† ... the journal

The Guest
Refrigerator Door

The next magnets belong to the fridge of my friend Olivia

This is from O's trip to Australia
(I have the same magnet on my fridge)



* Discussion *

What do you think about the Salvation Army situation?

Talk about it here.

Read the forum that was banned by one reader's office computer because it has "sexual content." I must be having more fun than I thought!



WHAT I'M READING...

Tipping the Velvet
by
Sarah Waters


WHAT I'M WATCHING...

Nothing--we were
visiting with family tonight


Pictures from the Pride March in SF are now up at Club Photo, as are the photos from our weekend in Santa Barbara.


That's it for today!

FIRE DRILL

13 July 2001

Boring Alert here!!! This will NOT be a scintillating entry. I have no time to even think about it, so you have been warned.

The car pulled off the freeway around about the old Nut Tree in Vacaville this evening. It was 11 p.m., a tape of The Producers had been playing since we left Petaluma an hour before, and Walt was nodding off. It was time to change drivers.

I think about all the trips we have taken over the years and all the driver switches weíve made in the middle of the night on lonely roads while the traffic whizzes by somewhere off in the distance.

In our youth, we would do dumb things like driving to LA for a party and driving home at the end of the party (nothing at all sensible like flying off to Cincinnati for the weekend to see a show we already know inside out, backwards and forwards. No--we are much more mature now!).

The worst trip I remember was back in the early 60s when we drove to LA for a New Yearís eve party. Walt still had
his old Rambler then, and we werenít married yet. The Rambler was an incredible car that would go forever on a tank of gas, but could only make it 50 miles on a quart of oil.

We drove to LA with a case of motor oil in the back seat and the ride home was so awful. We were both exhausted and we would drive until it was time to add more oil and then switch drivers. Iíll tell ya, on my legs, that car would stop at 50 miles on the dot. I wouldnít even drive another .1 mile if I could help it.

Tonight was just plain stupid. Here we are, unpacked, planning to leave the house at 4:30 in the morning to go to the airport to catch our 6 a.m. flight for Cincinnati (via Houston) and instead of staying home tonight and packing, we drove to Waltís brotherís house to see the Irish relatives, who are in town briefly.

I love these folks--Siobhan and Peter and two of their three kids, 19 year old Simon and 11 year old Zoe. Lindsay, who is between them in age, is off dancing with the ballet in Monaco.

Siobhan and Peter had been here
in September, but the kids hadnít come yet, so it was nice to see them again. The last we saw of them was in Ireland several years ago. Theyíve grown up since.

It was a lovely dinner and we thoroughly enjoyed visiting with the relatives, and seeing Waltís brother and sister-in-lawís photos of
Tomís birthday barbecue and their recent trip to New York.

But we suddenly realized it was 10 p.m. and how much we still had to do before we were even remotely ready to be leaving the house--and that we had to leave the house well before the crack of dawn.

Walt is upstairs packing and as soon as Iíve posted this, Iím going to iron a couple of dresses (shhh...donít tell Peggy) , throw them in a suitcase and call it ďpacked.Ē Iím always so horrendously disorganized for trips like this.

Itís not like weíre going to outer Mongolia. Or that weíre going to be gone for months. Itís only 4 days and Iím sure that if Iíve forgotten anything, I can easily find it in Cincinnati. The main thing is to see The Last Session, to meet some more of the people from the TLS list, and renew acquaintance with friends from the group whom we already know.

And now itís time to go iron. I hope I remember how.

(yes, this is boring. Donít forget--you were forewarned!)


One Year Ago:
A friend Indeed
(a tribute to my friend Gilbert Russak)


Some pictures from this journal
can be found at
Club Photo


<- previous | Journal home | bio | cast | archive | next ->
Bev's Home Page

Created 7/11/01 by Bev Sykes