The idea of a combo meditation retreat/water sports event seemed unlikely, but vastly appealing, certainly more than just standing around being told to zip it, which is how I envision a silent mediation spree. Turns out the two things were separate. How cruelly disappointing.
Physically inept as I am, water skiing is the one sport I'm actually ok at, or at least I used to be. When I was 11 years old and first learning how, I was so skinny, I could have probably been pulled up by a rowboat. Fashion Sensation's injury just makes me think I should just let my past glories lie.
The Sensation wandered off somewhere or the other after lunch and Fred and I retired to the tastefully charming bar at the Fairmont Hotel. We had only sat down when Fred was summoned away by a series of increasingly frantic calls from his old neighbors in Baltimore about some guys who claimed they were trying to change the lock there. At 7:00 at night. On a Sunday. The calls escalated to a chat with the cops who showed up and who were sceptical about these guys' story, which I think showed real perception.
While Fred was outside dealing with all his Maryland based drama, the waiter obviously decided I had been stood up by my date. He was a very cute waiter, as so often happens here, but before I could figure out how to finagle his sympathy into possible pity sex, Fred returned and we settled into simple drinking.
|This is not Cookie schvitzing in Baltimore. I'm pretty sure.
Speaking of Baltimore, Ask the Cool Cookie sent me a self portrait he had snapped while packing up Fred's house earlier this weekend and then asked that I not post it here. I'm not going to (even though it had a certain naive charm) and I want full credit for my restraint.
|Get out the way.
And speaking of bloggers who should be restrained, MJ, from Infomaniac, sent me a perfectly lovely card for my blog anniversary. Saki has claimed it for his own and now sits on it blocking the view of all the good porn. Life is so hard some times.