Entries Tagged as 'Family'

Failure

One would think, leaving NYC after 21 years and moving back to the area where I grew up, Reading, PA, that I would indeed feel a sense of failure. Oddly, I don’t. Instead, I feel something that feels more like completion.

No, I’m not saying, “I’m home, dig a hole and throw me in; life it over.” Not that kind of completion; not an ending. Rather, more a sense that the adventure that I was on is now over and there is a new adventure to experience.

Lord knows, in my years in NY, I did more, experienced more, than I would have ever imagined, growing up outside of Reading as I did. It has been an amazing ride: wonderful people, amazing places; a fantastic ride.

Recently I uploaded a list of what I’ve been doing theatrically since 1974, here’s the link. It was wonderful to look back over the years to where I’ve been, where I came from.

And now, on to the next adventure. It’s very exciting. At the moment, it’s also very wacky; living in my childhood bedroom in my parent’s home. I’m here alone, as Jamie is finishing up his job in NY – he was “job eliminated”. He’ll be here next week. I’m going up to haul him and the cats and some luggage and, perhaps, a friend’s daughter home to PA.

We, Jamie & I, not our friend’s daughter, she’ll be staying with her parents, are staying with my parents until our place in NYC sells. Hopefully that will be soon; it’s a really wonderful co-op apartment in a great building. We put a lot of work into it. I’m especially sad to give up my fabulous kitchen that we designed and built, but hey, now we can do it all over again…

And, should you be in the market for an apartment in NYC, here’s a lovely one. I’m sure you’d be happy there, I know we were.

So it’s time to move on to the next adventure. That’s what the falling dominoes of the last six months or so are saying anyway.

k.

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Props

One universally consistent complaint about the iPhone is that it is not possible to cut and paste. Since I now tend to compose all my posts on my phone, this, given my feeble powers of memory, poses serious limitations on my inclusion of annotative links. I simply can’t remember extended URLs long enough to add them in.

That being said, Prop. (Well, it wasn’t an incredibly long URL.) Something that supports, the act of supporting, a physical, usually but not always, handheld item used on stage by an actor, and carrying the idea of “support” to its modern vernacular conversion, in the plural, “respect”.

Pshew.

So, the other day, I was called into duty raiding another theatre’s prop rooms. Raiding is, perhaps, the wrong terminology. “Borrowing from” is more correct, however, like long-time neighbors borrowing one another’s tools or garden implements, these “borrowings”, more often than not, are for a term longer than the item’s intended use.

Anyway, we filled a rowboat to the brim with small stools, think milkmaid, and rolled it (yes, it rolls) from one theatre’s warehouse across the street to our theatre. It’s nice that these two spaces are just across and down the street form one another: One, the sheer convenience is a joy, and: Two, the rolling rowboat doesn’t roll all that well.

On our short journey, we passed some local derelicts who offered, albeit in a somewhat slurred and incoherent fashion, stool-toting, boat-rolling tips. None of these were particularly helpful; the tip nor the derelicts.

And here I am, days later, on stage surrounded by our booty. Plus more acquired in the ensuing days.

Props: support; gratitude. Two sides, one coin.

I do love all the folks I’m working with and those who have made my participation in this project possible.

This was written piecemeal over a number of days. It might not make sense to you, but it makes sense to me. And now this has been brewing too long to not post immediately without further delay.

k.

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This

And that.

Since it’s been so damned long since I last wrote, as Nath constantly reminds me, some random thoughts that have been running through my mind. In no particular order, with no particular relevance, rhyme or reason.

  • Follies. Sondheim’s Follies. One of my favorite Sondheim scores. J & I went to see it at Genesius Theatre in Reading, PA. This is the theatre that’s responsible for me existence, that kept me alive during my high school years; dramatic but true, and I’m so glad I’ve reunited with them.

