I woke up this morning and decided that what I really needed was a Cabana Boy. He would make my breakfast and bring me breakfast in bed, he would make my television work again, he would make my dishwasher work as it is not starting up. The jobs keep adding up. There is no room for a live in Cabana Boy so this will require some planning. Perhaps I can text E.H.B. and she can bring one back from China. It may be that E.H.B. is not paying roaming charges – it is so difficult getting help these days. I guess I will have to resort to calling CCC – he always has such good ideas. Oops, I called and he is not at work today, now that is a miracle, taking a day off???? Perhaps CCC would volunteer to be the Cabana Boy – he would be good at it. I do not think he can cook but he could do Take Away.
I woke up and decided to knight Hottie. From now on he will be known as Sir Richard of Hot. He has been a good and faithful servant and he is deserving of respect and I am a Queen and therefore I can knight him. As some may know – he is British so this title will have meaning. I texted him to let him know, he was quite impressed saying:” Thanks” and when I told him that he was being dubbed on Monday:
He: Sounds like a must see event.
Me: Definitely but I need a sword. Any ideas?
I guess I will go to the dollar store – I am sure someone will be around to film the coronation and it will go to Instagram. Life can be fun if you make it fun.
Thursday was an amazing day. Gail, a volunteer at the Vancouver Art Gallery urged me to overcome my prejudices and attend a tour of the blockbuster exhibit of the Japanese artist Murakami’s The Octopus Eats His Own Leg. She wisely opined that the more you know about an artist, the more likely you are to appreciate the art. I had found the art rather distasteful, garish and simplistic but this opinion was formed from a cursory visit. Gail was right = the tour guide was informative and although I am not crazy about his art I can see its appeal and appreciate the techniques he employs. Afterwards I had two long chats with strangers. A woman from Squamish was at the Gallery with her daughter and a friend – the girls had their art books and colored pencils and were duplicating the art. I congratulated her on the encouragement of their creativity. Neither she or I had been similarly encouraged although we both are creative in other ways – artists we are not. Then I met a young UClLA accountant type – he purchased some of the Murakami art with great enthusiasm. He was definitely a sweet young man – was thinking of going to law school so we had a long chat about the wisdom of that undertaking. I was impressed with his drive and intelligence.
Then it was off to the West Oak restaurant. “Iceland” (the hostess) and I planned ahead wearing our almost identical bright blue jackets – we were sort of twins. I sat at the chef’s table and was entranced by the skill and organization of the chefs. It was almost like a dance, the cooking and plating of the food. The head chef was extremely organized and had great cooperation from all the personal. I was absolutely crazy about the chef at the Rex Whistler. He went on to Harrod’s. When I visited London in December, Matthew took me back to the kitchen to say good bye to him – that was a huge privilege. Even better than sitting at the Lord and Lady’s Table. But back to the West Oak where an amazing thing happened. Two women, sitting at a crowded table said: “Alexis!”
They were strangers to me (although one lives in my building and we met in the elevator).
They: We read your blog every day.
Me: OH MY GOD! I am going to cry!
I think I did. It is impossible to describe the feeling – it is like being seen. I was never seen by my parents and that is a blow that leaves a terrible scar. I also have had a tendency to pick men to whom I am invisible. So to receive an accolade from these two women is a most precious gift. A photo of the three of us will be attached to this blog.
I am reading Timeless, penned by Lucinda Franks. She describes the effects of inconsistent mothering – she felt like a person “balanced on a precipice, doomed to be unsure when I woke up in the morning whether I would feel like the confident successful woman or the dorky kid ho had something wrong with her. In facts both personalities were inside me: the outer bravado of a celebrated journalist and the meekness and self-doubt of a child.” (pg. 31) That is me unfortunately – so to be recognized is huge. I do know from my statistics that people read this thing but to talk to readers is altogether different.
Then it was back to VAG to meet an employee to go out for drinks and to learn about some of the inner workings of that institution and muse upon egos, careerism and incompetence. What a day!
