I am now back in bed. It is a typical Vancouver day – grey and dismal. I did rise and shine, read my emails and Instagrams. tidied up the apartment. I even posted a video on Instagram but my head was cut off – so I did it again, this time with my head. I went to fax stuff at Staples but but found since I was missing something so came back to the apartment to fetch it. But when I got here, the bed looked most inviting. Squeezed in a great conversation with a man in Starbucks where those egg bites filled my tummy. The topic of conversation was how Vancouver is utterly crazy and a terrible place to live. Multitudes of people agree with me. It is such a relief to see that it isn’t just me. I will have coffee on Sunday with a another man who agrees and is an author, I quite look forward to it.
Faithful readers will discern that my daily blogging habit has wanted. There are hordes of topics to discuss but living my life has become more important than writing about it. I am making more connections with people but not sure what came first – the chicken or the egg dilemma.as it began, it seems, during the week of non blogging. I reached out, others reached back and a solid foundation was formed. Plans for future trips were solidified. Instagram habits have intensified and there are joys of instantaneous feed back. This morning a heartening message:
She: Thank you so much for making the nail salon so much fun
Me: You are welcome! Thank you for being there.
We are referring to our hours at the Fingertip Nail Salon – for me it was a pedicure and a manicure and it was somewhat chaotic as some workers were sick. My wonderful Amy was shocked beyond belief because I was actually calm and patient being s there for almost four hours. My toes posted on Instagram. They are black with gold sparkles and match my bathing suit. I am MOST color coordinated. Afterwards it was off to India Bistro where I had a memorable conversation with the owner and her son. She is a fine example of motherhood – sacrificing for her children while simultaneously expecting the very best from them. Her daughter is becoming a pediatrician; her son an engineer. A shining example of mothering at its best. It is, unfortunately, a rarity in these parts where rude children reign supreme, expecting the best while behaving the worst. It is the parenting that causes the problem, one has to have sympathy for the children who are ill equipped to forge successful lives. One should not have children if not prepared to make sacrifices for them. It is easy for me to talk – I did not have any, on purpose. Increasing numbers of young women seem to be making that choice. I am proud of them and tell them so.
An email thread was being exchanged between high school friend (CPI and yours truly. She, incidentally is childless. A true tale was being told wherein two men were competing for my hand (or some part of me). It resembled Othello where one man was Pale Othello and the other Iago. At the time the tale was told to a man well versed in the theatre who laughingly said I was scarcely the helpless Desdemona. But what Shakespearian heroine did I resemble? That question was posed to CPI and she suggested Rosalind. I ran that by another man well versed in theatre:
He: Hello alexis, Rosalind is one of the great heroines , sharp, quick and witty . Able to stand up for her sex to all men ( and women) . One of the unusual comedies in that it is actually quite humorous. So yes , but of course Portia might be just as good in terms of her professional approach coupled to taste for blood . particularly men’s blood.
Me: But silly me forgets in which play Rosalind appears.
He: Hello Alexis,As you like it( that’s the name of the play, not other things)
The ending of my private Othello is much cheerier. In the original Othello everyone dies. In mine Iago goes to New York, Pale Othello is apparently alive, living again in Vancouver and I am doing quite well, thank you very much.
Yesterday was a marvelous day. Tracey treated me to the Titanic, the Artifact Exhibition in faraway Richmond. It was SUCH a great experience, priceless. Attendees were provided with a boarding pass of a real live passenger on the Titanic on that fateful voyage. I was Olive, a first class passenger who was in Europe recovering from her impending divorce. She was traveling with her mother, a school friend and her dog. As I say in my Instagram video it was a match as I was divorced three times but NEVER would I be traveling with a dog. At the end of the exhibit there was a passenger list showing who lived and who did not. I am happy to report that Olive lived but I do not know about the dog. Afterwards in the gift shop I bought a black and white picture of Tracey and I and a tea pot that was patterned after the first class passenger’s tea service.
What made the experience more engrossing was that I met Palmer Valentine while in London. He authored a book on the Titanic based on the experiences of his great uncle who was the only officer that survived. Valentine’s theory was that it was an insurance scam but a recent book obtained at the Vancouver Public Library threw cold water on his theory. It was interesting to learn that people died of hypothermia as the water was so cold – the exhibit had a ‘glacier’ you could touch and feel the cold. The exhibit was a most moving experience. A brilliant man said in an email:
He: Titanic is a world event which has echoes in most societies; hubris, heroism and hysteria; who could ask for more.
Me: I will make hubris the word of the day.
Hubris, a noun, the hubris among economists was shaken: arrogance, conceit, haughtiness, hauteur, pride, self-importance, egotism, pomposity, superciliousness, superiority; informal big-headedness, cockiness. ANTONYMS humility.
After the exhibit Tracey and I went to lunch at Earl’s where we obtained great service from our waiter Lucca. We had a wonderful time together and I will remember it my whole life. The photo is me, masquerading as Olive, on the Titanic.