    It was a great evening. A number of folks who I worked with, oh, 30ish years ago, were in the cast, some reviving their old roles (Genesius did the show in 1977; found these slides in my collection. Yeah, slides, kinda like visual 8 tracks) and some doing the show for the first time. Joining the “old hands” were a good number of new Genesians who were equally fun to watch. Quibbles with the production, of course, it’s me, the king of curmudgeons, but still, wonderful to see.

  • Hillary go home. And take Bill with you. With Hil’s latest inexplicable and twisted pronouncement, it’s time to go, ok? Never has a brilliant dynasty choked on its own hubris so monumentally.
  • Hospitials are not fun. Yes, a couple of weeks ago, I spent some time in the hosp, getting poked, prodded and scanned. I had been suffering from dizziness for a bit (some would say my whole life) along with some other disturbing symptoms, not the least: blood pressure was 80/60, not good. So my doc had me admitted – pretty sure it was some sort of virus but not wanting to take any chances – and there I was. The concern was that it was something with my heart or lungs. One does get expedited treatment if there is even the suggestion of heart problems.

    So scanned I was (I seem to have momentarily channelled Yoda), duly pricked, hooked up to machines, drained of blood, and what was discovered? I have a great heart, great lungs and seemingly, no lurking clots. In other words, no answer to what was causing the original symptoms, but the fear of my heart exploding is no longer hanging over my head. So, I guess, in the end, it is a virus, still a bit with me, as I’m still having occasional dizzy spells, but they are abating with each passing day.

  • Camping. J & I have already been once this season. Several weeks ago. Ricketts Glen State Park in PA. A great, early season, getaway. Not too many people there, by the last night, we were the only ones in the park which was eerie, but cool. At some point, I’ll post the pix of our waterfall hike.
  • I lost a dear part of my extended family. She had suffered from incredibly debilitating MS for years. It’s still hard to believe that she is gone, but I’m sure she is out there, smiling slyly (as she did), flying high; finally free of the constraints of a horrible disease. Keep her and her partner of many years in your thoughts.
  • We’ve decided to add a closet in the bedroom. We need to have a 96″ door milled. We’ll, we don’t have to, but it will then match the hall closets, so really, we have to. 🙂 Now we just have to find someone to do it.
  • Ok, I want a Wii Fit, I love my Wii and the Fit looks like a fun addition.

Damn, the Sunday morning talking heads are on and I’m being distracted. More later, after the heads and a trip to the grocery store. Whoo Hoo! Do we know how to do holiday weekend, or what?! LOL

k.

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Benefit

That’s what I’ve been working on.

This weekend, if anyone is in or around Reading, PA, I’ll be in a benefit for the theatre that is responsible, in a large part, for who I am, and really, my very existance.

Genesius Theatre. It’s good to be home.

Click on the link above for info about my beloved theatre.

The show is Fri. 2/29 & Sat. 3/1 at 8PM. Sun. 3/2 at 3PM.

Click here, for tix, should you wish to come on down. It would be lovely to see you.

Back to learning the lyrics.
k.

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Happy Anniversary!!

To Jamie and I.

8 years. Who would have thought it possible; I certainly never thought it would happen.

Funny what happens in your life when you stop looking for something to happen.

Tonight, dinner at Rene Pujol. It will be wonderful. And then, who knows.

Revisit the start of it all on Jamie’s site.

Happy day! I love my husband.

There are those in the gay community who poo-poo the whole idea, saying that we should not mirror the straight community. I say, “Fuck ’em.” I’ve never been too keen on the whole “community identification superceding my own humanity” thing. And I’d write more on that, but I’m at work and need to get back to it. So I’ll just say again, as the late, great Bob B. did, “That’s what makes the phone book.”

And now, back to work,
k.

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Happy

Happy New Year!

I’ve previously mentioned the Christmas Eve bayberry mojo.

And now, here is the New Year’s Eve mojo tradition. A quick internet check shows nothing about my family’s traditional NY Eve mojo. My guess is that it is a mix of PA Dutch and Scottish tradition, or just something that got started long ago by no specific ethnicity and just got handed down until its precise origins were lost.

