If you don’t do your research before you see Richard Maxwell’s People Without History, you’ll have the same response that most of the audience did on the night I saw it: “What was that play actually about?”
You can’t really deduce the setting or meaning from just watching the play, so reading about it beforehand achieves a new level of importance. The play is ostensibly set during the 15th century Battle of Shrewsbury, but it has a much more anonymous and timeless feel. The Battle of Shrewsbury is the linchpin of Shakespeare’s Henry IV Part I, which Maxwell directed at BAM five years ago. Soldiers Owain, Mendace and Rhobert march their prisoners Blunt and Sheriff to a makeshift prison after a devastating battle. They try to piece together their memories of the battle, but they’ve either forgotten or suppressed most everything. Enter Alice, a healer, who cannot heal what ails these men.
But from simply viewing the play, all you know is that these men, dressed in chain mail and red long johns, have just been through a battle of some sort, that some of them are prisoners, and that their speech and syntax resembles that of PTSD sufferers. The language is not 15th century English, French or Welsh, it’s a stunted version of modern American English (typical for Maxwell’s plays). There are no references to landmarks, historical personages, the time frame, or anything else that might ground this play in the concrete. In a sense, it’s a strangely accurate way of portraying what 15th century Englishman must have felt like after a battle—unmoored, lost, lacking basic information like whether they even won or lost, and too tired to care. Lara Furniss’s design, consisting of three wheeled scrims that serve alternately as backdrops and prison walls, highlight the physical and spiritual barrenness at the center of this play. The small cast exhibits an oddly moving empathy for their characters; their collective humanity is what keeps this from being a play about automatons.
Richard Maxwell (Caveman, Boxing 2000) is known for his brief, atonal plays, usually about the dead, numbed center of everyday life, about a Beckettian existential despair. (In fact, the soldiers’ endless querying and emotional detachment is very Waiting for Godot.) People Without History fits neatly into the Maxwell oeuvre, albeit in a historical context. It’s best not to get too caught up in the actions or the meaning of the play, because you’ll leave feeling slightly confused and empty. Instead, enjoy the subtle arrhythmic poetry of Maxwell’s dialogue, the centerpiece of all his plays.
Written by Richard Maxwell
Directed by Brian Mendes
With Tory Vasquez (Alice), Rafael Sanchez (Anonymous), Bob Feldman (Blunt), Tom King (Owain), Alex Delinois (Sheriff), Jim Fletcher (Rhobert) and Pete Simpson (Mendace)
Design: Lara Furniss
Running Time: 90 minutes with no intermission
New York City Players at The Performing Garage, 33 Wooster Street; 212-479-0808
Tickets $20
Thursday through Sunday, 8 pm
March 19 – April 5, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Oxtail ragu
This weekend I spent most of Sunday cooking, because I could and because I needed the release. Cooking is one of the few activities that unilaterally takes me out of my brain; banging around in the kitchen for a few hours is relaxing because I can only think about what it is that I'm doing. Everything else just falls away.
So in an ode to what I hope are the last gasps of winter, I made an oxtail ragu. It was sort of an on-the-fly recipe; first I seared the oxtails on all sides, then took those out and added some really nice, really thick chopped bacon. Then I added onions, garlic, celery and carrots; deglazed that with some white wine (Yellowtail Chardonnay, because I was trying to get rid of it), put the oxtails back in, added two large cans of fire-roasted whole tomatoes, most of a can of leftover tomato sauce, bay leaves, and assorted spices. Oh, and some pork broth. After letting it simmer down for about 4 hours, I took the oxtails out, let them cool, then shredded the meat off the bone and added it back in.
My original plan was for gnocchi; but for some reason, they fell apart in the boiling stage. So I threw a box of pasta into the ragu instead.
So in an ode to what I hope are the last gasps of winter, I made an oxtail ragu. It was sort of an on-the-fly recipe; first I seared the oxtails on all sides, then took those out and added some really nice, really thick chopped bacon. Then I added onions, garlic, celery and carrots; deglazed that with some white wine (Yellowtail Chardonnay, because I was trying to get rid of it), put the oxtails back in, added two large cans of fire-roasted whole tomatoes, most of a can of leftover tomato sauce, bay leaves, and assorted spices. Oh, and some pork broth. After letting it simmer down for about 4 hours, I took the oxtails out, let them cool, then shredded the meat off the bone and added it back in.
