Never on a Sunday

And so, the holiday ends....

Today is tidy day, finish out what has to be done, pack up my belongings, and schlep back up to the crack house in the projects.

Last night, C came over from Brooklyn... with her kids gone for the summer, we finally made it to a play, something we've discussed doing together since January.

Granted, I've already seen it, but, she wanted to go, so... I used my last season ticket and went again to see In a Dark, Dark, House with her. We were seated in the second row at first...not my favourite place to sit... still, good seats. The young man next to me was thrilled to be there, he was a huge LaBute fan, and he and I started discussing the play while C went to find new seats.

It wasn't the seating, it was the man next to her who smelled as if he'd lived on the F Train platform on 6th for around three years.

We were moved back when a couple were willing to take second row seats and StinkyMan in exchange for their rear seats and clean air.

Perhaps it was knowing in advance what was going to happen that allowed me to sit back and view it from a different angle. The acting was superb... I was again gutted by the content, those crystal sharp words.... however, I was able to distance myself from it this time, and not be overwhelmed emotionally. C, like myself, was able to put the pieces of this Neil LaBute (shhh, don't say his name more than once...odd people write you really strange things) puzzle together in the first act. Walking out, we heard others discussing the play, and how they were still questioning points. One girl kept asking her companions about something that was so clear over and over to where I wanted to turn around and say, "He stole the car because....". That is the beauty of a good play, when people walk out and are still talking about it.... and that is what happened both nights I saw this work. It was the last show of the run... I'm glad I saw it again, it was the same play, different point of view. And, I still say he writes about love.

And, this time, there was food. Someone to discuss it with, which always adds to the enjoyment of a good or bad performance, and food.

Greek food.

Lovely food.

So, even though I was waiting for C at Union Square and she was at Washington Square because I had the wrong train line in my head before the show... all's well, blah blah.

The Jarhead has sent me his email address... he's on the ship now, headed for points unknown until he reaches his unknown destination. I woke up at 5A yesterday, at the exact time they were casting off.... they've already changed his return time from the beginning of December to mid January. He had called me Friday night, before they shut his phone off. We spoke for a bit, and his friends wanted to tell me they would all be safe. Oh, and they weren't in a titty bar, no m'am. They never call a Mom from a titty bar.

Nice to know that bit of information.

Here I sit, nothing to do, really. I'm sure I'll nap at some point...it is in my genetic code to do so. The tourists were out in full parade at 10A when I walked the dogs... some in heels. I don't understand doing a full day of being a tourist in heels. I don't understand wearing heels at all anymore...but, then, I don't have to if I don't want to, so, there.

I am eating what is possibly the worst muffin in the world... there are three dogs snoring.... I am babbling about nothing of any interest.


I love me my Sundays.