Friday Night, August 11

Dinner at Gasbag with three close friends:

1) Arriving early, I pregamed at the bar with a cat's pajamas cocktail. "Mmm, rye!" I said to myself! But it came with so much orange and whatnot and turned out to be as sweet as a Claude Upson daiquiri.

2) Turns out it's Restaurant Week (I had no idea - i'm such a provincial) so I enjoyed the prixy fixy menu with a salad of heirloom tomatoes concealing some mozzarella business as though it was an escaped criminal, salmon with a sauce both delicate and savory, and then the most exquisite dark chocolate truffle cake with just a hint of lemon zest. Oh. My. God!

3) My knowledge of 21st-century television is so limited. I know there's something with a throne, and something else with a crown, and that Mad Men of Downton Abbey has been over for awhile. And something with some dead people that keep walking. All I can say is, I miss Laugh-In.

Thursday Night, August 10

1) Spent most of the afternoon at an office "collaboration fair," an opportunity for other units from throughout MIT to check in with the Association and see where we might work together. Some interesting conversations, and it's surprising to find out who knows some of my volunteers.

2) Drinks at the home of a South End friend, then hobbled home for light dinner and a long "tough love" conversation on the phone. I have to say, my feet are killing me.

3) Without intending it, I'm in the middle of about five books now: Unleash Your Inner Company, So Near and Yet So Far, John Julius Norwich's history of Venice (I forget which one since it's not in front of me), Vital Friends, and Death on the Nile.

Thursday Midday, August 10

1) It's so important to recognize when you need help. An expert colleague has offered at least twice to help me sort out my office, and today we finally started exploring. I'm still a little shocked by how much we did - and how much was disposed of. There's still quite a ways to go, though . . .

2) For mental recreation I'm rereading Emily Kimbrough's So Near and Yet So Far, her account of touring South Louisiana in 1955 with five of her college friends as well as two of the Old Ladies of my Childhood, the cultural and political force that was Emma Michie, and Clara Gebson. So what a coincidence that the office cafe was serving jambalaya today.

3) "Enough1 Enough! I'll take their diamond necklace
And show my noble stuff by being gay and reckless!"

Wednesday, August 9, recollected

1) Dined last night with a group of volunteers in the lush Brookline back yard of a committee member. All the elements conspired to make a lovely evening: mild weather, good food, unassuming good manners, and good talk.

2) As an alumni relator, getting dropped into a group of people who have known each other well for decades is one of the challenges one has to face. It's important not to dominate the conversation (it's their night) and just as important not to sit there like a lump. A basic strategy is to ask a question that will start people on student reminiscences. On this occasion, one of the many topics brought up was the history of women at MIT. There I had something to contribute, since I've met and worked with several women who graduated in the 1950s and earlier. And some of the alumnae I mentioned were also fondly remembered by those present. Wonderful stories.

3) I had no idea that Barbara Cook was the original Cunegonde, or that Glenn Campbell had recorded "Southern Nights." So I have been enjoying for the first time the former's recording of "Glitter and Be Gay," and remembering hearing the latter on KLOU many times in my early teens.

Monday, August 7

1) When a volunteer is picking up the check, of course I'm gonna put on a suit and tie.

1a) Fascinating stories about experimental airplanes with folding wings, among other things.

2) Timely reminder from a colleague that I promised to give a five-minute talk at a thing on Thursday afternoon.

3) Pass the celery.

Weekend of August 5-6

1) Of the six pieces of writing I wanted to get done this weekend, I completed two, made some progress on a third, and didn't get to the other three. Oh well, progress not perfection! But I do feel good about getting those two pieces done.

2) A Saturday night of Ealing Comedies at Worcester Square: Whisky Galore!, which I'd never seen, and an old favorite, Kind Hearts and Coronets. Delighted seeing the former to recognize Gordon Jackson (Hudson on my beloved Upstairs, Downstairs), Jean Cadell (Mrs Pierce in Pygmalion with Lesie Howard and Wendy Hiller), and Basil Radford (who has the small part of Sir George with Charles Laughton in Hitchcock's Jamaica Inn).