My original plan was for gnocchi; but for some reason, they fell apart in the boiling stage. So I threw a box of pasta into the ragu instead.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Pinot Noir "Dance Off" at Cru
Last night was the much-anticipated pinot noir tasting at Cru. I can definitively say that I got my $295 worth. Naturally, the wine I liked best was the most expensive one, at $400 a bottle. Good taste is a curse.
It was a full five-course seated meal (with Krug grand cru champagne to start), with four different wines at each course, tasted blind--one from Copain (2006), one other California cult pinot noir, and two Burgundy premier crus (2002). Cru's grand sommelier and Wells Guthrie, the winemaker for Copain in Sonoma Valley, hosted the evening. They were tasting blind as well, and the comments after each course got pretty lively. The crowd was about what I expected--mostly male, mostly older, mostly wine snobs. Those that weren't professional wine geeks were lawyers or i-bankers. Compared to these people, I knew absolutely nothing about wine. And trust me, when I declared my exposure to French wines had been limited and that really I actually liked the California wines better, I got The Look. You know, the "I can't believe you're so uneducated and low-class as to admit that in public" look. Honestly, I didn't care. I got just as happily drunk as everyone else, and my favorite wine of the evening ended up being everyone's favorite wine of the evening, so no harm no foul.
I would have happily drunk a bottle of any of the wines, but it was interesting to compare them against each other and against the food. The ones that were best to drink alone, the ones that went best with the foie gras/lobster/cheese/whatever, the ones that opened up right away and the ones that took longer to open. My tasting notes got rather more prosaic the more wine I drank ("Awesome!!!").
The full menu, with wines tasted and my own tasting notes after each, was:
Amuse Bouche: Foie Gras
LOBSTER
Red Wine Braised Fennel / Brioche Foam / Pistachio
A1. Chambolle Musigny Amoureuses Mugnier 2002 (licorice)
A2. Copain Pinot Noir Kiser Bas 2006 (hints of strawberry)
A3. Aubert Pinot Noir Reuling 2005 (went surprising well with lobster)
A4. Chambolle Musigny Cras Roumier, G. 2002 (blueberry)
GNOCCHI
Oxtail Sauce / Smoked Pecorino / Truffle Butter
B1. Volnay Mitans Montille 2002
B2. Marcassin Pinot Noir Marcassin 2002 (big)
B3. Copain Pinot Noir Wentzel 2006 (big, spicier)
B4. Volnay Clos des Chenes Lafarge 2002
DUCK BREAST
Sunchoke / Farro / Arugula
C1. Copain Pinot Noir Monument Tree 2006 (hints of cherry)
C2. Gevrey Chambertin Clos St Jacques Rousseau 2002 (yum, yum, yum)
C3. Gevrey Chambertin Corbeaux Bachelet 2002 (smoky)
C4. Michael, P. Pinot Noir Moulin Rouge 2004 (tasted like bourbon)
LAMB LOIN
Eggplant / Sweetbreads / Preserved Lemon
D1. Kosta Browne Pinot Noir Russian River 2006
D2. Copain Pinot Noir Kiser Haut 2006 (fruity)
D3. Vusne Romanee Malconsorts Cathiard 2002 (best with cheese)
D4. Vosne Romanee Brulees Engel 2002
CHEESE
Bolded wines were my faves. My palate is decidedly "New World"; I like the dense, jammy fruit bombs that California and Australia do in spades, but which wine snobs tend to deride as lacking in finesse and structure. French and Old World European wines have great structure, but can taste thin and timid. The Gevrey Chambertin Clos St Jacques was the crowd favorite, and my top pick of the night; it bridged the Old and New Worlds nicely--it had depth and polish, but plenty of fruit. It was lush, fruity, aromatic, and it just kept opening up. Unfortunately it retails for about $400--when you can find it. The Copains run about $60 a bottle. I'm starting a "Great Wines I Must Buy and Drink Someday" list, and the Clos St Jacques goes on it. Also on there are Chateau Valandraud, Penfolds Grange, Joseph Phelps Insignia, Chateau Y'quem, most of the wines I drank in Italy, and other $100+ bottles.
