Yesterday, I wrote that, as soon as I secured a copy of it, I would post a picture from our family burger feed on Sunday featuring Debbie, Paul, Christy, Carol, Zoe, and me wearing face coverings Debbie sewed. The picture is at the bottom of today's post.
1. After a detour to a story involving, primarily, Mr. George and the greedy Grandfather Smallweed, Bleak House once again picked up the story of Esther's illness from a highly contagious virus. Dickens writes an extended and insightful passage describing Esther's weeks of quarantine, how the quarantine affects her psychologically, her very slow recovery, and her gradual reunion with those she loves and who care deeply for her as her health improves.
2. We've been having some new things delivered to the house lately, including a table our Vizio can rest on in the living room. Today Debbie assembled the table. Our television no longer sits on a cardboard box. It meant giving up the dorm room look -- or the look of my apartment on Colfax Road in Spokane in 1982. Consequently, cardboard boxes, as well as some other recyclables, cluttered the garage more than I like, so I made a quick trip to the recycling bin across from the hospital and to the transfer station east of town and now our garage is a little more sleek again.
3. I put some golden raisins in the bottom of a cocktail glass, poured ice over them, added a blend of Meyer's dark rum and E & J brandy, and settled in my chair in the Vizio room for the next of Bill Davie's Tuesday night live hour long concerts from the second level of his and Diane's townhouse -- known as the Treehouse.
I have tuned in to all eight concerts. I've decided not to send Bill requests. I like thinking of songs I'd like to hear and -- who knows why? -- when Bill plays songs I wish for in my imagination, it gives me a thrill beyond having him play any explicit request. For eight weeks, I've been hoping Bill would play "King of the Art" from his Phobia Robes album and tonight he did. After the concert ended, I joined Debbie in the living room, having refreshed my rum/brandy/golden raisin cocktail. I was unconsciously staring out the window and smiling. Debbie asked me, "What are you smiling about?" I snapped out of my reverie and told her that I was thinking about Bill's song, "King of the Art". I explained the story behind the song -- Bill getting knocked off an open mic by a self-absorbed fellow performer --, but I was also smiling because the song took me back to Bill performing a couple of house concerts at my place in Eugene (pre-Debbie) and, whether he played "King of the Art" or not, in my memory he did and tonight he played another of my favorite songs from that time around, oh, 1994-96, called "Radio On" and I thought of how, while Bill played in the living room at 940 Madison, I slipped into the kitchen, acting like, as host, I was getting food and drinks straightened out, but I really slipped out of sight to dance alone in front of the kitchen sink, reveling in the delight of Bill's songs.
Here's another limerick by Stu:
Remember when “Boone’s” made a wine?
Or “Green Springs” itself tasted fine.
Or “Mad Dog” needs no glass,
Take a swig and then pass.
Early memories of fruit of the vine.
The thing I like most about this picture is that we didn't plan for it to look the way it does -- several people who've seen it think it looks like an album cover. Christy wanted a picture of us wearing masks Debbie sewed. Zoe set the timer on the camera. Paul slid to the floor. Zoe stood near where she'd been sitting. The rest of us stayed in place and we accidentally ended up with this great picture. It was a moment of serendipity and good luck.
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