3) You can certainly tell that the third-floor children are home from summer vacation.

The Opposite Sex (1956)

Many, many years ago, the friend who introduced me to one of the great films of 1939, The Women, told me "Later they made it into a terrible musical called The Opposite Sex. They ruined it by bringing in all the men characters!" Now, thanks the miracle of Yewtybbe, I've been able to see it for myself. And . . . well, it's not terrible, but it's definitely Good Campy Fun Of Its Era.

To justify all those musical numbers, Hollywood moved Clare Boothe Luce's play and George Cukor's brilliant film up Park Avenue to the intersection of Park and 42nd Street, where Society and Theatre meet. Sweet Kay Hilliard, née Sweet Mary Haines, gave up her career as a radio singer to marry Broadway producer Stephen Hilliard (so much for "Stephen Haines the engineer.") Crystal Allen works as a showgirl in Stephen's latest show. Adrian's fashion show has been transformed into a theatre charity benefit performance. Best of all, Nancy Blake the author has become Amanda Penrose, successful Broadway playwright and narrator of the story. To echo the pertness of the 1950s, Mary, Little Mary, and Jane have become Kay, Debbie, and Lexy. Miriam "Vanities" Aarons is now Gloria "Copacabana" Dahl.

As Kay Hilliard, terminally sweet June Allyson spends most of the movie giving her best impression of a worried kitten. Her sweetness is made even flatter with Helen Rose's decision to costume her in self-effacing pastels or dark neutrals throughout until her "stripped for action" arrival at the Skylight Room in body-hugging, eye-popping red satin (see photo below). The one exception is an impregnable blue chiffon jumpsuit for her "Now, Baby, Now!" number. Her lyrics say "Take me!" but her costume says "Can't touch this." It's no wonder Young Joan Collins stole her man! Conniving Joan makes the screen crackle in her exchanges with June and with Dolores Gray.

Dolores Gray as Sylvia Fowler

Forgotten today by all but Lypsinka and her fans, Dolores Gray follows in the footsteps of Rosalind Russell as Sylvia Fowler. The actress who launched a thousand drag queens, Dolores's makeup almost makes her look carved from a Barbie Doll. Sylvia's ridiculousness is enhanced by Helen Rose's costumes, especially her mermaid-looking dress at the anniversary party and her triple-flounced black lace extravaganza, each with a silly fascinator. When she appears in a cowl, which is often, she might be E.T.'s human grandmother. Dolores had a great figure, and in her skintight pink satin sheath (with lampshade-ruffle bodice) and blonde pageboy, she gives off a bit of Marilyn Monroe excitement, tinged with a hunger to make trouble.

The genius of costume designer Helen Rose.

A galaxy of supporting performances fill in the fun: Carolyn Jones, always ready with a perky wisecrack as Crystal's backstage gal pal Pat, well before her Morticia Addams days; Bill Goodwin, making a shutterbug out of Howard Fowler (I was delighted to recognize him as the hotel detective in Hitchcock's Spellbound); everyone's favorite loose-limbed comedienne Charlotte Greenwood, sporting a ponytail and spurs as Lucy; Joan Blondell as perpetually pregnant Edith Potter, back when maternity style deemphasized the contours of la femme enciente; Juanita Moore from Imitation of Life, underused as a powder room attendant at Sydney's; Barbara Jo Allen as Dolly De Haven, blatantly based on Hedda Hopper with all those feathered hats; Bess Flowers, "Queen of the Extras," happily spotted in a couple scenes (you'll recognize her from a LOT of movies, but especially from All About Eve; she's sitting at the head table at the Sarah Siddons Awards, and later brings Eve something and says "I'm so happy for you, Eve"), and your Gladys Kravitz and mine, Alice Pearce, as Olga, the fatally gossipy manicurist as Sydney's.

Dolores Gray, June Allyson, and Joan Collins. That's Bess Flowers, "Queen of the Extras," in the back at left.

