Nothing More Than A Promise Fulfilled

[And the symptoms disappear as quickly as the arrive. It took me a few days to mention to John, in passing, that the nurse practitioner had changed my meds when I went in for the tonsillitis. John blew up, informed me that I needed to tell him when a change like this occurrs, and maybe the combivir is the reason I was feeling like a grey puddle of ick. It hadn't even occurred to me; I'd had such a nothing reaction to the previous course of drugs that I thought, with my usual sense of invulnerablity, that I could handle anything.]

[Stopped taking Ingredient C, stopped having the symptoms. Now I gotta call the N.P. and find out what the hell we do now. Like the Dogpoet, my numbers were so good in 2002 that I feel like...well, not that this shit is superfluous exactly, but that I have a little time to slack off. Fool?]

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[Sunday was a good, if exhausting day. Dealing with a sluggish boyfriend and renting a car, and getting up to Sonoma in time to meet Susanna. There she was, reclining magisterially in the sun on a wooden bench in front of Mission San Francisco Solano. We strolled around the Plaza, scene of so much childhood, talked and talked and saw Cassie the Camel in front of the old Mexican barracks. I know we know that three and a half years can't be encapsulated in two and a half hours, but we did our best, while John patiently waited and occasionally kibitzed.]

[That night was dinner for 10 chez les parents. Mom gets a little crazy during the local PBS station's annual auction, and this time she bought a night with one of Sonoma's newest chefs. The best course was the opener, a lobster/Dungeness crab salad with avocado, tomato, shaved fennel, and greens in a Muscat reduction dressing. Oddly, the entree included medallions of ostrich, so I've eaten that twice in two weeks. We're an informal group (what I think of as "Sonoma before the hype"), and even with our mismatched dishes and occasional ignorant input, I think chef Carlo had a pretty good time.]

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[Because I am one of those queens, I feel moved to comment on the Oscar nominations. Mexico must not have submitted Y Tu Mama Tambien as its official selection; I'm sure if I looked, I could find a reason having to do with its marvelous sexuality. It was in my top three of the year, and its one nomination is...disappointing. While I don't know if Queen Latifah's Mama Morton was Oscar caliber, those few of us who saw Living Out Loud a few years ago knew her performance in Chicago to be, in the words of Addison DeWitt, nothing more than a promise fulfilled. And I think it's great that there's an animated feature category - I'm still hankering to see Spirited Away; not so much Spirit, Stallion of the Cimarron.]

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