February 08, 2006

9:27 p.m.

Old Lady, Old Soul Activities

These include:

Going to rehearsal on the wrong day.

Naming all my plants. (Aurelia. Inge. Olivia and Oliander. Alain. Kitty. Paula. Those are the aralia, swedish ivy, orchids, aloe, cat palm and pothos, respectively.)

(Whoops, I didn't name the pothos and philodendron in the bathroom. Thank God I'll have something to do tomorrow.)

Listening to Kate Rusby and accepting my various fates, mournful and fortuitous, over glasses of wine and a knitting project.

Thinking about that old song, "Groovin' on a Sunday Afternoon," coming to the line that goes, "Life will be ecstasy / you and me and Leslie," and shouting out, "Who the hell is Leslie, anyway??"

Dwelling in a complete fantasy world wherein I can have everything my way.

Thinking how unsightly stubble is.

Wondering how long it will be until the dent in my mattress, in the shape of my ass, will start to become incompatible with sleep.

Wondering if I should have cultivated more friendships for later life.

Wondering who I'd be if I didn't play music.

Wondering if there's a daughter somewhere that I didn't have, and if she knows me.

Soaking my feet, filing toenails, and applying peppermint foot lotion and socks before bed.

Looking at naked girls online and thinking how creaseless and unformed they are, and how much they still have to go through, and hoping they'll be all right.

Replacing all the burned-out tealights.

Watching tv with headphones so my neighbor won't hear anything or know what I'm doing.

Getting excited about high-fiber cereal. (Good Friends High Fiber: 12 grams per serving.)

********

I was in my sister's neighborhood yesterday afternoon, so I called her at the office to ask if she wanted me to pick up some sushi for dinner. She said she was meeting Sandra for dinner, and thought there might be a confrontation about Sandra's intended, Weber. I've been looking around at past entries to see where I might have written about him before, but I'm not finding anything. Sandra has been Rose's best friend for years, and for the first time in her life she's fallen in love and suddenly is engaged to this guy who is creeping everyone out. His conversation usually consists of repeated, gratuitous compliments and flattery of those around him, I mean repeated ad nauseum, yet he won't really talk about himself -- he's very dicey about where he lives, for example. (I think he lives with his parents for some reason, though he's at least in his late forties.) He's a doctor and has a longstanding practice, but his coworkers seem to dislike him and won't say why. He's head over heels in love with Sandra, and the way her life has gone it's pretty obvious she feels this is her only chance at love. Fine... but they haven't been dating very long, and now they're engaged and committing themselves to a $50,000 wedding next year. Fifty grand. Um. Rose can't stand to be in his company any more -- after a few attempts at socializing, and getting the same loop tape over and over and not being able to get to know him at all, she's given up. And Sandra, of course, is less confidential with Rose and Mike because she's confiding in Weber now, so the distance keeps widening on both sides. ANYway, Rose asked me if I would go to the dinner, and I went, and her friend Ayn (the retired police officer and detective) came too. There was some question over whether Weber had been married before and wasn't telling anyone, but that turned out to be another person with his name and same middle initial. So, in the absence of any real ammo, Rose simply brought up the cost of the wedding and asked her if she was sure that's what they wanted to do, as it was an insane amount to spend on a midlife wedding. (rest of sentence, unspoken: "...to someone that nobody trusts or likes except you!") I sense a drifting apart coming, and I do hope that in the coming few months Sandra is able to see him objectively and decide whether indeed she wants to dwell with this person the rest of her life. It's so awkward; everyone's embarrassed by him. He showed up at the "wedding trade show" at the castle they've picked, unshaven, unkempt, untucked, unbuttoned. Like a longtime bachelor who has no idea how to be among women or civilized company. As Ayn said, "He's got the nose hair goin' on, he's got the ear hair goin' on..." Yet he's just inappropriately eager to please and to flatter.

So that was dinner last night. Nothing really came of that part of the conversation, and I think Rose just has to let things take their course. Sandra is responsible for her own choices and her own happiness, and ultimately it's none of our business. Still, I know what it's like to have a boyfriend who embarrasses or concerns everyone else, and just not see it.

Ayn told us more stories of her life, in her inimitably entertaining style. She is so smart. I can see how she must have been an excellent cop -- the right mixture of smarts, strength, nerve and humor. Since she "retired," she's been offered numerous positions here and there -- most recently as a part time security guard at an elementary school. A friend's daughter goes there whom she sometimes babysits, and to this girl she's known as "Gramma Ayn," though she's not related by blood. One day when she went to deliver the child to school, she found she had to sign in and state her relationship to the girl. She conversed a little with the woman at reception, and later when she went to pick her up again, the woman practically offered her the job. She's like that -- just comes off as trustworthy and competent.

But Geez, she said to us, can you imagine that now we need security guards at an elementary school? I guess sometimes the non-custodial parents try to come get the kids and spirit them away, and then there's trouble.

I sit rubbing my eyes with not much else to say. Oh Kate, sing to me again, and I'll think of all my past loves and put them in a box for safekeeping. Tonight my heart is in your hands.