One of the great surprises of this movie is seeing Agnes Moorehead assay light comedy as the Countess. What a delight! Between her early dramatic successes in Citizen Kane, The Magnificent Ambersons, and Dark Passage, and the Years of "Derwood!" in the 1960s, her performance as the Countess is just sheer fun. Watch for her leaving the "class reunion" with her champagne glass.

Ann Miller, June Allyson, Dolores Gray, and Agnes Moorehead destroy the kitchen.

The future of television is in this movie. Carolyn Jones went on to The Addams Family, Agnes Moorehead and Alice Pearce to Bewitched!, and of course Joan Collins to Dynasty.

Now for the men, who really shouldn't even be here in the first place. In The Opposite Sex, instead of the Countess, Sylvia falls for Buck Winston to make her look even sillier. It totally works. And Jeff Richards as Buck has enough aw-shucks pulchritude to make anyone silly in the knees. See also slim beautiful brunette Jerry Antes, the uncredited singer/dancer who leads the "Yellow Gold" musical number from Stephen Hilliard's Broadway show, all about bananas. Just enough eyeliner to know it's there . . . And another surprise is young, dark-haired Leslie Nielsen, a long time before all those Naked Gun movies. He's the perfect Stephen: handsome, sincere, conflicted, and - just like the ladies said, not really interested in marrying Crystal.

Joan Collins, Jerry Antes, and Carolyn Jones in the "Yellow Gold" number. Ain't he cute?

But for me, Ann Sheridan takes the honors over all the cast for her authoritative portrayal of Amanda Penrose. Mrs. Morehead got written out of The Opposite Sex, and Amanda transforms a mother's guidance into the genuine concern of a best friend. Sheridan looks every inch the successful career woman in her two-piece suits with simple hats and her form-fitting evening gowns. With a voice that could cut steel, she can also dish with the best of them, and she and Sylvia make the best of frenemies. Just watch what she does with that stick of celery at 21 . . .

Dolores Gray, Alice Pearce, and Ann Sheridan, wearing my favorite costume of the entire movie.

The musical numbers really don't do much to further the story, with the exception of Buck Winston's "Rock and Roll Tumbleweed" at the Skylight Roof. June Allyson gets three: 'Young Man with a Horn" (featuring guest star Harry James), "Perfect Love" (a pretty ballad), and "Now, Baby, Now!" "Yellow Gold," aside from displaying the considerable talents of Jerry Antes, show us chorus girls Crystal and Pat on stage and the brings us back to their dressing room. As part of the Footlights Home Benefit performance, Dick Shawn and Jim Backus do what's perhaps their usual schtick with a comic version of the title song "The Opposite Sex." Out of synch with the rest of the film, I much prefer Ann Sheridan's rendition of it over the opening credits. (It must be Ann Sheridan singing it. I hope it is anyway. 'Cause damn . . . ) It was criminal of them to cast Ann Miller in this musical without giving her any singing or dancing! One wonders if it was part of June Allyson's contract . . .

Devotees of the 1939 film will find themselves frustrated at the slower pace of The Opposite Sex. You could drive a bus through some of the pauses between lines here, and George Cukor kept his cast snapping at lightning-fast speed. Most of your favorite lines remain, e.g. "You ought to go to someone," "On the train for Reno," etc., and there are some wonderful new ones: "A jar of face cream doesn't snore," "One woman's poise is another woman's poison," a very special reference to steamed clam, and lots more. But the best is this:

Pat: "I think you're playin' this thing all wrong. Smart girls take what they can get."

Crystal: "Smart girls get what they can take!"

Happy viewing!

Saturday morning, August 5

1) Beautiful back porch coffee on this cool summer morning. After so many beautiful weekends away this summer, I rejoice to have a beautiful weekend at home.

2) There's a lot of readin' and writin' to do this weekend. And every moment I can think of something new to add to my do list.

3) Sometimes the most daring thing you can say is, like they say in Hollywood, "We can do anything we want." The trick, then, is to figure out just how to do anything you want.

Friday Night, August 4

1) I'd like a Foppish Dandy, please, over ice. Garnish, easy on the fop.

2) Floundered through my first swim at the pool since before Reunions (!), and halfway through discovered that they'd opened all the skylights.