At any rate, my family’s tradition: in a small bag – I use a sandwich bag because that’s what my parents used, probably something nicer like a cloth bag would be looked on kindly by the gods, or maybe the humble nature of the sandwich bag is some kind of positive statement in and of itself – one per each member of the household – no “one bag is good enough for all” stuff here, everyone must have their own – place:

  • A penny or some humble coin if your monetary system has no penny. “So that you may always have enough money.”
  • A piece of coal. “So that your home may be always warm.”
  • A bit of flour wrapped in paper. “So you may always have food.”

Why is the flour wrapped in paper? So it doesn’t get all messy in the bag, silly. My family’s traditional flour wrap has been a piece of paper towel, again, not particularly pretty, but humble and certainly serviceable.

Once these items are gathered in the bag, it is hung on the front door of your house (or apartment) to welcome in the New Year’s s(S)pirit. This is to be done on New Year’s Eve and must hang there until the morning of New Year’s Day.

And, like the bayberry candle that burns though Christmas Eve into Christmas Day, I understand that this is superstition. But neither the candle nor the NYE bag has let me down thus far and so, I’ll repeat, I’m not messin’ with the mojo.

And they pile on, I have acquiesced, adopted and even grown used to, Jamie’s family’s, “the Christmas tree must be taken down before New Year’s Day”, and he’s happy to have our ratty New Year’s bags hanging on the doorknob for the neighbors to wonder about.

I guess life is so dramatically random that even in this “advanced” modern age, sometimes it feels good and necessary to fall back on a little tradition, a little “magic”.

Have a safe and happy New Year!
k.

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Thankful

You see George, you really did have a wonderful life.

I think often, we forget how really wonderful life is, I know I do from time to time. I get caught up in the minutiae of the daily grind and forget what is truly important, truly wonderful: the magic of being alive. It really is a gift. To throw out another appropriate movie quote, Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death.

Drink in life. Eat up every last morsel. Savour every last moment. Life is too glorious not to.

So catching up. Thanksgiving was odd, but lovely. Jamie, as I mentioned in the last post was sick. He got up long enough to enjoy our dinner, or enjoy it as much as someone without a sense of smell due to clogged sinuses is able.

That weekend, our friends John and Karen came in from London for a week’s visit. We kicked it off by going to Peter Luger’s Steakhouse, a fav of ours. Luckily, Jamie’s ick had subsided enough for him to enjoy the evening and taste the food.

Then later that week, on Thursday, J & I went to the 75th Anniversary Radio City Music Hall Christmas Spectacular. And it was. Spectacular.

We go every year. We love it. We love the over-the-top wackiness of it. We love the live camels on stage and the hokey holiday–ness of it all. But this year, being the 75th Anniversary, it was even better than usual. It was all about the Rockettes, who are indeed, always “featured”, but this year they were truly the stars of the show. They even got their own holiday souvenir martini glass

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filled with, of course, the Rockettini, which was basically a slushie with really high proof rum poured over it.

All during that week after Thanksgiving, along with show-going and friend-greeting, we were getting ready for our first (annual) holiday party. Lots of food, liquor and mixers bought. Some food prepped here. And that Saturday, 12/1, from 5 ’til, well, I’m told that it went on until about 1:30AM, a grand time was had by all.

We spread it out over such a long period as:

  1. We have friends with many different work schedules or kids or other engagements, so this allowed them to drop in/drop out.
  2. Our apartment, though lovely, wouldn’t fit all the invitees comfortably at one time.

It all worked out beautifully. Except, of course, for my being done in by a nasty drink introduced to the party by our friend Suzanne. She had recently edited a drink book and this, unfortunately stuck in her mind; I certainly will never forget it. It is a wicked little concoction called a Duck Fart. And it does smell, not that I’ve actually ever had the pleasure, but I imagine it would be similar, like a duck fart.

