You know it’s been really cold when a high of 25°F feels warm. The temperature has been below freezing for a week. The worst is over for now and a warming trend started yesterday. The temperature is already 18°F this morning. The weather forecast calls for a high of 37°F today. Yeah!
I was invited to a dinner party on Saturday night in Park Hill. I was looking forward to the dinner after spending the week inside at home due to frigid temperatures and snow. The hosts were a local clay artist and her retired landscape-architect husband who now trades wine futures. The other guests were a gay couple who have been together for thirty-nine years and an art consultant and her husband who I had previously met through Tom and Sheila. The invitation said to bring a favorite bottle of wine and to come at six-thirty-ish. It was a fun gathering which started off with champagne and a lavish appetizer spread of prepared items from Whole Foods and Marczyk’s, a local high-end food market. The champagne was followed by prosecco which was in turn followed by the three wines brought by the guests. All of this was followed by two more bottles from the host’s wine cellar. Dinner had yet to be served. I stopped drinking after the champagne because I knew it was going to be long evening and I didn’t want to drive home on icy streets after drinking all night. Dinner was finally served at ten which consisted of roast pork, haricot verts with chestnut sauce and wild rice. Another bottle of wine was opened. A salad course was served after the main course. Dessert was a lavish selection of pastries from a local French bakery. Sauterne was served with dessert. The dinner ended with a coffee service.
It was a festive evening but at one point I was wondering if the hostess was ever going to get the dinner on the table. Cindi came up in dinner conversation and it turned out that everyone knew her. The gay guys used to buy art at the gallery Cindi used to own. It was one of those evenings that you don’t want to end because you’re having a great time. The temperature was 2°F when I drove home a little before one. It was frigidly cold but I had a smile on my face as my cabin fever had been cured.
My house needs a new roof. A new $12k roof. Another budget buster. I’ve been trying to beef up my cash reserve after depleting it to buy K’s interest in the house. I feel like I’m hit with one budget hit after another. This week I found out I’m being furloughed for two weeks at the end of the year. It’s a happy holiday wish from the beloved private equity owners of the company.
There is always someone who is going through worse times. A charity I support announced there are over 900 homeless youth in Denver. Having to pay for a new roof is insignificant when compared to being a homeless youth. I’ve decided to make a donation the homeless youth charity instead of buying presents this year. My friends don’t need gifts but the kids on the street need help.
Then there are people who don’t realize how good they have it. I often fall into this category. I ran into a friend at the gym yesterday who pulls down serious cash every year. He has multiple advanced degrees and is well respected in his industry. My friend was complaining that he wasn’t getting his $80k bonus because the firm he works for lost money this year. Raises and bonuses were cancelled. I would be upset losing a huge bonus too. I believe you have to look at other people who are in unfortunate circumstances to realize how good you have it.
I don’t want to spend money for a new roof, or go on furlough, but I’m really very fortunate to have a wonderful life and great friends.
I received a package from my mother yesterday. It contained a Provincetown sweatshirt I sent her about ten years ago. The sweatshirt, along with the box it was mailed in, smelled like cigarette smoke so I threw the whole mess outside in the rear courtyard. My mother enclosed a note explaining the sweatshirt was two big.
I find this all rather strange. My mother spent ten dollars to mail the sweatshirt back to me after holding on to it for ten years. I don’t know why she didn’t donate it to charity. How odd is this?
The sweatshirt and box are now frozen under a layer of snow that started falling last night. I’m hoping the stench of cigarette smoke will be faded by the time the snow melts. I’ll launder the sweatshirt and donate it to the charity for homeless youth.
I had a great time in Ft. Lauderdale. The trip was a whirlwind of lunches, dinners, food shopping, baking, cooking and socializing. R & H, my hosts, were married in San Francisco about a month ago. They have decided to relocate to San Francisco and have started house hunting. I’m glad I decided not to move to Ft. Lauderdale last year.
Today is World AIDS Day. I was told I had AIDS in 1984. The doctor told me I had six months to live. I’m still here twenty-nine years later. I lost a partner and a lot of friends along the way. I’m thinking about all the men I’ve known who lost the battle too early in life. I give thanks for every day I’m here even though there are days when the blues hit hard and I want to put a gun to my head. Today is not one of those days.
The Book of Mormon was the best theatrical production I’ve seen in a long time. If you like South Park you’ll love The Book of Mormon. It’s funny, bawdy, entertaining, outrageous and shocking while loaded with singing and dancing. I’ve never heard the work fuck so many times in a stage production. Google the lyrics to Hasa Diga Eebowai to get a sampling. I give it two thumbs up.
I’m off to Ft. Lauderdale tomorrow morning to spend Thanksgiving with R & H. I’ll catch you on the back side.
Fifty years ago today, I was sitting in my first grade class at Good Shepherd Catholic School. Sister Mary Paul was teaching math. The voice of Sister Mary Joseph, the ancient Mother Superior of the school, came over the intercom announcing death of President Kennedy. Sister Mary Joseph instructed the school to kneel on the cold linoleum tile floor while she recited the Rosary. That old cunt made us kneel on the hard floor instead of moving the students into the church with padded kneelers which was attached to the school. The students were sent home when Mother Superior finished the Rosary. My sister and I found our mother in living crying in front of the TV with a soggy tissue clenched firmly in one hand and a cigarette with a long ash in the other. It was a day I’ll never forget.