3) "They are not long, the days of summer linen."

Friday Midday, August 4

1) A vendor just punted on a teleconference he initiated with me and one of my more demanding volunteers. You know punctuality is my thing - it's how you show respect - and the volunteer in question already has an unhappy impression of this vendor. Now I'm going to have to spend time talking a volunteer off the ceiling, and possibly (horrors) finding another vendor.

1a) In the words of Miss Sweet Brown, "Ain't nobody got time f'that!"

2) On a much happier note, my calendar is filling in with great opportunities for conversation, and that makes me VERY happy.

3) Weekend! Weekend at home! Writing, friends, planning - and a NAP.

Wednesday night, August 2

1) At least five people complimented me on my Hawaiian shirt today. My sister's family gave it to my for Christmas in 2015. I've always loved it.

2) No drama, no drama.

3) The horrifying realization that I haven't been to swim in two months.

Wednesday midday, August 2

1) Feeling more focused and energetic today, even after lunch.

2) August is shaping up to be a busy month. And that's good . . . and, um . . . good.

3) Quote of the Day:

“Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together.” – Vincent Van Gogh

Tuesday night, August 1

Today begins my favorite month!

1) Using humor to deflect crankiness, I quoted Robert Lawson's Country Colic: A Weeder's Digest to one of my volunteers today: "Estimate: a form of light fiction consisting of four parts, each increasing by 50%.. . ." The humor was appreciated, but it didn't end up assuaging the situation.

2) Up early and almost bright to breakfast at home and pay the biills.

3) Bostonians are, once again, thrown into chaos by another massive road project. You'd think when tneBig Dig was over that would be that! This time is the Commonwealth Avenue Bridge, which is a) right over the Turnpike, and b) an unavoidable intersection on my commute. To my relief, MBTA buses are allowed through, and my commute time was not noticeably impacted. Here's hoping that sticks!

Debut at Tanglewood

Thirty-five years living in Massachusetts, and I'd never been to Tanglewood, the summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Happily, the chance came last night, and no subsequent visit will ever top it.

I'm spending a long weekend with friends who have a new house on a big pond in Otis, which is not very var from T'wood. Tickets had been arranged weeks before, and I vaguely remembered what was on the program; vaguely, as in "I think there's some Ravel . . . " All I knew was, I'd finally get to see what all the T'wood excitement was about, and there wouldn't be anything musically offensive like Ligeti, Lutowslawski, or *shudder* Arnold Schoenberg on the bill.

A morning Fycebykke post prompted a reply from fellow Lake Charles native Paul Hart Miller (PHM), who was going to be at the very same concert because Paul Groves would be singing the tenor solo in the Berlioz Te Deum. This is significant because Paul Groves and I were in the same Sunday School class at First Methodist, and the same third, fifth, and sixth grade classes at Oak Park Elementary School in Lake Charles. He is one of the few famous people to come out of Lake Charles, along with Tony Kushner and Fats Domino. (If you know of others, please inform.) I had not seen him in about 40 years. And I thought, "Well, it's certainly going to be Lake Charles Night at Tanglewood!"

Suddenly, a barrage of texts on my almost four-year-old flip phone. PHM said Paul wanted us to come backstage after the performance! I was sort of surprised; Paul and I were not really close as children, and we'd lost touch a long long time ago. I provided our names, and then called Mother, who was predictably just delighted, esp. as she was having "lunch with all the widows," many of whom are Paul Groves fans. What a choice tidbit of news to share!

Came the early evening, and the four of us in the house party loaded up the car with picnic provisions to drive through the green winding roads to T'wood. We drove in, we parked, we unpacked our gear and trooped onto the Lawn behind the Shed to enjoy a picnic of roast chicken, various salads, white wine, strawberries, and chocolate. Before eating, a friend made sure I saw everything: the Highwood estate, Ozawa Hall, the original Tanglewood estate of the Tappan family - everything. T'wood is like a tidy version of Interlochen*. I've never seen such well-maintained, velvety lawns, without a leaf or pine needle out of place.

You can just see the pink candelabra on the table here.

