Saturday February 27
Produced RK reports and then made the very evil NY Times scrambled egg recipe, which cooks in an artery clogging stick of butter.
Lackluster rain day, although with earth rediscovered, so that’s good.
Mostly did diary editing and watched more Pema. Made a faux Spanish chicken dish, which turned out well. We watched more John Wilson documentaries and a couple west wings.
Sunday February 28
The mass this morning had a blessing for Eamon, and Liz was holding a brunch afterward. So we all went to it, even Michael. Ann’s brother Eddie, his wife Joanna, and daughter Marianna, Richard W, and Dave and Janet were in church. The homily was interesting, with Father Anthony analyzing Raphael’s painting of the transfiguration. Later we checked the painting in Wikipedia, which had an interpretation that was an entirely different from the priest’s. The interpretations I read later focused on the either the conflicting or complementary top and bottom. But I only read one that addressed the female figure that dominates the bottom of the painting. No one seems to care you who is but she I definitely the elephant in the painting.
Liz and Geoff’s brunch afterward was a little Covid scary. No masks. No social distancing I sat next to Janet, not because we are great chums, but because there were only two chairs to support our mutual leg and hip disabilities, and they were set up next to each.
I talked to Ann’s brother, Eddie, who is a detective in Mt. Vernon and looks like a movie star. Ate too much. A good event for Ann, surrounded by her friends and family. She was given a bunch of money from Eamon’s estate and is getting pulled into the legal aspects of deal with it, which she even admits is intended to distract her, and not because she’s interested in any of the estate.
Liz had called the day before and asked where she could get clementines for the brunch. I told her I had gotten three bags from Hannaford. She said, "Great." I asked how many she needed. And she said, "Can I have one?" I thought she meant one orange, which was a little weird, but figured maybe she cooking with it. So, I generously brought four, which she put on a plate and set on the table. I found out later that she had meant one bag, not one clementine, and that she had wanted to serve them piled in bowl because the table lacked color. I am neurotically stingy with food.
Dropped Willie off at the train, and I took a nap. Then put together a rice pudding, which may or may not work.
Had leftovers for dinner and watched Wanda and West Wing.
Monday March 1
Worked all morning on RK reports. Still lots of fixes to make.
Watched the last Pema session. It’s been very worthwhile. Working toward a practice that I can rely on because of its mutability, making the effort of surprising oneself.
This is what’s called a productive day. Made braised cabbage, mashed potatoes and chicken sausage. Made enough cabbage for Harris and Neville’s visit on Wednesday.
Watched the Alienist. Maybe too dark. Then West Wing,
Tuesday March 2
Wrote an email to our local public radio morning political panel, but they didn’t read it! So here it is;
Cuomo kept me and many others sane for months with his daily Covid pressers. He is about to lose a career that has by and large served the public good because of three casual exchanges. As with the ruinous and unjustified attack on Al Franken one must ask the question: where is the damage? Where is the trauma resulting to these women?
The frivolous and foolish acts of these men are now dumped into the bag of zero tolerance, a term I first heard when Michael Atkin was stationed during Viet Nam at the Air Force Base in Grand Forks, this was stamped on every piece of mail that. At the time I referred to zero tolerance of errors that caused plane crashes. Gillibrand has revived it to mean intolerance of any male behavior that has the whiff of insensitive. It reflects our cultural failure of balance, of empathy, nuance, and worst, a failure of humanity.
Made two apple cakes, one for Harris and Neville’s visit tomorrow another for Liz and Geoff’s dinner tonight, which included Spencer Harper, an old friend of theirs. I met him at Geoff’s studio at Liz’ New Year’s Party a couple weeks after Richard S and I had our final separation. I felt out-of-body and broken. Spenser, an eccentric lawyer from an old Kentucky family, started flirting with me in a gay, funny ironic way—certainly not sexual of course—but not snarky. He was attentive and complimentary. He restored the hope that I would be ok eventually. So it’s always a pleasure to seem. He has a square shape and a wide face heavy with jowls, but eyes are beautiful and they light up has great sneaky smile. Liz told me he has been HIV positive for many years, but living with it successfully.