It was a full five-course seated meal (with Krug grand cru champagne to start), with four different wines at each course, tasted blind--one from Copain (2006), one other California cult pinot noir, and two Burgundy premier crus (2002). Cru's grand sommelier and Wells Guthrie, the winemaker for Copain in Sonoma Valley, hosted the evening. They were tasting blind as well, and the comments after each course got pretty lively. The crowd was about what I expected--mostly male, mostly older, mostly wine snobs. Those that weren't professional wine geeks were lawyers or i-bankers. Compared to these people, I knew absolutely nothing about wine. And trust me, when I declared my exposure to French wines had been limited and that really I actually liked the California wines better, I got The Look. You know, the "I can't believe you're so uneducated and low-class as to admit that in public" look. Honestly, I didn't care. I got just as happily drunk as everyone else, and my favorite wine of the evening ended up being everyone's favorite wine of the evening, so no harm no foul.
I would have happily drunk a bottle of any of the wines, but it was interesting to compare them against each other and against the food. The ones that were best to drink alone, the ones that went best with the foie gras/lobster/cheese/whatever, the ones that opened up right away and the ones that took longer to open. My tasting notes got rather more prosaic the more wine I drank ("Awesome!!!").
The full menu, with wines tasted and my own tasting notes after each, was:
Amuse Bouche: Foie Gras
LOBSTER
Red Wine Braised Fennel / Brioche Foam / Pistachio
A1. Chambolle Musigny Amoureuses Mugnier 2002 (licorice)
A2. Copain Pinot Noir Kiser Bas 2006 (hints of strawberry)
A3. Aubert Pinot Noir Reuling 2005 (went surprising well with lobster)
A4. Chambolle Musigny Cras Roumier, G. 2002 (blueberry)
GNOCCHI
Oxtail Sauce / Smoked Pecorino / Truffle Butter
B1. Volnay Mitans Montille 2002
B2. Marcassin Pinot Noir Marcassin 2002 (big)
B3. Copain Pinot Noir Wentzel 2006 (big, spicier)
B4. Volnay Clos des Chenes Lafarge 2002
DUCK BREAST
Sunchoke / Farro / Arugula
C1. Copain Pinot Noir Monument Tree 2006 (hints of cherry)
C2. Gevrey Chambertin Clos St Jacques Rousseau 2002 (yum, yum, yum)
C3. Gevrey Chambertin Corbeaux Bachelet 2002 (smoky)
C4. Michael, P. Pinot Noir Moulin Rouge 2004 (tasted like bourbon)
LAMB LOIN
Eggplant / Sweetbreads / Preserved Lemon
D1. Kosta Browne Pinot Noir Russian River 2006
D2. Copain Pinot Noir Kiser Haut 2006 (fruity)
D3. Vusne Romanee Malconsorts Cathiard 2002 (best with cheese)
D4. Vosne Romanee Brulees Engel 2002
CHEESE
Bolded wines were my faves. My palate is decidedly "New World"; I like the dense, jammy fruit bombs that California and Australia do in spades, but which wine snobs tend to deride as lacking in finesse and structure. French and Old World European wines have great structure, but can taste thin and timid. The Gevrey Chambertin Clos St Jacques was the crowd favorite, and my top pick of the night; it bridged the Old and New Worlds nicely--it had depth and polish, but plenty of fruit. It was lush, fruity, aromatic, and it just kept opening up. Unfortunately it retails for about $400--when you can find it. The Copains run about $60 a bottle. I'm starting a "Great Wines I Must Buy and Drink Someday" list, and the Clos St Jacques goes on it. Also on there are Chateau Valandraud, Penfolds Grange, Joseph Phelps Insignia, Chateau Y'quem, most of the wines I drank in Italy, and other $100+ bottles.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Theatre review: 1984
“They’ll shoot me I don’t care down with Big Brother. Thoughtcrime does not entail death: thoughtcrime is death.”
--Winston Smith
1984 has been turned into a play a number of times, and at least once into a movie. I’m pretty sure this is the first production of it I’ve seen, although several years ago I reviewed Animal Farm as part of The Orwell Project. Godlight Theatre Company’s production of 1984 is best when it’s simplest. The chemistry between Winston and Julia in their love scenes and Winston’s brutal interrogation and subsequent betrayal are the core of this adaptation of Orwell’s famous novel. Unfortunately, the rest of the piece lags, bogged down by too many actors, scenes and sound effects.
I almost wish they’d skipped the first part of the story; 1984 seems so ubiquitous by now, it’s hard to imagine there are people who need the backstory. Winston Smith is Joe Average, an Everyman trapped in a soulless dystopian future. Freedom is Slavery, Ignorance is Strength run the slogans. Human emotion has been almost crushed out of existence, but Winston is determined to harbor some small shred of humanity. He begins an illicit love affair, starts a diary, tries to seek out like-minded citizens who also hate Big Brother. Unfortunately, his efforts come to a vicious and sudden stop; the authorities arrest him and, not satisfied with mere torture, are determined to completely reprogram his traitorous brain.
