11 March 2011. Thick frost on everything this morning, but the day warmed quickly into the 50s. I went to the gym alone after breakfast, listened to a sermon by Pastor D on John 7 (Christ as the bread of life—good), came home, did my quiet time, and ate lunch while reading Middlemarch.
At two Lisa and I went over to the Hs’ house to help them get ready for their spring break trip to Florida. When we pulled up, Amy was outside, cleaning out their van, apparently as cheerful as ever. Inside we played Monopoly and Go Fish with Anne all afternoon. Amy went to pick Maggie and Grace up from school, and then the scramble really began. While Amy and Lisa made sandwiches for tea, I woke Jane up from her nap and sat with her, making faces while she snacked on cheese and crackers.
They were out the door by about five o’clock. The girls all hugged us as they clambered into the car; we waved them one last good-bye as we walked out of the garage, and as soon as we had left, we heard them give a cheer of excitement. Laughing, we drove home. Spring break in the air! At home Laura was packing up for her weekend trip to Chicago. We said good-bye to her, too. Lisa and I watched part of Beauty and the Beast while she worked on school and I made cards to send to Anna, Laura, Rach, and Crystal.
At a quarter to seven, Mary showed up, and the three of us drove out to Scott’s house for another readings night. It turned out to be a quiet wee neighborhood tucked away in the forest about ten minutes outside Bloomington, between Bloomington and Ellettsville, a neighborhood of small, low, cream-colored houses, all fairly new, all almost exactly the same.
Eric and Carmen were already there; Eric was making the main course tonight, but Mary had brought salad, and Lisa had baked a Bailey’s-and-chocolate cheesecake. The first wee while of such a gathering must always be awkward, I suppose, even when we all know each other fairly well. Perhaps it’s the awkwardness that comes from knowing each other—but not being total strangers, because that would lead to conventional small talk—and not being best friends, because that would make us all at ease immediately. The meal, when it came, was wonderful, though, and Mary kept us entertained by explaining to us the differences between saber, epée, and rapier fencing.
After tea we sat around the living room and had our first round of readings. Lisa warmed us up with some hilarious Shel Silverstein. Then Scott read some French prose from a 16th-century novel, and Eric read some Spanish poetry about the sea. Carmen followed that with “My Autopsy” by Michael Dickman and a Philip Larkin piece: beautiful, beautiful, eerie, visceral language. She had a perfect voice for it, too, precise, careful, but deep enough that it’s matter-of-fact, serious, as though she’s speaking to you about very important but very real things. Mary read the portion from Moby-Dick about the painting—which was fantastic. She had the drunken sailor voice down pat, and she put her whole heart, soul, and body into it, so that we were all rolling with laughter; l laughed until my face and my chest were aching. So, so funny.
When she finished reading, we had some of Lisa’s cheesecake, and then embarked upon round two. More Shel Silverstein from Lisa, some of The Siege of Krishnapur from Scott (an excellent, dark-humour sort of passage), some sea poetry from Eric, and a Saki short story from Carmen, a chilling piece about a boy and his ferret. Mary read us a children’s book about a Siamese cat who thought he was a Chihuahua. That had us all in stitches, too. As a finale, Lisa gave us some more Shel Silverstein. It was midnight before we realized it.
No comments:
Post a Comment