My dearest, six p.m., up in the aerie, painstakingly restoring computer files. But cheered from sweet message from friend in Finland, so the sun broke through the rain, so to speak. I'm okay now. And, really, I had a lovely afternoon, attended a reading of a new play by a playwright who resides here. (I started writing "local" playwright, but he isn't that, I'm sure - nothing in this ultra-well-connected region, of whom I seem to be a (comparatively - compared to lithe, indoor-sunglass-wearing size 2's I mean) corpulent ghost hovering in the margins, is "local" within a certain layer of the atmosphere here.) I really enjoyed the play. At times it was a bit tough, for me, in the sense that reminded me of when I was a child going to church, sitting in a hard pew, knowing I'd have to be there for a long while, trying to get into it but finding my mind starting to wander, trying to prevent a yawn. And by noting this, I don't mean any negative comment whatsoever on the gentleman's play - it's more a function of my restlessness. It's the first reading of this type I believe I've ever attended, where it's a panel of actors each with a thick binder of draft play in front of them, reading it out, so it is a bit of a challenge for the listener in the audience to conjure such amenities (under the circumstances, given the reading in a simple plain hall, a small converted church that seems now, judging from thumbtacked posters and vestibule bulletin-board postings, mostly to be a ballet school for young girls) the scene, lighting, sound effects (wind instrument music, choppers), actors' movements on stage and their gestures. That all said, by the end of it, and in the car coming back home as I thought about it, I was so impressed with anyone's ability to craft a full-length play (and this one, I'm sure, has legs, though still a work-in-progress, it's clearly in penultimate drafts and is full of - oh, depth and breadth). I'm being overly general - partly due to my tiredness, and partly because I don't want my local "cover" blown by mentioning specifics, and also because the subject of the play concerned - of all things - your field, though not the region you study.
My dearest, have you moved? I wonder about your reappearance, and Mr. iPhone's disappearance, though his reappearance again this morning (and no sign of those server-proxy hits from Houston or Woodstock). So often I feel this sense of unreality - why wouldn't I? Ah, whatever. My friend in Finland is sweet and real enough, though of the age that when I do the calculations, was born around the very same time that you and I were dating - and whatever sort of perimenopausal girl I am, I am simply not that sort of girl. But he's awfully sweet - heck, he at least writes email messages, which is more than I can say for - well, at least 1 or 2 others, depending on whether they're the same guy or not.
Yes, I'm babbling. I'm tired. Should go downstairs and see about boiling cauliflower. Oh, yuck. I promise a much better post tomorrow. Oh, I shouldn't promise any such thing. I'll see what happens.
Launching for now. Love you.