The production, while visually appealing, is almost too crowded for the tiny space at 59E59. The four women, who play the omnipresent Telescreens (used to spy on the populace), move around the playing square and station themselves at the four corners, thereby breaking the stage’s continuity. An actual screen would have more effective. There are short scenes to introduce various secondary characters, which break up the central Winston/Julia arc, and the lighting and sound effects—while innovative and completely in tune with the spirit of the play—often overpower the human element. An apt metaphor, I realize, but still distracting.
Again, the piece is best when it’s simplest. When the production is stripped of the extra people, the extra effects, and it’s just two people in a cramped space, attempting to connect on any human level—well, that’s the metaphor that counts. Gregory Konow as Winston and Enid Cortes as Julia have a simple and lovely chemistry onstage. Dustin Olsen as O’Brien is the other standout; his torture scene with Winston is far more effective, and powerful, than all the narrative and backstory leading up to it. In fact, the message of the novel and the play can be derived from that one scene alone. Torture scenes are obviously difficult, especially now, with all the talk of waterboarding in the news. But this particular torture scene is well-balanced; emotionally compelling without being graphic. The two men never even touch.
I realize cutting the backstory from a play that runs 85 minutes is a little extreme. But the directorial business became too distracting during the narrative scenes. Too many characters, too much of an effort to compress a lot of information into the smallest possible amount of time. But these are small quibbles for what is ultimately an accurate rendering of the novel’s spirit.
Based on the novel by George Orwell
Adapted by Alan Lyddiard
Directed by Joe Tantalo
With Gregory Konow (Winston Smith), Dustin Olson (O’Brien), Enid Cortes (Julia), Aaron Paternoster (Syme), Nick Pagliano (Parsons), Michael Tranzilli (Charrington), Michael Shimkin (Goldstein), and Deanna McGovern, Katherine Boynton, Sammy Tunis and Scarlett Thiele as the Telescreens
Original Music and Sound Design: Andrew Recinos
Production Design: Maruti Evans
Choreographer: Hachi Yu
Running Time: 85 minutes with no intermission
Godlight Theatre Company, 59E59, 59 East 59th Street; 212-279-4200
Tickets $25
Tuesday 7:30 pm, Wednesday through Friday at 8:30 pm, Saturday 2:30 and 8:30 pm, Sunday 3:30 pm
March 13 – April 19, 2009
--Winston Smith
1984 has been turned into a play a number of times, and at least once into a movie. I’m pretty sure this is the first production of it I’ve seen, although several years ago I reviewed Animal Farm as part of The Orwell Project. Godlight Theatre Company’s production of 1984 is best when it’s simplest. The chemistry between Winston and Julia in their love scenes and Winston’s brutal interrogation and subsequent betrayal are the core of this adaptation of Orwell’s famous novel. Unfortunately, the rest of the piece lags, bogged down by too many actors, scenes and sound effects.
I almost wish they’d skipped the first part of the story; 1984 seems so ubiquitous by now, it’s hard to imagine there are people who need the backstory. Winston Smith is Joe Average, an Everyman trapped in a soulless dystopian future. Freedom is Slavery, Ignorance is Strength run the slogans. Human emotion has been almost crushed out of existence, but Winston is determined to harbor some small shred of humanity. He begins an illicit love affair, starts a diary, tries to seek out like-minded citizens who also hate Big Brother. Unfortunately, his efforts come to a vicious and sudden stop; the authorities arrest him and, not satisfied with mere torture, are determined to completely reprogram his traitorous brain.
The production, while visually appealing, is almost too crowded for the tiny space at 59E59. The four women, who play the omnipresent Telescreens (used to spy on the populace), move around the playing square and station themselves at the four corners, thereby breaking the stage’s continuity. An actual screen would have more effective. There are short scenes to introduce various secondary characters, which break up the central Winston/Julia arc, and the lighting and sound effects—while innovative and completely in tune with the spirit of the play—often overpower the human element. An apt metaphor, I realize, but still distracting.