It, however, is really tasty. It is layered in equal parts of Kahlua, Bailey’s and Jack Daniel’s. It goes down smooth and hits hard. And so, I ended about an hour or so before the party did. Ah well, a good time was had by all.

In the following two weeks, I had the joy of going through a colonoscopy and an endoscopy. A little holiday treat, that. My last physical turned up a bit of anemia and we’re trying to figure out what’s up with that. Nothing showed up in either of those tests, so we’re on to more. I get the next round of results after the holidays – easy tests, just blood-work. Somewhat ironic that they needed to take four vials of blood to see what’s up with my anemia…

As my reward for going through rather unpleasantly invasive tests, I gave myself the gift of theatre. Jamie & I went to PA to the theatre I grew up in, Genesius, to see “The Belsnickel Scrooge”, a PA Dutch take on “A Christmas Carol.” We loved it. It is so amazing to be reconnected with that theatre.

While in PA, we celebrated Christmas with my folks and our dear extended family members, Sue and Liz. We don’t get to see either my parents or S&L often enough.

Oops, forgot, on the weekend between my c’scopy and my e’scopy, we went to visit Jamie’s Mom in FL for her birthday. We had a great time visiting with her and Jamie’s sister, nephew and his new girlfriend. It was nice to get away from NYC for a bit, although I couldn’t wait to get back to the more seasonal weather. FL is nice, but give me seasons. I don’t care how many decorations you see, if it’s 80 degrees, it just doesn’t feel like Christmastime. This is, of course, coming from a confirmed Northerner, however, Jamie feels the same way and he spent most of his life in FL.

Anyway, that brings us up to the week past, which was filled with Christmas hubbub and such, including a wonderful holiday concert on Saturday featuring Karen Mason, an amazing singer and a lovely person. I worked with her years ago on “And the World Goes ‘Round: The Songs of Kander and Ebb”, back in the day when I was doing backstage stuff. She has such amazing control of her voice and such an amazing energy. She’s just, well, amazing.

She was briefly joined by Greg Edelman, Liz Calloway, and The Accidentals (a tight jazz acapella group) – all were great.

Oh and before the concert, we went to see Sweeney Todd, the film, not the theatre piece. It was magically delicious, go see it.

And that brings us to tonight, Christmas Eve.

We went to NJ to our Godson’s for the evening. Met the little fella and his mom at the train station – he loves trains – then headed to the 4 o’clock Children’s service at their church. Very nice service; Jamie & I both forgot how much we like the practice of going. We’ve decided to check out our local church soon. We both miss the brilliant eucharist at our old church, unfortunately, the emotional/spiritual toll of that place was too high so, the search continues.

After church, we went to their house and met up with the G’son’s dad and sister, Aunt and friends and we all shared a delicious dinner.

Then back to the city in time for me to light my bayberry candle. All these superstitions… I don’t know if it’s a PA Dutch thing or where it came from, but it is tradition in my family to light a bayberry candle on Christmas Eve and let it burn through the night into Christmas day – it must burn completely away. It’s said to be good luck, and like Jamie with his “the tree must come down on New Year’s Eve”, I ain’t messin’ with the mojo.

So here I sit writing, now officially Christmas day, while Jamie sleeps, dreaming of the early morning present opening to come.

So many opportunities we’re given. So many wonderful things to do and see and experience; just look back over just my last four weeks.

It really is a wonderful life.

And now, now that the candle has reached a point of safety, meaning, as it burns merrily in the sink, if it falls, it’s short enough to pose no danger of toppling out onto the floor, but rather just rolling around in the sink, I can guiltlessly go to bed. Jamie is very, very, nervous about the candle. Very. But it’s safe now, and I’m tired, and he’s going to get me up at first light for Christmas morning present-opening, so in the Christmas spirit I say,

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
k.

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Halloween

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Looking forward to it.

In all my previous apartments, I’ve always prepared, ready with treats for the trick-or-treating kiddies. Never had any. That’s why I always pick candy that I like. I always wind up eating it. I’m not complaining.