Unsurprisingly, some picnickers treated Lawn picnicking seriously. Tables, chairs, silverware, china - that's basic. I'm talking elaborate linens, floral centerpieces, and candles. I particularly admired the pink candelabra dripping with crystals brought by one party. Wagons were used to tote in supplies by more than a few picnickers. At one time in my life I'd've been on the "Too much of a good thing is wonderful"* bandwagon, but now I was completely content that we kept it simple. We even had time to stow our gear back in the car before the start of the concert. Someone observed that the Lawn seemed less packed than at other concerts, possibly because the program included three rarely-performed works and no "crowd-pleasers"

Our seats were near the rear center of the Shed (Section 12, Row J, for you T'wood habitués out there), and we got settled about five minutes before the start of the concert. I noticed sitting a row or two ahead of us a woman wearing a small shopping bag of clear thick shiny plastic on her head. One of the handles was broken. I thought "How dada." A Jumbotron screen near us was alternately a help and a distraction.

Then out came Charles Dutoit, saturnine, eyes crinkling with mischief, to get us started with Stravinsky's chant funebre. I think this was my favorite of the three composiitons. Not only did it compare favorably to Firebird, I loved the story of its creation for a concert in memory of Stravinsky's teacher Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, and then its disappearance from the world for the next 118 years. It was rediscovered in a Russian archive year before last after all this time, and the parts discovered were those used for the world premiere, including signatures of the performers and corrections in Stravinsky's own hand!

Then Ravel's Piano concerto for left hand. The pianist came out dressed as one of the waiters: black button-down shirt and black trousers, and no tie. If Maestro Dutoit had removed his white dinner jacket, they'd've been dressed alike. I instantly remembered the words of Frau Blücher from Young Frankenstein: "I suggest ya put on a tie!" A friend whispered to me "Well, it's summer," and I pointed out that all the men in the orchestra were wearing dinner jackets and ties. And they looked wonderful.

The concerto began rather heavy for the pianist - I wasn't quite sure what a left-hand-only work was going to achieve - but Ravel incorporated his delightful, light touches after all. I love Ravel - not just for La Valse, and not just because he dedicated it to my beloved Misia Sert - and it was beautiful to be introduced to an unfamiliar work.

Intermission! A dash for the bathroom, and then some confusion trying to connect with PHM . . . but then, the place seats thousands of people . . . and thanks to the miracle of text messaging, he and I did find each other in person and devise a plan for post-concert.

Then on to the Berlioz Te Deum. With the Tanglewood Festival Chorus filing in. I was irresistibly reminded of Hitchcock's The Man Who Knew Too Much and the gigantic chorus on stage at the Albert Hall with Rise Stevens. The lady choristers in that movie really knew how to wear white! Paul Groves came out looking Perfectly Proper in black tie. The Berlioz started off in just my style, but I confess my attention wandered here and there. The tenor soloist has very little to do until the penultimate movement, a prayer, that Paul interpreted with sensitivity and control. And then the great big finish. I don't follow along in these Latin texts very often, and Lord knows I've been to a lot of choral concerts with Latin texts in them, but I think this is the first one with "Judex" in it. #rare

Now PHM had given our names at the stage door, and given me instructions on where to go, but we ended up reaching him before he'd left the Shed, and he spirited us backstage the way he himself had been directed, through some sort of sound booth. I don't know what I expected backstage to be like there, but it was bright and white and narrow. We followed Paul slowly down a corridor, apparently impeding the progress of the entire Tanglewood Festival Chorus, which one lady chorister let me know about in No Uncertain Terms.

Then all we had to do was press flat against the wall at an intersection and wait not very long for the Hometown Tenor to open his dressing room door. And that launched a bit of commotion. Paul is Kind of a Big Deal, so there was a flurry of donors and choristers who wanted their moment with him, and a lot of photos were taken, including of Men of Lake Charles.

From left: myself, Paul Groves, and Paul Hart Miller.

We had our share of reminiscences about First Methodist, and I was able to share Mother's greetings and her excitement about getting to communicate to his fans at home about me seeing his performance. A chorister popped by who knew PHM and who also works for my employer. The discovery that he and I had mutual acquaintances added to the somewhat chaotically pleasant nature of the visit.