Again, the piece is best when it’s simplest. When the production is stripped of the extra people, the extra effects, and it’s just two people in a cramped space, attempting to connect on any human level—well, that’s the metaphor that counts. Gregory Konow as Winston and Enid Cortes as Julia have a simple and lovely chemistry onstage. Dustin Olsen as O’Brien is the other standout; his torture scene with Winston is far more effective, and powerful, than all the narrative and backstory leading up to it. In fact, the message of the novel and the play can be derived from that one scene alone. Torture scenes are obviously difficult, especially now, with all the talk of waterboarding in the news. But this particular torture scene is well-balanced; emotionally compelling without being graphic. The two men never even touch.
I realize cutting the backstory from a play that runs 85 minutes is a little extreme. But the directorial business became too distracting during the narrative scenes. Too many characters, too much of an effort to compress a lot of information into the smallest possible amount of time. But these are small quibbles for what is ultimately an accurate rendering of the novel’s spirit.
Based on the novel by George Orwell
Adapted by Alan Lyddiard
Directed by Joe Tantalo
With Gregory Konow (Winston Smith), Dustin Olson (O’Brien), Enid Cortes (Julia), Aaron Paternoster (Syme), Nick Pagliano (Parsons), Michael Tranzilli (Charrington), Michael Shimkin (Goldstein), and Deanna McGovern, Katherine Boynton, Sammy Tunis and Scarlett Thiele as the Telescreens
Original Music and Sound Design: Andrew Recinos
Production Design: Maruti Evans
Choreographer: Hachi Yu
Running Time: 85 minutes with no intermission
Godlight Theatre Company, 59E59, 59 East 59th Street; 212-279-4200
Tickets $25
Tuesday 7:30 pm, Wednesday through Friday at 8:30 pm, Saturday 2:30 and 8:30 pm, Sunday 3:30 pm
March 13 – April 19, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Theatre review: Rambo Solo
You don’t have to be a fan of the Rambo movies or of Sylvester Stallone to enjoy Rambo Solo, but it certainly helps.
Rambo Solo is a one-man homage to Rambo: First Blood, the movie adaptation of the pulp novel starring Stallone. You never knew there was a novel version, did you? Neither did Zachary Oberzan’s character, until he fell in love with the movie as an eleven-year-old and subsequently discovered the paperback in his local grocery store. He promptly fell in love with it, beginning a life-long obsession with the story.
Oberzan describes the events of the book, as compared to the events and depictions in the movie, in an eerily accurate Stallone impression. Backing him are three separate movie screens, each showing a very slightly different filming of Oberzan relaying the same words and actions in his 220-square-foot Manhattan loft studio. Most of the charm in this piece derives from the dichotomy between live Oberzan and filmed Oberzan (times three); each movie version has him with slightly different facial hair, with slightly different movements, with slightly different timing; turning on a light, for example, might have a one-second delay across the three screens. To keep up with the various home movies, he takes his cues from an earpiece.
It’s a literal blow-by-blow retelling of the story, complete with many vacant pauses—the “uh”s and “um”s and “you know”s are some of the funniest moments, as you can almost see Oberzan’s fanatic fan brain whirring along at high speed, often getting ahead of his tongue. Only a true fanatic would find value in telling us the entire story of Rambo, and his fan love is evident and abundant. Overall, it’s whimsical, with several moments of unrestrained laughter. It does drag a bit between the laugh-out-loud sections. The best part came at the very end, with a fake movie trailer for Oberzan’s very real movie homage, entitled Flooding With Love for the Kid (taken from the last line of the book)—DVDs are available after the show for $10. In the film, he plays all the characters, complete with costumes and fake moustaches, and shoots the entire story again within the confines of his 220-square-foot studio—a sort of extended version of the one-man show. Only, you know, not a soliloquy.
Like most plays, it would be better if it were shorter. Brevity is the soul of wit, after all, and Oberzan’s doofy characterization begins to wear thin after the first hour. At this point, a shared enthusiasm for Rambo would come in handy. The seating is not the most comfortable, either—audience seating for this is on pillows, scattered across a thick shag rug (a few chairs are available if needed), so dress appropriately. But Peter Nigrini’s design and video are first-rate, as are co-directors Pavol Liska and Kelly Copper, and SoHo Rep’s familiar layout has been completely turned around in a very amusing way. Nature Theater of Oklahoma is one of New York’s hottest avant-garde troupes, and this is a one-of-a-kind show—and believe me, that phrase is hard to come by in New York theater.