But this year, I think it will be different. I think, here in the Co-op, where we have a good number of kids, that we’ll get some ghoulies and ghosties at our door.

Today, I learned the secret sign. The sign of invitation. Perhaps the lack of it is why we’ve had no Halloweenian rapping at our door in years past. We have never decorated our door.

My dear, darlin’ Nathalie informed me that door decor is the code that alerts parents that your home is Trick-or-Treat-able. Who knew? It does make sense when you think about it. I can understand that parents wouldn’t feel comfortable walking the halls, ringing unknown doorbells, unbidden. Cold calling for candy, as it were.

Strange as it may seem, this is the first place I’ve lived since I moved to NYC, oh those 20ish years ago, where I’ve actually been acquainted with my neighbors, not just the ones down the hall, but throughout the building. In NYC, we’re all crammed together, door to door, floor upon floor, and it is a rare occasion when you even know the name of the person who lives next door, let alone speak to them.

I suppose that this is the difference between a rental space and an owned space. In a Co-op, where we all depend on each other to support the success, the life, of the building, there is more investment in knowing your neighbors. This can be a good thing, this can be a bad thing. In Jamie and my case, in our new home, so far, and I don’t see this changing, it’s a very good thing. I find it comforting.

As I think about it, I guess the “knowing” of one’s neighbors is not as typical as it once was, and now, I’m including suburbia in that general net. Lives have become busier. People have become more protective of… well, themselves; their time, their lives. My parents used to know everyone on their block. They still know a fair amount of their neighbors, but in the years since I’ve moved away, the neighborhood has changed, become more… transient? People move. Homes that were once owner occupied have now become rentals. Of the 17 homes on my parents block, there are only 3 that haven’t changed hands in the 45 years I’ve been alive, my parent’s home being one of those. It shouldn’t be, given how many times I’ve moved in my life, but it is very odd to me, that change, that move from settled to stopping off point. I guess I see my parent’s neighborhood, where I spent my first 18 years, as a place of stability. And of course, it isn’t. These days, stability is in the heart, not in the location.

And no one sits on their porch anymore.

I guess that’s why I’m hoping to have costumed visitors come a tapping, gently rapping at our chamber door. That memory of a simpler time, that autumnal, comforting timelessness. Yeah, I want to take off the insular shroud for awhile, even just for an evening, and wrap myself in a warm blanket of community.

Nite,
k.

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MomFLa

momfla That’s her, Jamie’s mom, Pat, otherwise known as MomFLa – pronounced “Mom-fla”. As opposed to my mom, MomPA – pronounced “Mom-P-A”.

This was all mentioned previously, in the last post, as a matter of fact. But I thought I’d refresh the memory.

So then, part two of J & my Florida weekend.

Saturday we got up, not too early due to the drinking mentioned in the previous post, and afterall, it was a vacation. Had coffee and some treats from the continental breakfast downstairs. Off to the checkout desk we went. There we discovered that, although we had pre-paid the hotel in advance, there was an additional “resort fee”.

“What is the ‘resort fee'”, queried Jamie, “What did it pay for?”

The reception clerk, looking a bit uncomfortable, said, “The soaps and shampoo, the towels…”

We let it drop. There is a price to be paid for staying on the Disney property. That price is the “resort fee”, a fee which entitles you to the amenities other hotels, even the low-end ones, supply for free. Ah well, it won’t stop me staying there. It’s really a fee for the convenience, the nearness, the shuttle buses; of being part of the Disney Universe. And it really is a Universe that I love.

We headed to Tampa, really Sun City Center, where the golf cart as vehicle rules.

Lots of hugs and kisses. Lots of catching up, because even though Jamie talks to his mom every Saturday morning on the phone, there’s nothing like a face to face.

Pat had a few choices of activities for the day. The first, Sunken Gardens in St. Pete, seemed to be her favorite choice, but Jamie was unconvinced as it was a bit late to head over there. The second choice, El Festival del Sabor, in Ybor City (a Tamp suburb), seemed more do-able. And so we headed out to Centennial Park in Ybor City.

