November 06, 2005

10:47 p.m.

The Ladybug Nest

I noticed a week or two ago that ladybugs were finding their way into my apartment. I nearly always try to free them. I take them out onto the balcony and put them on the one remaining potted plant. I don't want to toss them out the window; although they can fly, they're not quick on the uptake and they're very, very fragile. No one would hear the little "splat" if they didn't unfold the wings in time.

So, ladybugs. They start out orange when they're healthy, but when they're malnourished, they pale and turn yellowish brown. By then they're dead. So, as ladybugs are lucky in general and also very good for keeping aphids down, I always try to help them out.

Before Oswego I discovered that the nest seems to be in the walls of the house, just outside my balcony door. I feel at once quite privileged and rather anxious about this. As though I'm responsible, as the B&B owner, for their welfare while they're in residence. But I've freed several and feel pretty good about that.

So imagine my surprise when, on two occasions during this weekend's trip to NY State, I discovered ladybugs in my car.

One has immigrated to a grassy strip at a rest stop along I-90 in the eastern part of the state; the other took up residence in a gas station planter near Syracuse. That one was looking slightly pale; I hope there were aphids in the neighborhood.

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We had a very nice gig in Oswego. The room was full, the monitors were horrible and shrill. We played pretty well, sold moderately. A number of folks had seen us before, which is good.

Then we stayed with a couple of volunteers from the series, whom we'd met two years ago. I barely remembered them until we'd talked a while. What wonderful, interesting people. They're both retired; she's German, he's American. They're adventurous and travel widely. Japan, South America; next it'll be Crete. They fed us potato leek curry soup with vegetables from their own garden, and sent us home with bulbs of homegrown garlic.

We stayed up late talking, trading travel stories and laughing, eating soup and drinking wine and petting their cat, "The Wookie," who is blind in one eye from a fight.

In the morning they fed us a spectacular German-style breakfast with a soft boiled egg, various hearty breads, homemade jams, cheese and a kind of salami, and a sort of apple crumble thing George made with apples from their very own tree. I slept surprisingly well on a very firm futon bed that dipped in the middle. I remember German beds being made up differently from ours, from my childhood years there; when I got to my guest room, I found that, under the comforter, the sheets had been put on in reverse order: the flat sheet first, all tucked in, and the fitted one over it. I supposed she expected me to sleep simply under the comforter, which had a duvet cover on it. However, being the habitual American that I am, I pulled up the fitted sheet at the top and slept under that, replacing everything in the morning!

On the way back we stopped in Syracuse to meet with someone who has been a part time booking assistant. She and her family moved last year and she's been a little out of commission for us, so we wanted to reestablish contact and see what might be done from here on in. Then we continued back to Connecticut. I stopped at Rose's and then joined them at her friend Lisa's house for dinner, where I met Lisa's newish boyfriend for the second time and had completely forgotten meeting him the first time. I guess I was more embarrassed than he was put out when I re-introduced myself and he reminded me that we'd met. I hate that I do that, but the fact is that I don't remember people very well after one meeting. In fact, none of the band could remember our German lady's first name, the whole time we were there. In the morning I sneaked a look at the back of one of their coffee-table magazines and read the mailing label. Fortunately both their names were on there. Heike isn't an easy name to remember (I kept thinking Helga), but it still was a bit awkward in our minds. When we left, we signed over a DVD to them and I was very glad by then we knew their names! And no one any the wiser.

And now I'm home and trying to unwind before going to bed. So sleepy all damn day, and now I just want to stay up. But we're in Boston tomorrow on the radio, so I do have to get up early again. Third night running with not quite enough sleep. Rose has invited me to dinner tomorrow again, which will be cooked by two gorgeous, scathingly funny gay friends of hers whom I haven't met. It sounds like fun but I'm letting the jury stay out until I get back from Boston. I may just need to lay low and sleep early.

By the way, if anyone hasn't already bookmarked this website for repeated, fun reading, please take a look. Sarah (a.k.a. "Sars") is a wonderful essayist and also has an advice column ("the Vine") that is funny, down to earth, and doesn't tolerate any crap. She's one of my favorite reads. (She's also a grammar goddess.)

Well, that's got to be it for now. Sleep well, world.