One of those weekends -- conclusion
Apr. 7th, 2004 01:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanWhen I read the archives of people's journals, or read the published journals or letters of literary figures, I am always fretted by the intermittent lack of continuity. A huge dramafest will dry up, never to reappear. A tempest will appear out of a clear sky, with no explanation. Characters vanish without a trace; new ones appear with no explanation. That is to say, very few personal memoirs are remotely like fiction, I suppose.
In any case, having titled an entry "One of those weekends" and then stopped at Friday, I thought I would finish the story, albeit briefly.
When I got home from seeing Iolanthe I had a telephone message from Eric. It wasn't very late in California, but he's getting himself credentialed to be a substitute teacher, and this means being able to answer a telephone call at five-thirty in the morning and then assemble oneself to face a class of strange kids. So when I called him back, he was in the winding-down phase of his evening and did not want to be either intellectual or sentimental. He had plans for Saturday afternoon and I had my delayed anniversary celebration for Saturday night. We arranged that I'd email him if I discovered a window in which he could call me.
David then sent me email saying that, because this weekend's schedule was too simple, there was a music party as well. There was already a Minn-Stf meeting on Saturday and a Minicon work party on Sunday.
I just wimped out. I spent Saturday afternoon doing tiny finicky yard work -- clearing dead stuff from around sprouting tulips, daffodils and crocuses; watering; raking, only not too much; picking up trash. At around six Raphael and I negotiated a pizza, and I called Pizza Luce and ordered it. They said it would arrive within the hour, but not by much.
About five minutes later the phone rang; it was Eric, having arrived home from his afternoon hike, put his dinner in the microwave, and realized there was time to call me before my evening's festivities commenced. He and an acquaintance had gone hiking in Black Diamond Mines, now a state park of some description. I'd been there with him in February, on two of the wilder, gloomier days we had during that visit. He said it was overflowing with wildflowers and he so wished I had been there. When I was there it was fresh and green and very soggy, but much populated with meadowlarks and loggerhead shrikes. Eric also told me some things about the state of his life that I was grateful to be told but that could be productive of uneasiness.
I didn't worry about them then, though. The pizza arrived. Pizza Luce had left off the red sauce, as they are wont to do with our orders. The resultant dish was tasty enough, but not like pizza. I told Raphael it reminded me of some of the pizzas you can get in Britain, where pizza seems to be any combination of anything one wants to put on a flat crust. Rosemary and potatoes and olive oil; curried chicken; no lamb vindaloo, though.
We watched a first-season episode of "The West Wing," which was lovely but a sad contrast to recent ones. The rest of the evening was an unqualified success.
I forgot that the change to Daylight Savings Time would be occurring overnight, though.
Pamela
In any case, having titled an entry "One of those weekends" and then stopped at Friday, I thought I would finish the story, albeit briefly.
When I got home from seeing Iolanthe I had a telephone message from Eric. It wasn't very late in California, but he's getting himself credentialed to be a substitute teacher, and this means being able to answer a telephone call at five-thirty in the morning and then assemble oneself to face a class of strange kids. So when I called him back, he was in the winding-down phase of his evening and did not want to be either intellectual or sentimental. He had plans for Saturday afternoon and I had my delayed anniversary celebration for Saturday night. We arranged that I'd email him if I discovered a window in which he could call me.
David then sent me email saying that, because this weekend's schedule was too simple, there was a music party as well. There was already a Minn-Stf meeting on Saturday and a Minicon work party on Sunday.
I just wimped out. I spent Saturday afternoon doing tiny finicky yard work -- clearing dead stuff from around sprouting tulips, daffodils and crocuses; watering; raking, only not too much; picking up trash. At around six Raphael and I negotiated a pizza, and I called Pizza Luce and ordered it. They said it would arrive within the hour, but not by much.
About five minutes later the phone rang; it was Eric, having arrived home from his afternoon hike, put his dinner in the microwave, and realized there was time to call me before my evening's festivities commenced. He and an acquaintance had gone hiking in Black Diamond Mines, now a state park of some description. I'd been there with him in February, on two of the wilder, gloomier days we had during that visit. He said it was overflowing with wildflowers and he so wished I had been there. When I was there it was fresh and green and very soggy, but much populated with meadowlarks and loggerhead shrikes. Eric also told me some things about the state of his life that I was grateful to be told but that could be productive of uneasiness.
I didn't worry about them then, though. The pizza arrived. Pizza Luce had left off the red sauce, as they are wont to do with our orders. The resultant dish was tasty enough, but not like pizza. I told Raphael it reminded me of some of the pizzas you can get in Britain, where pizza seems to be any combination of anything one wants to put on a flat crust. Rosemary and potatoes and olive oil; curried chicken; no lamb vindaloo, though.
We watched a first-season episode of "The West Wing," which was lovely but a sad contrast to recent ones. The rest of the evening was an unqualified success.
I forgot that the change to Daylight Savings Time would be occurring overnight, though.
Pamela
no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 01:03 pm (UTC)My own fascinating drama has a satisfactory resolution in this particular case -- Eric had simply presented the facts to me, but when we talked again he said that he too felt uneasy about them. In this case, that was sufficient to reassure me.
Pamela