It was great. A lovely celebration of Hispanic culture featuring great music and great food. We walked around the vendors, danced a bit by the stage and had some excellent pork and plantains. Bought some delicious pepper spread from Uncle Paul’s Peppers (not really a Hispanic business, but spicy nontheless). MomFLa went for the extreme, the Habinero spread, while we went for the less-hot, deliciously smoky Poblano. Of course, we later remembered that we couldn’t take it on the plane without checking our bags, and who wants to do that?, so we left it with Pat and ordered some online when we got back home.

Ybor city has revived its streetcar system and they were giving rides at 5 cents a pop that day, so we decided to tour Ybor by streetcar. They’ve got two types, a more enclosed model and the open, Rice-a-Roni, style. We went for Rice-a-Roni. Oddly, they were giving out yellow rice from Vigo (who sponsor the street-car system), not R-a-R. It was a nice ride on a hottish day.

After that, we headed back to mom’s place. We dropped her off for the night and headed to the Holiday Inn Express in Bradenton.

We usually stay in Tampa, or Apollo Beach, but this time Jamie wanted to try some place new. He’s better at picking restaurants than hotels. 😉 No really, it was fine. Really. The only problem was, on our first night there, there happened to be a travelling little league team also in residence. They seemed to have no adult supervision whatsoever. None. From the moment we got into our room at about 8PM until 2AMish, they ran though the halls screaming and careening off the walls.

Early on, Jamie popped his head out of the door and asked them to “Hold it down a bit.” The oldest of the group, 15ish perhaps, sneered and said, “What does that mean?” Showing perhaps why 15 years of teaching had been enough, Jamie replied, “It means ‘Shut the fuck up'” and slammed the door. It was a bit less unruly in our hallway for a bit, but not too long. About 1AM Jamie called the front desk and was told they were doing their best to control the situation.

Next morning, J went down to reception and said, “I checked in yesterday for a two day stay,…”. That’s as far as he got before the Reception clerk said, “They are checking out today.” Clearly we weren’t the only ones to have complained. And they did check out and the second night was quite peaceful.

And that’s that for tonight’s installment of Jamie & Kirk in FL a week ago.

One of these days, I’ll get through the entire weekend and move on to other things of little or no import. Until then…

Nite,
k.

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Calm

And relaxing. And wonderful. And sorely needed.

That’s what our weekend get-away was. We didn’t realize how desperately we needed to stop our lives and leave town for a breather.

We left Thursday, later than expected; our flight was delayed about two hours. Well first one hour, at which point we called the restaurant at which we had a 9PM reservation. We moved it to 10:30, the latest we could make it. After the next hour delay, we called and cancelled the reservation. Ah well, disappointing, but what are you going to do?

We finally made it to Orlando at 10:30. We grabbed our rental car and drove to the hotel, The Royal Plaza. Very nice. On the Disney property and all. We found a place to eat right around the corner, nothing to write home about, the food was decent, they had a huge beer selection. Lots of beer and drink specials. In the end, it was a far more relaxed dinner than we had planned. Everything works out the way it should.

Got up the next morning and took the first Disney shuttle (8AM) to EPCOT. Got our tickets and stood in line for the opening of the gates. Countdown – 10, 9, 8… Got into the greeting area. Forgot to look for our pic and note on the slabs. At the entrance to EPCOT they have this lovely money-making gimmick, you get your pic taken and/or write some note to go with the pic and then they photo process them onto metal sheets about 1 1/2 inch by 1 inch and affix them to these monoliths, for future generations to marvel at. Last year, we fell prey to the vanity of it and had our pic taken, together of course, and wrote “Kirk and Jamie, Honeymoon January, 2000”. Somewhere on those slabs we are indeed immortalized. We just forgot to find out where. On o’ these days…

So then we went to the entrance to the main park area, where we stood waiting for the next countdown as Mickey, Minnie, Chip ‘n Dale and Goofy, paraded and shook hands from the other side of the red rope. Countdown, 10, 9, 8… And we were off into the park proper.