I made my excuses and rejoined the house party, now quite ready to return. The drive home included a lot of discussion of the program, and technology that will eventually replace paper scores on music stands for musicians. We made it back home by 11 PM! Three cheers for shortcuts unknown to the general public.

How could any future trip to Tanglewood top this?

*I am in no hurry for Interlochen to get tidy. Frankly, these days it's a bit too tidy.

**Thank you, Mae West.

Tuesday morning, July 25

1) As someone whose speaking voice was, in early life, often mocked and compared to Snagglepuss, I sympathize with J**** K******. That doesn't mean I don't think he colluded with the Russians, but I don't think he needs to be raked over the coals because of the way he talks.

2) I, for one, don't really mind this little cold snap we're having right now. Thinking people have already turned off their air conditioners to save energy . . . and money.

3) Yesterday I sent this article to some friends. In subsequent discussion I referred to Dr. Dre, who was a childhood idol of the subject. One friend replied. "Let me me adjust for a moment to you [emphasis mine] referring to Dr. Dre."

Monday morning, July 24

1) Up at 5:40 AM and, while I had a motivation to get up, it feels like an "up like a stone" morning.

2) Ear worms this morning have ranged from Harry Belafonte's work chant in Island in the Sun to that Mennonite hymn I heard sung on the Common Saturday - and thought I had forgotten. I wish I knew the words . . .

2a) Why on earth has Island in the Sun become my go-to movie? I'd never heard of it, it's very dated (subject: interracial relationships), and James Mason looks old enough to be Diana Wynyard's brother instead of her younger son. Is it the score? Dorothy Dandridge? Young Joan Collins? Older Joan Fontaine? I have no idea.

3) Must-do assignment today: call the pest control people. Last week I saw a rat running toward the house. Friday or Saturday one of the neighbors saw a rat running out of the hedge at the front of the house. *shudder* Faugh! Rats!

Sunday morning, July 23

1) To bed just after 11 PM, and now up at 5:30, not by design. Back porch coffee, enjoying how very cool it is and the sound of the breeze whirling about the neighborhood.

1a) How much energy would the City of Boston have saved if everyone slept without air conditioning last night, and just left the windows open?

2) Wriring this book review for Etiquetteer is a bit of a slog, and reconfirms the lesson I am always learning and relearning: when you have a thought, write it down immediately. Don't just say you'll remember it, 'cause you won't remember it the same way.

3) Truly happy to be at home this weekend.

Saturday Morning Impressions/Used Bookstore

1) On the subway, sitting across from me was a young woman in a tanktop with "Costa Rica: Nothing Artificial" emblazoned across her bosom. I thought, "Except your implants."

2) Another young woman on the subway, wearing a sundress patterned with elves and elvish fairy women. She wore a jeweled pendant that appeared to come from some science fiction fantasy franchise.

3) That rare, beautiful moment when you find exactly what you're looking for on the very first shelf you see.

4) Walking through the Common, encountering a choir of Mennonites singing a gentle, harmonious hymn. Behind the conductor, cross-legged on the grass, sat a woman oddly waving her arms to the music. I thought of the last words of the 8th Duke of Chalfont: "It's quite clear that you are insane. Give me that gun at once!" I can still hear that sweet hymn now, something about finding the City of Zion.

***

Try though I might, any time I exit M***'s from the back I'm irresistibly pulled to West Street to B****** Book S***, because it's nearby, and because I love books, and because I love a bargain. One begins by browsing the rolling racks outside, today notable for a strong scent of chamomile tea from an unknown source. (At least I hope it was chamomile tea . . . ) Browsing, I noticed themes (which are not always present when browsing in a used bookstore): Judaism, Venice, the Clintons, English history. Also figures in whom I tend not to take a great interest because so many other people do: Emily Dickinson, Oscar Wilde, Stephen Tennant.

