i was a bad me and decided to not take my camera on this wonderful evening. it was a bit cumbersome for my outfit. perhaps i shall recreate the evening for you thusly:
We were dropped off at Dobson's...it was really crowded with lawyers enjoying happy hour, so we
enjoyed our meal at the bar. I had a delicious steak dinner and Teresa chose the sea scallops. Two manhattans later, we walked in the wonderful drizzle to the civic center.
This theatre is so very Russian! Loving all that red.
We had fabulous seats.
We then walked to the US Grant hotel and sipped Oban (McCallan for her) in the gorgeous lounge.
Here's the pic I snapped for the saint.
(i think the gentleman in the background might be my favorite part of this particular photo)
My sister is a pretty freaking fabulous date...
such rich conversation, such great poise and elegance, gorgeous taste,
ridiculously charming humor and warmth, and generous as hell.
The opera itself was rather poignant for this time in our lives and we both wept quite a bit.
We enjoyed our time together so much,
we felt young, beautiful, and full of the inspiration that only art can bring.
It was this night that I remember my insides saying, "Everything's going to be okay."
And for the first time, I believed it.
Grazi, Verdi.
Merci, ma soeur et mon ami.
I am happy to report on two specific items that are lifting my spirits.
ONE:
My sister has decided to treat us to a night at the opera. On Tuesday night, we'll be heading to
La Traviata
and I am just quite eager to clean up (turns out that living with a child decreases your wardrobe to t-shirts and jeans, huh, who knew?) and taking in some musical art. Teresa loves the opera and we are flexing our wings and soaring into a new life...what a better way to do it?
TWO:
A benevolent friend has decided to fly me home for a weekend to spend with my husband before I move Teresa and Clara home with us. We've been apart for five weeks now, and I had really been been wanting to do it, but we decided to pay our taxes instead...being the upstanding citizens that we are. Then in quite the gallant manner, our generous friend decided to donate his hard-earned air miles. It will be so good to be home with Joel.
So good.
CORRECTION...THREE ITEMS:
I heard my sister singing today.
Though we (she) has a long road ahead of her (one I pray to god I could save her from or at least speed up for her), these days where the burden feels slightly more manageable are gifts indeed.
Off to bed exhausted and hopeful,
crm
BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
I have been a busy bee.
The saint and I are exhausted from one diverting weekend. Out late sipping Spanish wine Friday night, out late at the
Opera Saturday night, eating cake with Grandpa on Sunday...I tell you, it's been hard to recover (I am using this excuse to remain in my pajamas after having slept a rather naughty amount - though I confess to needing 9-10 hours of sleep per night (HEY, Sylvia Plath spoke a similar confession in a letter to her mother. I am therefore justified). My hot tea and my bowl of granola will help me...plus this intimate push of fog is wooing me into cognition.
But I must tell you of the
Opera...
Back when I was out of town for two weeks, my lover missed me when he turned on the classical music station (I am a sucker for listening to classical, romantic, and chamber music). The station was hosting an advertisement for
La Traviata, and he decided to come home and purchase tickets right away. Later that night, while we were speaking on the phone of my horrible migraine and his not being there to rub it away, he consoled me with taking me to the opera. His one condition? I had to buy myself a new dress (if you have just joined me, you may now well get why he is named the saint).
So last week I scoured a few thrift and consignment stores and found THE PERFECT 1960s green wool dress. Alas, it was handmade and one size too small for my big Norwegian bones, so I found another suitable black dress that was just stylized enough for my new shoes (an $80 pair acquired for $25!!!!) and hat.
That evening, I slipped into a hot bath to prepare for the night. I got to thinking about how I often need to take a serious amount of time to ready myself for events not only because it might take longer than I expected to acheive the desired affect, but more so that I can rest my soul - so that my feminine graces carry me throughout the evening. I can therefore be confident because I am rested and have pampered myself.
I got to thinking about how many woman probably haven't felt that way since perhaps their wedding day. Society allows for a woman to pamper herself that day...a long hot bath, a massage, a lazy breakfast in luxury...a bride is ENCOURAGED to make herself and her beauty the focus of the morning. Why does this not occur in any cultural way AFTER the wedding? I have long since copied my wedding morning by getting ready for events in the same way (and girls, this requires giving yourself at LEAST an hour or two to get ready), I realize how much more relaxed, sexy, and graceful the event becomes for me.
So when is the last time that you scheduled a licentious amount of readying time? Light a candle, have a pre-funk cocktail, find your center, and be your sexy self.
Ladies and Gents, that marks the end of the self-help catagory of this entry.
The very first scene of
La Traviata brought tears...and as they cascaded down my rosy cheeks, I grabbed the saint's arm and quietly thanked god for a man who sees what I need with imagination; for a man with a resplendent tool belt for love. I wanted to shout my love and appreciation of him from the treetops of my soul. This is the affect the Opera has upon my soul; now you can see why he does it.
3.5 hours later, the very last scene knocked us back into our seats like a roller coaster ride, and we clapped and clapped all the way home. Another bath and I was off to bed.
Today promises to be not as fun as my weekend. Taking Lolita for an emissions test (bleck), and today is officially laundry day here at Bookling Manor. Hope your Monday looks good on you.
