Measured Extravagance

25 January 2003 - 9:26 p.m.

Antonia's Line was short on plot, perhaps, but with much charm and character. It reminded me both of Amelie (major-league quirkiness) and Charms for the Easy Life (central character = strong matriarch with smart daughter and book-smart granddaughter). I added (and ripped out) a few more rows to the afghan; next to me, Lynetta worked on a cross-stitch chessboard. All quite cosy and a nice break from wrangling with letterforms.

A nice aspect about being a dilettante multifaceted is that, when I'm feeling flounder-fingered at the drafting table or the keyboard, I can still cheer myself up through other activities. We don't usually breakfast together chez Mechaieh - neither of us are morning people, he's far fussier about "proper" breakfast fare than I can manage to care about at whatever hour it is [1], and I don't like spoiling the day by starting out with NPR News. This morning, though, I set the table and poured orange juice into wineglasses (even remembering to shake first) and lifted the lox out of the package, rearranging it on a plate. I sliced onion, mixed and fried pancakes from scratch, and heated the plates in the oven. It was a good antidote to yesterday's frustration and an excellent complement to the pleasures of the bedroom.

Two quotes from Hey, Mr Producer! The Musical World of Cameron Mackintosh:

"Backstage, in fifteen years Cats and its crew have used 31,875 headache pills. . ."

"It was around drink two that the impact of our meeting walloped us: we had both met, for the first time in Britain, another person equally mental about musical theatre." - Andrew Lloyd Webber

[1] I like oatmeal and Krispy Kremes and boiled eggs and other traditional fare, but I'm also known for happily launching into leftover pasta or takeout or opening a tin of smoked eel. And I can stand sweet cereal only without milk, and I don't understand why Noshville doesn't have latkes on its breakfast menu (they'll serve them upon request, but officially it's a lunch and dinner item).

Two years ago, I quoted the irrepressible Hugh Macdiarmid: "On fronts of proud abdomena unfurled...."

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