Mmm.... cashmere.....

There’s a man in the big city with the name of a trumpet-like instrument who runs these educational series for interested souls. Hubby was a guest artist for one last July called “Body ’n’ Soul” and was one again on Saturday for a different but similar series. He has never received any recompense for these expenditures of his time, or gasoline, and has donated to the cause several commerical CDs out of pocket. While the good Doctor has an unbounded amount of goodwill and charisma, Hubby has said he will not do this again.

However, on this occasion, I deigned to go with him and sat at the back, knitting, while the group discussed his music and he talked about the creative process and other things. I even contributed a few times when I felt it was absolutely necessary. Hubby also made a contact with a jazz singer who is interested in collaborating with him, so he came away happy, too.

The weather was incredibly dreary, with an on-and-off drizzle and just enough chill to make us wish we’d worn something warmer than our trendy leather jackets. As we were leaving the art gallery where the symposium was held, I noticed a men’s clothing store with cashmere pullovers advertised in the window, the prices slashed from $295 to $95. I dragged Hubby inside, and he ended up buying a luxuriously soft and warm blue tweed garment with a zip-up neck at that incredibly low price. He didn’t complain about being cold after that.

We walked from the gallery to a cinema about 20 minutes away where we ate at a Lebanese outlet in the food court and then saw District 9 which never made it here in English. It was excellent. There were parts of it that I absolutely hated, but overall it was very well done. Everyone I’ve spoken to about it predicts a sequel.

Then we found our way back to the car, parked in a public lot all afternoon and evening, and drove home. There were six messages on the answering machine, all from my mother, all totally off the wall, and when I called back (it was only 9:30 p.m.), she was already fast asleep in bed.

The next day she called again, complaining that she was in jail. She wants her independence and she can’t have it. She can’t look after herself. She can’t remember five minutes ago. Little Princess chatted with me on MSN, trying to decide if she should visit her grandmother, considering all the work she had, and I told her, “Yes, go! It will do her a world of good!” She said she would, but just couldn’t stay for supper. I said that that was fine, as long as she got a visit in.

I’m planning a trip to see her mid-November. I can’t possibly go earlier than that, but it doesn’t seem soon enough.

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