I like nothing more than to waste a morning … stretch, have toast and great coffee, read the paper, stare into space, blog a little, read my E mail, fire off some E mails critiquing MSNBC commentary, see Ed off sometimes to one of his volunteer efforts and OMG, it’s 11:30 and I haven’t walked.
Last night Ed and I drove over to Rum Runners at Cape Harbor, a developed community in Cape Coral on beautiful (really stunning) waterways that lead to the Gulf. We met with Terry, my former neighbor in New York, who is now organizing art fairs for an outfit based in Naples, so he gets down here now and then. We sat outside on a terrace overlooking the marina. It was lovely. And Terry is always a pleasure with his 1960s demeanor, still looking 30ish in his jeans, and laid back dash. And where, we asked, is our dear Lila, his wife? He said she was in New York, having just returned from a 10 day trip where she had gone to Paris, Milan, Amsterdam, and four other places I can’t remember. He said, frowning, she never has jet lag. I said, I’ve aged 5 years just listening to the rundown. They’ll be together a few days next week before they are both off to work in other places.
I had a highly recommended shellfish dish with pasta and lobster. I keep reminding myself not to order lobster because it is so hard to get the meat out. Ed, however, who ordered the same dish, artfully denuded his lobster claw, picked it clean. How does he do that? Mine was a mess. I was too busy talking and eating to watch him and learn something. I also had two glasses of wine and I will again remind myself that I shouldn’t have more than one because I dry out and I also forget to drink enough water to counteract the effects. Our waitress was from Long Island and we bonded over loving our Paradise, but missing New York desperately. I also shared a key lime pie with Ed, another “let’s not do that again†moment. Ed has stopped smoking and he said he is gaining weight. Not enough to look bad yet. I think he will stick with the program this time because his doctor said the magic words (aneurism acomin’).
I feel that I have to go over what we wore as well, because, after all I spent 40 years in the fashion center of the world and it dies hard. Earlier Ed was wearing cargo pants and a striped tee and I said, “Change please, you look like you are about to mow the lawn.†So just to please me, he put on tailored dark gray slacks and a navy Izod shirt and took along a seersucker blazer that suits him. He was stunning. We stopped for gas and a rather seedy-looking local woman, with cigarette dangling, checked him out when he got out of the car. When I told him, he was mortified. “It’s a good thing I was here,†I said, “to protect you.†He agreed.
I wore a knitted top, with beautiful many colored threads, with spaghetti straps and a strapless bra and used dark makeup to obscure the tan lines snaking over my shoulders. It worked! Sort of chiffon black pants that if I was in the sun you could see through, but no one knew because it was night time. And multi-colored antique looking drop earrings that picked up the colors in the top, plus little heel, shiny deep red leather sandals that I could walk in.
I took an hour’s nap when we got home (just in time to give Brunzie his medication for epilepsy) and then I was up till midnight. “Rashomon†was on – this is the Japanese cult movie about a rape related by four different witnesses. I avoided it. I saw it years ago and thought, oh good grief, let me out of here. I am a Philistine I guess because I don’t see the art in tedium.
xx, Teal