Monday, August 25, 2008

An Evening Out!

Well, nice things to report at last! None of them have to do with money, unfortunately, but I feel much better.

I went out Saturday night to see my pals John (Polonius) and Larry (Claudius) in Hamlet, and damn near killed myself. The production took place on the Lawn at The Cloisters. Well, kindly remember that I live in the West Village, which means that as far as I'm concerned, The Cloisters is one hell of a long way out of town - I mean, you get off the A train at 190th Street. Trust me - that is out of town. I tend to get a nosebleed going to see Saint Tiger Lily and the Boss, and that's only 118th. (Although I will willingly travel miles for Tiger Lily's cooking!) Not to mention that it was outdoors. With bugs. And trees, which I'm convinced will some day attack me (I feel the same way about butterflies - I'm convinced that one day they'll grow teeth and come after me). Outdoor performances are just wonderful at Damrosch Park at Lincoln Center, where you have an actual chair and can see buildings. When you have to take a blanket and sit on the damn GROUND, it gets problematic. I'll give you The Great Lawn in Central Park for the Philharmonic, because there are reasonably handy delis and Porta-Potties, but put me anywhere twenty goddamn minutes away from a john, having to exist on TicTacs because I'm afraid to drink anything, and you can't see a damn it becoming clear that I will NEVER buy myself a nice house in the country?

Would you believe that I was actually once a Girl Scout and went to a Girl Scout camp in the summer where not only did we live in tents, but once during the session we went primitive camping and I pitched a pup tent and cooked over an open fire? Yeah, I don't believe it either. I did it, you understand - I just don't believe I did it. Forgive me...I was very young. My mantra these days is "Nowhere without taxis and an all night deli!"

And of course The Cloisters - i.e., Fort Tryon Park - tends to be hilly, and the one damn bathroom is about a mile away, all uphill, and the humidity was (no joke - I checked on when I got home) 80%...and what's left of my lungs doesn't do well in humidity, much less when I have to go uphill.

But (perhaps as a thank you), John called today and invited me out for a couple of drinks which ended up with actual food - food and drinks bought by my escort! My God - do you think I've just actually been on a DATE? With JOHN? There's a whole new idea, now isn't it? Naturally, he's leaving town again almost immediately, before I have a chance to consider this new idea...anyway, he's one of my Richard III brothers, and I've never actually thought of it.

At any rate, we had fun.

And I have a job all this week - in a tiny little law office which is only paying me $15.00 an hour. It remains to be seen exactly how much of this will turn up in a we all remember, I did a one day job a few weeks back for which they took out every cent for insurance purposes and I got a paycheck marked $0.00. (Do you love the fact that they actually paid for the computer to write a check for no money and then for the postage to send it to me?) We shall see.
I had one of my favorite things tonight at Frankie's, which is essentially my neighborhood bar. They do (in season, more or less) asparagus wrapped in prosciutto and sauteed in butter and lemon and it's just wonderful. It's one of those things that is so light but satisfying as hell - due to the butter, I should think. NOTHING is better than butter. Margarine is an abomination unto the Lord and should be banned from sale. It is extremely nasty. When I'm feeling rich, I go to Gourmet Garage or Citarella or somewhere and buy myself really good bread and really expensive European butter and prosciutto and just slather butter all over the bread and top it with a scrap of prosciutto and drift off into heaven...or sometimes I go to the Amy's at the Chelsea Market (or the Bleecker Street one, conveniently located next to Murray's Cheese) and get her olive bread...oh, yeah. Good bread and butter. MMMMMmmmmmmmmm....slurp, drool.

Love, Wendy

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