A DATE WITH YOURSELF

     It's taken you the better part of five decades to appreciate fully your own company.  You've been lunching by yourself for years, even dining, going to the movies.  But there was always a bit of a regret, a feeling of being left out of the party.  Now, finally, you have realized the joy of solitude.  The freedom of doing whatever you want, whenever you want it.  

     This Monday you go to the Art Institute of Chicago to see the Picasso exhibit.  But first you must eat lunch.  The cafeteria is not crowded; the museum is not crowded.  The joys of Mondays.  You order couscous salad, coffee, and a parfait before sitting down in the back to read your book and do the NYT crossword puzzle.  After a while you go up to see Picasso's drawings, paintings, ceramics, whatnot.  Too many art works to absorb.  The famous ones you've seen before.  You walk through the galleries and stop in front of the portrait of Leonid Massine.  Why?  Because you know his daughter and son-in-law.  Amazing, ain't it?  Talk about small world.  Massine was a famous dancer and choreographer of the Ballet Russes, worked with Diaghilev, and Picasso was his friend.  His son-in-law is a colleague and friend of David's.  A poster dealer who lives in New York.  After a while the sensory overload forces you to seek refuge in the Member's Lounge.  You sit in a plush orange sofa and read, check email (there is Wi-Fi!), rest - your feet under you (without shoes of course).  The lounge is also mercifully not crowded.  After another while you go out the Modern Wing way and see the "They Seek a City" exhibit.  

     You love this exhibit.  Such amazing works about the migrations to Chicago from the early 20th century.  A painting by Emil Armin calls your attention.  That's your friend's Mike Armin's uncle.  Another small world moment.  Works by Motley, Cattlet, Ellison, Rivera, so many more.  You must tell everyone about it.  You must also come back to look again, slowly, and absorb it.  At the gift shop you purchase a long-needed umbrella; then make your way to the Macy's Flower Show.

     

     Pictures speak better (and louder and more colorfully) than words.  You love the smell of the hydrangeas, bougainvilleas, bromeliads, jasmines, aloe, neon pothos, cardamom, oleander, and so many many more flowers and plants.  The Indian music adds a sense of calm; the entire place tells you "come, sit, relax, close your eyes and let go."  You promise to go back again before it's taken away.  After, you sit in the small, yellow cafe next door and read some more, enjoy the solitude.  

     What a day you've had!  The best date in a long time.  And it was just with yourself.  The best company ever.

SO THERE DOCTORS!

Shows you how much doctors know.  Jane Brody in The New York Times Science Section today says that caffeine is good for you.

Studies show that people that drink coffee live longer, blah blah blah.  Read the article and find out.

I knew it!

Any comments?

A WEEK LATER: At home

What a difference a week makes!  Last Sunday morning I was lying in the cardio obs waiting for my breakfast (apparently they forgot I was there) and wishing to be let free.  Hadn't slept much with all the noise and lights and interruptions every hour to take my blood pressure or check my temperature or give some pill.  Exhausted and hungry I waited for the verdict until, finally, after a few complaints they brought me scrambled eggs with potatoes and fruit and yogurt and herb tea.  I ate the food and the fruit and drank water.  Coffee?  No coffee.  Eventually two cardiologists came, listened to my heart and whatnot, and pronounced me "ready to go home,"  "no need for more tests."  Yipee! 

Today I sit on my deck reading the Sunday Times and drinking coffee (yes, half a cup diluted with hot water and some milk) (my internist said it's ok to drink one cup a day: "everything in moderation" is his motto).  I eat berries with cereal and cottage cheese later and unpack a few boxes from the massive packing David had to do while I was away in Europe.  Everything was put away.  I mean everything from the living-room/dining-room/kitchen.  Now, with beautifully blonde floors we put stuff back.  But we downsize.  We've come to enjoy the minimalist look.  Few pictures on the mantel.  Few posters on the walls.  Virtually no knick-knacks anywhere.  Clean and spacious. 

At first I was opposed to storing all those dear photos of grandchildren, grandmothers, weddings, travels.  I wanted my tiny bottles and tiny cups collections from around the world.  Now, however, I've come to enjoy the quiet of empty walls and shelves and windowsills.  Blank spaces where I can rest my eyes and my mind, where I can daydream and not be assaulted by colors and images.  Burnham was right: "Less is more."  (Did he say that?  I think so). (Or was it Mies?).  (Someone inform me please.) 

I am enjoying the new emptiness.  An emptiness that allows for mindful pondering.  A tabula rasa ready for new ideas and projects.  And I am enjoying being at home, feeling well, ready to write and read and organize.  What will I write next Sunday? 

Oh yeah! I'll be at The Clearing in Elison Bay, Wisconsin.  There should be lots of things to write about.  As long as I'm healthy...