A couple of young men in tanktops with heavy wheeled suitcases were also browsing, and seemed to find a lot of gigantic coffee table books. I joked with them "You may regret those when you get on the train!" "But we have our car . . ." came the friendly but distinctly dismissive reply. #backoffoldman

Because I am who I am, and because I write about what I write about, the word "dowager" tends to attract my attention, so I found this on one of the dollar carts:

Because we enjoy Perry Mason in my family, and I've already read several of Gardner's books, I know I'll enjoy this one.

Moving indoors, I was reminded (as I am increasingly) that the more I visit used bookstores, the more likely I am to find a) books I already own and b) books I no longer own and don't need to reacquire. But I did find a couple titles to return for at a later date.

My real interest in President Benjamin Harrison is that his second wife (a cousin of his wife's) was Mary Scott Lord Dimmick. You can imagine my excitement as a third-grader discovering that bit of information in the encyclopedia! Leafing through this biography, turns out she was known as "Mame." Love it.

Because Venice. Note also the book about Casanova in the back. I've read a biography of him, and after the amorous glamor of his early life, he spent a querulous, unhappy retirement as some duke's librarian. I made up a bit of doggerel:

First he waxed to the beat of his lance,

Then he just waxed the seat of his pants.

#keepyourdayjob

Noticing books on Alicia Markova and the Russian Revolution, it was also interesting to consider how I've kind of had my fill of topics that used to absorb me, like the Ballets Russes (1980s), the Romanovs (late 1990s), and even the Titanic (perpetually since 1977) . I'm still very interested, of course, but I'm not compelled to seek out books on those topics these days.

All in all, I consider myself fortunate to have purchased only two books. The Devil could easily empty my purse here.

Saturday morning, July 22

1) Getting late start, and even though I have a lot to do today, i don't much care. Back porch coffee, reading the news, nothing trying.

2) The disadvantage of not having a roommate is untidiness.

3) I need to run into town today: Haymarket, groceries, Athenaeum, and a couple other errands.

Staff Retreat . . . and SCAVENGER HUNT!

This morning during my dining room breakfast, responding to an email from a friend in England, I suddenly went cold: "Is that all-staff retreat today?" A quick log-in to my work email revealed that yes, it was today, and no, it wasn't at the office, and I still had time to get there on time.

Having been at the office as many years as I have, I've been to a lot of all-staff retreats. Some are great and provide useful interactions and amusement. Others fall into the Forced Fun category. I swept into a conference room at the campus's beautiful new conference center 15 minutes early with no expectations - and absolutely no memory of anything sent in advance about what to expect anyway.

My table assignment seated me with a group of colleagues with whom I don't often interact, and who had not been at MIT nearly as long as I had. In fact, I think I had seniority over the whole table by at least 15 years. By design? Oh yes, and later the committee's intention was clear . . .

The day's themes: Culture, Collaboration, Customer Service, Celebration. We each contributed an anonymous word for each category, to be revealed in a word cloud at the end of the retreat.

The best feature of last year's retreat was a series of short, quick talks by staffers we're not used to seeing behind a podium. To my delight, this year four colleagues who don't usually present gave talks, and they all brought it. And I was surprised that two of them quoted me. What on earth? One quote was from my part of the reunion staff training about how to behave, but the other was shared by a colleague I work with a lot, from a conversation we'd had about two years ago. The quote? "Lighten up, Toots. It's a party." In my office I have a magnet that I had way back when I worked at the ballet, of the dog from F***** G** holding a martini and saying that. It's a helpful reminder that what we're doing is not rocket science, it's just a party. I was so touched that she'd held that conversation so close, that it meant enough to her to share as part of that presentation.

After lunch, we were instructed on the big event of the retreat: a photo scavenger hunt over the campus (and beyond) that would take about two hours. The last time we'd done a retreat scavenger hunt was 2006 (verified by another veteran colleague during the reception) - which I remembered because of a) the discovery that MIT owns a sculpture by Picasso, a.1) learning that Picasso didn't just paint, and b) the mock-not-mock outrage when another team scored ahead because they took individual pictures with different beaver figurines and all of figurines didn't count if they were in one photo.*

The rules were essentially the same as they are for all scavenger hunts with photos. Use clues provided to visit a location and take a photo with at least three team members in it. Photos were to be texted to the committee via smartphone, with a hashtag. And the clues made apparent the committee's seating plan, because it turned out I was the only teammate who'd ever worked on main campus. Ever. The clues were good ones, just easy and just difficult enough. The locations were spread throughout the campus - and even one in Boston, for extra points. A teammate insisted we try for that - "No one else will try to get there" - and since another teammate had a car, we split in two. The Car Team covered Boston and the west of campus, and the rest of us covered the east of campus.