Spenser had made gumbo and he told stories about his Southern childhood, almost a cliche of servants and nannies, and Geoff gossiped about performers at Carnegie Hall in the eighties. It was fun.
Wednesday March 3
I talked to Willie this morning about his new unsatisfying haircut (was a bit odd) that he got from a barber across the street from his Bronx apartment.
Jeremy called reporting on an odd conversation with his housekeeping co-workers, which he interpreted as losing a day’s work a week. He must have got it wrong. He was also having some trouble hooking up the George Forman grill. It will give him an excuse to FaceTime his father, who can lead him through the hook up.
Spent the morning getting ready for two RK Zoom meetings this afternoon. Food for dinner has all been prepared, so not much to do on the H&N front. During one of the Zoom meetings, Carole was dealing with a double snake invasion of her house. She was taking it very calmly. Some of us on the call were not.
Nice evening with H&N as always. Food was good. Michael and they drank too much wine and smoked too much dope ,so I was the only one that stayed awake through Nomadsland. Good movie.
Thursday March 4
RK all day. Wrestled with a new report then had a two-hour meeting with Carole and Pam, who are gathering potential members for a board, once we are an official non-profit organization. They are looking people with money, professional experience with non-profits, and super volunteers. One of the possible candidates in the latter category wrote our latest appeal letter, very florid and excitable. Carole found a photograph to go with it, a mawkish image of a much too pretty child of indeterminate ethnicity holding a cardboard sign that reads “I am hungry”.
Carole suggested that once we establish a board, that we three get rid of the nitty gritty work that we currently do and each come up with some strategic role that we think can add value. Unfortunately, I like the nitty gritty and, in my experience in any organization, those who play the strategic role always end up being useless.
And I am facing the inevitable end of my work with them, in fact with everyone, which is suddenly making me fearful and sad. Luyun hasn’t scheduled my scan, which is very late. I think he’s given up on me.
Went to town to pick up pizza from Oak. Watched West Wing.
I saw myself in the medicine door mirror and I’m unrecognizable: old saggy and hairless.
Friday March 5
More RK work. Sent out the mailing with the creepy child holding the creepy sign. I think we’re making too many appeals. We have enough money to last a year. And who knows if we’re even needed after things open up.
Took a brief hobble up the driveway. Very cold and windy but the walking went ok.
While making roast beef sandwiches with very, very hot horseradish I remembered logged on and began eating my sandwich trying to talk through the tears and runny nose. Smart women. Ellen Miller, one of them, will do our social media. Very likeable.
Went over to Dave’s for wine at six. Janet wasn’t there, of course. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in their house. I was greeted by two excellent young calico cats, who had replaced the previous late calico cats and whom I’ve seen only a couple times. Dave and Janet have distributed bulb-birthed flowers throughout the living room: daffodils, hyacinths, and muscari (a delicate and gorgeous miniature hyacinth) Each pot was thoughtfully placed on the mantle, in front of a mirror, or on the window sill. The fireplace was splashing warmth and light. Their place is so beautiful, with a comforting and unpretentious aesthetic. Stayed for about an hour. It was both pleasant and sad. On the way back to our home, I told Michael that Janet was in fact a superior human, beautiful, smart, charming, talented. “She’s better than I am. I can’t help it. She’s the mean girl, and I want her to like me.” On the other hand, I have the children she couldn’t have. I certainly would never have traded lives. And it’s probably why she doesn’t like me.
Neville called upset. She wanted to have a birthday dinner for her brother. Who is dying from muscular dystrophy, and he would be bringing his teenage daughter, whose Covid behavior is reckless. Harris wants to put it off until they can eat outside. Neville wants to hold the dinner and are fighting, or whatever they do when they are in conflict. He and Neville are now two weeks from their second shot, and I confidently and belligerently supported Neville with the fuzzy evidence that they had little risk of being infected.
I made a decent meatloaf and pureed leftover mashed potatoes and H&J’s butternut squash. Good dinner. Watched the last Wanda and more West Wing.
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