First things first, got to ride the fav staples, Test Track, Ellen’s Energy Adventure (Ellen Degeneres and Bill Nye – The Sciene Guy – Jeopardy and travel through time. Who’d miss that?!), Figment’s Imagination ride (Eric Idle and a purple dinosaur thing that is definitely not Barney). The big sphere thing was closed so we had to miss that this time. Oh, and how could I forget, “Listen to the Land”, a lovely boat ride through the Disney experimental greenhouses?

By this time, we were mighty hungry. So we crossed over to the World Showcase area to do what we had really come for: eat. And eat we did. We love the EPCOT Food and Wine Expo. All the different countries represented, plus some others that just set up for this event, have tasting plates of their native foods – $2 – $4/plate. With wine pairings. There were so many great things. Jamie, who has a much better memory for the food specifics, will hopefully detail more on his page. Suffice it to say that by 5:30 we needed a food break before our evening’s major event.

And so we paused to hear Starship, yes, Jefferson Airplane, Jefferson Starship, and for years now, just Starship. Honestly, I thought this was going to be a joke. I was not expecting it to be anything I would want to see. I was wrong. Mickey Thomas still has an amazing voice. They did all hits, of course. They even did a retrospective journey though the band’s permutations starting off with a lovely female singer doing, yes, at a Disney park, White Rabbit. Brilliant. They had the place rockin’. I was amazed at how much fun it was. And then it was over, and just in time, as we had to hurry on over to the aforementioned main event of our day, the South African Wine Tasting (with food).

Inside the EPCOT exhibition space, there was a band beating out a jazzy South African beat, there was delicious food, and wine, lots of wine. There were four kiosks around the room. Each kiosk had four sides and on each of those four sides was a different winery. Each winery had several different representations of their product. We tasted a lot. I have notes on the wines we really liked. At some point when I find those notes, I’ll post a list here. So from 6 to 8:50 we ate and drank.

Then we decided that we’d had enough and we should go watch the fireworks. As we paused outside the space, we started chatting with two women, Wendy and Connie, who were also at the tasting. They told us about a fun piano bar on the property and told us to join them after the fireworks. Sure, why not?

So we ohhh-ed and ahhhh-ed at the glorious fireworks display. And then headed on over to Jellyroll’s.

There’s always been this path in EPCOT that we’ve never travelled. We thought that it just led to the resort hotels in Disney proper. Well, it does do that, but it also leads to the Boardwalk, a cool little area with shops and bars. Yes, bars, Jellyroll’s being one of them.

Jellyroll’s. It’s a sizeable but still intimate space. A bar on each side of the room. A stage at the head of the room. Two grand pianos on the stage. And all night, two guys, well four actually, they switch off, playing and singing just about any song you request. They were great. We had a blast, although they never did play Jamie’s request, The Cure’s Just Like Heaven, but we survived; they played a hell of a lot of wonderful music.

And then we wound down and, unusual for us when we get going, left before the bar closed and headed back to the hotel. We had to get up relatively early the next day to drive to Sun City Center (outside Tampa) to visit Jamie’s mom, or MomFLA, as we call her, as opposed to my mom, MomPA. We settled in our very very comfy bed and realized with great amazement that we felt so very far from our daily NYC lives. I mean that in a very good way. In one day, we felt a week away from NYC. It was great and relaxing and wonderful.

And now, I’m up too bloody late writing this and I’ll have to finish the rest of the weekend tomorrow ’cause I’ve gotta get up early and go to my hideous job.

Oh, yeah, did I mention that calm, that relaxing “Ahhhhh”, that giddy smile, lasted about two hours into my return to work today. Gone, all gone.

That is, until I started writing about it tonight. I felt relaxed and happy all over again. Maybe I can make it three hours tomorrow before it fades.

Nite,
k.

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