From a blasé "It's just a game" attitude, my rare sense of competitiveness suddenly kicked into overdrive, and I ended up leading a sub-team of three young ladies to complete our large number of photo clues. And I made them hustle! True confession: I didn't learn to ride a bike until I was nine years old, so I had to walk really fast to keep up with the other kids. So I was ready to zip this thing along, while my colleagues' gear was set on Stroll. Most of that 90 minutes I spent about 20-50 feet ahead of them saying "Come ON!"

We covered Kendall Station, the Coop, a Hub*** stop, Building 66, Gray House, the Great Sail, Nano, K****** Court, Building 7, the Hart N******* Gallery, the Alchemist sculpture, M***** Hall, the fire hose water fountain hack, and, the very last, the Picasso sculpture - which had been moved from its 2006 location to another nearby location. It was hot, and we all worked up a sweat. In the rush, we missed a couple clues, including the wind tunnel. I'm sure I'm leaving a few things out anyway.

But the BONUS question was where I knew we'd succeed: photos of all former office locations. Because I'd worked in almost all those locations! We got photos by all three old offices in Bldg 10, the Nano shot counted for Bldg 12, and a fund-raising colleague thought of Bldg W31, where the dialing for dollars staff worked until a couple weeks ago - brilliant! The Car Team managed the others.

We made it back ~15 minutes before the 2:45 PM deadline, exhausted and dehydrated. I kept sucking down little bottles of water while others worked on the special crossword (one point per correct answer). All I could do was fret that the Car Team wouldn't make it back in time. 2:40, 2:41, 2:42 - where were they?! At last at 2:43 they came barreling off the elevator, and I knew we were safe. And they'd had their own adventures . . .

Even without knowing the results, I'd just had the time of my life revisiting a place I've spent half my life. Half. Well, almost half. Damn. What happened?!

Years ago, at another one of these retreats that was held in a bowling alley, for whatever the team activity was (it was not a scavenger hunt), the team I was on came in dead last. All you can do in that situation is embrace it. "We're Number Ten! We're Number Ten!" I kept my booby prize, a small bowling game, until last year when The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up came into my life. So yeah, I really wanted to ace this thing, and I felt like we had a good chance of it with the Car Team's having gone to Boston, and with all our bonus photos. And as the scores were announced, and we kept hearing our team number not being called, we started looking at each other with that light one gets behind the eyes that says "Yeah, maybe we did it!" And I'm afraid that when the second-place team was called and it wasn't us, we let out a big cheer. Yes, victory and gift cards were ours!

All that remained of our agenda was to see the word clouds around the day's themes, which yielded one surprise for me. The one word someone had submitted anonymously for Customer Service was "Dimmick." Which means I'm going to have to spend time denying that I wrote it in, and also find out who did so and thank them. During the reception a colleague asked humorously "But did they mean it as a good thing?" I could only answer, also good-humoredly, "Some alumni would say yes, and others would not!"

Three random references during the day. Taking that temp job in 1990 . . . I didn't set out to become a fixture at this place. But that's what happened.

While sucking down the first of two beers I cornered a committee member to make sure that we'd gotten appropriate credit for our bonus photos of former office locations in Bldg 10. And she told me no - because the clue said "building" and not "entry." I still think it's being penalized for having valuable institutional memory, but then we did win - and it IS just a game and it was a lot of fun!

That scavenger hunt wore me out so much that when I got home I fell asleep for over an hour; I even missed calls from two friends. But it was the best day at the office, perhaps of the whole year.

*It's such a long story I'd fall asleep telling it. Never mind.