Conceived and directed by Pavol Liska and Kelly Copper
Featuring Zachary Oberzan
Design and Video: Peter Nigrini
Running Time: 85 minutes with no intermission
SoHo Rep, 46 Walker Street; 212-352-3101
Tickets $25
Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday at 7:30 pm; no performance on Sunday, March 22
March 19 – April 12, 2009
Rambo Solo is a one-man homage to Rambo: First Blood, the movie adaptation of the pulp novel starring Stallone. You never knew there was a novel version, did you? Neither did Zachary Oberzan’s character, until he fell in love with the movie as an eleven-year-old and subsequently discovered the paperback in his local grocery store. He promptly fell in love with it, beginning a life-long obsession with the story.
Oberzan describes the events of the book, as compared to the events and depictions in the movie, in an eerily accurate Stallone impression. Backing him are three separate movie screens, each showing a very slightly different filming of Oberzan relaying the same words and actions in his 220-square-foot Manhattan loft studio. Most of the charm in this piece derives from the dichotomy between live Oberzan and filmed Oberzan (times three); each movie version has him with slightly different facial hair, with slightly different movements, with slightly different timing; turning on a light, for example, might have a one-second delay across the three screens. To keep up with the various home movies, he takes his cues from an earpiece.
It’s a literal blow-by-blow retelling of the story, complete with many vacant pauses—the “uh”s and “um”s and “you know”s are some of the funniest moments, as you can almost see Oberzan’s fanatic fan brain whirring along at high speed, often getting ahead of his tongue. Only a true fanatic would find value in telling us the entire story of Rambo, and his fan love is evident and abundant. Overall, it’s whimsical, with several moments of unrestrained laughter. It does drag a bit between the laugh-out-loud sections. The best part came at the very end, with a fake movie trailer for Oberzan’s very real movie homage, entitled Flooding With Love for the Kid (taken from the last line of the book)—DVDs are available after the show for $10. In the film, he plays all the characters, complete with costumes and fake moustaches, and shoots the entire story again within the confines of his 220-square-foot studio—a sort of extended version of the one-man show. Only, you know, not a soliloquy.
Like most plays, it would be better if it were shorter. Brevity is the soul of wit, after all, and Oberzan’s doofy characterization begins to wear thin after the first hour. At this point, a shared enthusiasm for Rambo would come in handy. The seating is not the most comfortable, either—audience seating for this is on pillows, scattered across a thick shag rug (a few chairs are available if needed), so dress appropriately. But Peter Nigrini’s design and video are first-rate, as are co-directors Pavol Liska and Kelly Copper, and SoHo Rep’s familiar layout has been completely turned around in a very amusing way. Nature Theater of Oklahoma is one of New York’s hottest avant-garde troupes, and this is a one-of-a-kind show—and believe me, that phrase is hard to come by in New York theater.
Conceived and directed by Pavol Liska and Kelly Copper
Featuring Zachary Oberzan
Design and Video: Peter Nigrini
Running Time: 85 minutes with no intermission
SoHo Rep, 46 Walker Street; 212-352-3101
Tickets $25
Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday at 7:30 pm; no performance on Sunday, March 22
March 19 – April 12, 2009
Work is crazy
...as you might have deduced, given the date of my last post. The money is great, but working ten to twelve-hour days, every day, sucks. Essentially I have no more life during the week, which is why I had to cancel my Momofuku Ko reservation last week. It killed me to do it, but there was a bit of office chatter about how I wasn't staying late enough. Staying later was the political thing to do. Besides, I'd rather spend my money at the Cru wine tasting tomorrow, which I'm definitely going to, never fear.
Otherwise I don't have much to report. Work, work, more work. I spent the weekend recuperating both from that and from my sister's visit last weekend. That was great, but I slept on the sofa the whole time and so I was very happy to get my bed back. I discovered the existence of the Virginia Pork Festival in June--how I managed to miss that for 33 years is beyond me--and promptly booked a plane ticket home. I'm also headed back to the single world. The most recent interest is good on paper, but I just can't get into it and my head is in a completely different place right now anyway. However, I hope to practice my flirting skills at tomorrow night's wine event. I'm certainly not getting any practice anywhere else right now.
Otherwise I don't have much to report. Work, work, more work. I spent the weekend recuperating both from that and from my sister's visit last weekend. That was great, but I slept on the sofa the whole time and so I was very happy to get my bed back. I discovered the existence of the Virginia Pork Festival in June--how I managed to miss that for 33 years is beyond me--and promptly booked a plane ticket home. I'm also headed back to the single world. The most recent interest is good on paper, but I just can't get into it and my head is in a completely different place right now anyway. However, I hope to practice my flirting skills at tomorrow night's wine event. I'm certainly not getting any practice anywhere else right now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
