Green blades show in the lawn in increasing numbers; the trees are dense with buds; the periwinkle is green; the motherwort is coming up. And this is why I don't weed it out properly. It is green in very early gray spring.

At six David and Lydy and I went off to New Delhi. I said a bit later when apologizing to Eric for lateness that we had had a catastrophic failure of pessimism regarding how much time it would take to find parking nearly downtown, but it all worked out.

We had a very pleasant dinner, splitting a bottle of wine that Lydy was correctly apprehensive would be "too well-behaved." I liked it, but it didn't have the kind of roaring effect of a really grand red. It also, unfortunately, made me very sleepy during the performance.

I'm glad to have seen "The Grand Duke," but it is certainly not polished and even if it had been I wonder if it would have felt a bit tired. I was quite hopeful at first, thinking it would have more jokes (it did have some) about the theatrical company most of its characters belong to, or the production of Troilus and Cressida the company is in the midst of. I didn't much take to the songs. But there was some splendid comic acting and some genuinely hilarious moments. It's just not a finished piece of work, Gilbert and Sullivan having stopped speaking to one another by the time the rough draft was done.

Daedala and her escort ended up sitting behind us and we chatted a bit during the intermission. I am always torn two directions about socializing during intermission, even with the people I came with. Sometimes I don't want to. But everybody survived handily. It was more fun talking about the show the next day at the birthday party, though.

Eric and I walked home in the soft spring night, said hello to the cat, and had some conversation about my email. Then he embarked upon an immensely dense and chewy discussion of whether Marx was a technological determinist. By the time he was ready to quit for the night, I couldn't reliably determine whether when he said, "Oh, you'll like this" he meant the sentence structure or the content.

We had some more conversation, lasting until almost dawn and having a highly satisfactory conclusion. It's very stressful knowing he is probably going away, but I suspect we might survive it.

We cancelled our tentative plans to have brunch and a walk in favor of Eric's doing more reading. We had coffee at Acadia, and I went home on the bus, getting off suddenly halfway there and walking home to assure that I would get a walk. I knew my cat would insist on one for himself, and he did.

The birds were making a tremendous and very welcome racket.

Pamela

Sunday

Wrote 200 words. Ceremonially took the upstairs kitchen garbage can outside and washed it thoroughly with the hose. (Phooey; must remember to turn off outside water again before it snows later this week.) Took cat outside on leash. He rolled about on damp dirt, dust, and sidewalks, and ran up a mulberry tree, and stalked a squirrel.

The tulips in the most sheltered part of the south-facing bed by the house have put up the barest red shoots. More motherwort. No signs of the aliens yet (Japanese knotweed, but it took us years to figure that out -- the diagnosis was made in the same day first by Jon Singer and then by Teresa Nielsen Hayden). I wonder if I have actually managed to kill any of them by situating a bird feeder in their midst and putting sunflower seeds in it.

Did laundry and dish stuff; had a bit of conversation with Raphael. Went downstairs and found David. Lydy had decided she had too much to do to come to the party, but David and I went off and collected Eric, and arrived maybe five minutes after the official starting time. There were indeed many many daffodils. Outside it was twilight, with Jupiter showing up proudly, but the sunlight was inside. I was smitten with shyness for a bit -- the people there were certainly some I know and have often seen at parties, but haven't conversed with much.

Because there were not crowds of people and possibly as well because there was no music, Comet turned up and rubbed about on ankles and was very gracious. Bruce felt that we should give equal admiration to Maggie, so he took Eric and Daedala and me upstairs and showed us Maggie reclining very magestically on her pillow. Then he picked her up and turned her upsidedown, which she put up with perfect dignity.

Elise turned up and showed us her gemology book, and David handed over some photographs he'd done for her.

I didn't get to talk to everyone I might have wished to, but I did manage to have actual conversations with Beth and Lynn and Nate and Karen and Bruce. I thought I had already introduced Nate and Eric, but if I did it didn't take somehow. Nate introduced himself in a definite manner, so I think it's taken care of now.

When the ice cream started to look too tempting I asked about the non-dairy alternatives. The Oatscreme was extremely interesting. It wasn't like ice cream, but it was dessertlike. Karen got out a jar of raspberry jam that had failed to jammify and had thence been designated as sauce, and it really dressed the basic frozen smooth cold stuff up beautifully.

Eric and I went out onto the back porch and looked at Jupiter, and he patiently showed me for the umpteenth time Castor, Pollux, Procyon, Rigil, and Sirius. Karen suddenly appeared with an offer of binoculars. "You know you can see the Galilean moons with binoculars, right?" Bruce brought them out a few minutes later.

I hadn't done any binocular astronomy since Hale-Bopp was in our skies. I love the moment when the twinkly dot in the sky becomes a sphere. And yes, two moons. It was hard to keep the binoculars steady; I'd forgotten the trick of it. Eric lay down on the deck, and then I did too, and that was easier.

Juan came out and spoke to us briefly; Eileen and Daedala came and sat with us for a while, conversing amiably. Eventually everyone went in to get various comestibles, and I talked to Beth and Eric some more. I think it was at that point that we discussed Liavek and got into to what degree the fictional regent of that city's effect on its teenaged ruler might mirror the effect of Richelieu on Louis XIV.

Eric and I went back outside for a bit of private conversation. We were feeling entirely in charity with one another. Comet came out and streaked up a tree, very like her namesake -- if comets had to do with trees I am sure they would look just like that. Bruce came out with Maggie, who looked completely wild, unlike the indoor pampered persona she had had on her pillow. Bruce said she had "the spring zooms."

It's hard to describe the atmosphere of the evening, but it was utterly lovely: relaxing and stimulating at once, gracious and witty and silly and homey and celebratory all at once. I had a wonderful time.

We left at ten, as requested, and took Eric home. I ended up with two jars of daffodils and Eric had one and a slice of leftover cake. I believe, however, that everything got home safely enough.

I watched an episode of "Angel" with Raphael, and had some literary discussion. I looked at my book, but didn't add anything.

Pamela