The outsizedness of the place was touched upon, but the strange new Guiliani effect, where everyone is preternaturally friendly and nice, was also observed. The suggestion that one would be safer in downtown Manhattan than downtown Seattle was made, a strange sad thought indeed.
Next we filmed our Tribute to Hizzoner. Alix directed, Andy filmed, we all starred. We sat around empty plates and invited him to come cook for us, hinting that in a pinch that he could serve as dinner himself, we were that hungry. Loving and appreciative congratulations were sent his way. Woodstock will be a lesser place without our beloved tupper at the helm.
We tucked into Kathleen's scrumptious squash soup and creamy yogurt dish like wild dogs, also slurping up the jicama-laced salad provided by Craig with unseemly enthusiasm. GREAT dinner, all, thanks!
Alix related Oscar's latest visit to the ER, a story that culminated in Andrew's new plan to off the great American writers of our time to clear the decks for the bestsellerdom of his memoir, which he has just completed a fourth draft of. (Congrats on that fourth draft!)
The highlight of the evening was the return of our dear Craig, back from the valley of the flu. With an opening last Friday and news he'd be on the cover of Southwest Art next month, Craig appeared both pleased and startled, and perhaps one more sudden success away from bolting into a cave or other secured area. He spoke wildly of moving to Santa Fe -- but knows he will always be a tup, regardless of where he goes.
Other topics:
- Scrum publishing, rugby, the New Zealand All Blacks and the French Cocks.
- The Incredible Hulk, a green cocktail to be served at Friday's RHH Literary series event.
- E-commerce solutions for non-profits, beta testing, and the difficulty of speaking to databases created in Exceed.
- Lovableness of Seattle as compared to Santa Fe, France, and Italy.
- Strong recommendations for the films The Darjeeling Limited and Across the Universe.
Tupper next week! At Sally's house. Jan cooks. Entree TBD. Please watch this space.
Love Jan
5 comments:
Olives. Green olives. Black olives. Little brown olives. Olive bread. With Pecans. Olives and cranberries. Olives and strongly expressed opinions. Olives in the absence of the lightness of being. Olives on the frontlines. Olives in the garden nine days old. Olives ran up the clock. Olives ran down the clock. Olives on the advisory board of Blackwater. Olives: pits, stones, and seeds. Olives a fruit. Olives a vegetable. Olives at the center of scandal. Olives the cause of a clandestine love affair. Olive celebrated my 58th birthday soon. Olives in the atmosphere, at the bottom of the pond, in the mouths of children, kidnapped by alligators, lacking a rhyme, looking for treasure, bought for a song. Olives. Olives. Olives.
Thank you.
Sincerely.
You know, I noticed those olives only at the VERY end of dinner. I LOVE olives. I see that I missed a delirious eating experience last night.
However, the rest of the evening was utterly delightful, so, it's ok.
K.
By the way, Jan, I think you're a genius reporter. This is a GREAT account of the evening! Michelle should feel as if she missed nothing--not even the squash soup!
K.
Sweetheart, did you get enough sleep last night? Or perhaps too much...?
By the way, I'm silly. I'm not cooking next week, it's thanksgiving. I'm cooking the week after.
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