Friday Morning, August 17

1) Back porch coffee, the last of the first package of chicory coffee. I did not come to chicory coffee until later in life - certainly it was sometime in this century and not the previous one - but it's really a treat.

2) Dispiriting weather forecast this weekend, which would be fine except for my plans to be on the Cape. OTOH, I can always pack long pants, a sweatshirt, and books, but my neighbors have a campsite on Bumpkin Island in the hahbah this weekend . . .

3) Geopolitical risk analysis is not one of my go-to topics. If you were to scan my library at home you'd find shelves of English and French history, US Presidents and First Ladies, Golden Age Hollywood, homosexuals of the mid-century, Venice, courtesans, elegant disasters, art and art history, some fiction, and of course three shelves of etiquette books. But not geopolitical risk analysis. So To Dare More Boldly is a good choice for me because it's breaking new ground.

3a) Several autumns ago we were spending a weekend in Bridgton, Maine, and spent an afternoon shopping in all the Stores of Gorgeous LIttle Things. of course I bought books, and I heard two of my friends talking about that. "What did he get this time?" "About what you'd expect, some French history book. But he did get a book about ginseng." So it's good to keep people guessing.

3b) In fact, I picked up The Affair of the Poisons on that trip, which was about a few scandals during the reigh of Louis XIV, but also a book about the history and cultivation of ginseng, particularly in the UIS, and the differences between Eastern and Western medicine. Fascinating.

Thursday Night, August 16

1) Today I had the beautiful experience of a Godspell cast reunion I never imagined would happen. Ruth happened to be passing through with her daughter, and we enjoyed lunch at ye Za in ye Kyndylle Square with conversation that went all over the map. I cannot tell you what joy this brought me. We had not seen each other in over 35 years!

2) A welcome domestic surprise awaited me at home: the wicked and evil tree near our front entrance is now gone! Rejoicing that I will now be able to see oncoming traffic when waiting for a car in the middle of the night to go to the airport.

What could be nicer than a gift from a little child?

3) Tonight concluded my 15th anniversary celebrations with a small party for the neighbors at Maison Robaire. The family from next door came with their small children; I was met at the door with a sweet bouquet of black-eyed susans and zinnias from their little girl, and their sturdy little son thrust a small pink-and-purple zinnia at me. Was that not sweet?!

3a) Besides them, the second floor owner (up from her permanent home down South) and three tenants, plus one boyfriend joined us to drink rosé and share stories about travel, soccer, the neighborhood, working in fast food, social work, and much else. I'd only intended this to be  a short party, so you can imagine my surprise when the guests left and I discovered it was 10:30! But evenings of convivial conversation are so necessary to the refreshment of the spirit. I am so happy to have drawn this group together for the evening.

Thursday Morning, August 16

1) Once upon a time I bought an antique Valentine for my gramma with a poem on it:

I must dress in my best.
I must brush up my curls
For I’m going to meet
The sweetest of girls . . . my Valentine.

And while my lunch date today was never a Valentine by any means, it's someone special from my past and requires full canonicals.

2) Good chicory coffee on my back porch reading the Times.

3) White and clear.

Wednesday Night, August 15

1) I'm just gonna come right out and say it. I am seeing so much depression out there, so much anxiety, so much uncertainty. I'm seeing it from friends, from family, from colleagues. I see it on ye Fycebykke. Hell, I see it in the mirror! Don't feel like you have to go through it alone, people, or that it's better to harbor it to yourself, or that you are less of a person for going through it. Reach out! I promise it's better.

2) To Dare More Boldly: The Audacious Story of Political Risk, by John Hulsman, is my latest book, not what people would describe as a usual choice for me. It's quite engaging after a somewhat turgid introduction, but the phrases "geopolitical risk analysis," "geopolitical risk analysts," and "geopolitical risk assessment" make me feel like I'm going to sprain my eyes. Not very euphonious, are they? And I must say, split infinitives, a pet peeve, infest this book like raisins in a fruitcake. And yet . . . fascinating.

3) Anniversary celebrations continue tomorrow evening with a very small gathering for the neighbors. I rather think this makes me dean of the condo association, since I'm the resident owner of longest continued residence. Let's hope that doesn't come with any responsibility! :-)

Tuesday Evening, August 14

1) The feeling of physical and emotional heaviness.

2) Today I finished Ward Morehouse III's The Waldorf-Astoria: America's Gilded Dream, rather a corporate hagiography gilded with some interesting social history about the iconic 20th-century hotel. Reading the chapter on the famous April in Paris Ball brought me uncomfortably back to the days of my youth, when grand events were so much a part of what I wanted to do. All the lists of the powerful patronesses, the chinchilla coats and cases of rare wines raffled off, the logistics of getting Elsa Maxwell and an elephant into the grand ballroom, trying to color-coordinate the toilet paper (which they attempted in 1961) . . . it just underscored not only how much my work has changed in the last five years, but how far my desires and interests have moved to a different part of the spectrum.

3) I am my own scullion.

BONUS: This afternoon a friend liked several - well I won't say old - several photos posted some years ago on ye Fycebykke, and it's been quite a surprise to see people getting interested in them.

Tuesday Morning, August 14

1) According to the Tuesday Briefing in the Times, today is the 48th anniversary of the opening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I will never forget the first time I saw it, during Thanksgiving break of 1981 in Detroit - the first time I'd ever been to a theatre that confiscated switchblades in the lobby. I really had no idea what to expect, especially all the costumes - color me naive! - but what I remember most is a woman behind me who screamed "WHERE'S YOUR FUCKIN' NECK?!" every time the Criminologist came on screen, when I couldn't understand what he was saying in the first place anyway.

2) Coffee in bed, which I haven't done in a long time.

3) Technically right now I'm reading five different books: Doctor Zhivago, The History of White Trash in America, The Waldorf-Astoria: America's Gilded Dream, a history of the Stork Club, and a book about political risk theory I checked out of the Athenaeum on Saturday.

Monday, August 13 - A 15th Anniversary

1) Fifteen years ago today I closed on and moved into my home in ye Jymyica Plynne, Maison Robaire. There have been some typical Adventures in Home Ownership along the way, including a couple burst hot water heaters, a middle-of-the-night leak in my bedroom closets that originated on the roof, a bathroom renovation during which I had a colonoscopy (not recommended), the Winter of 2015, and, most memorably, getting locked out in my pajamas with a migraine and having to have a neighbor boost me through a bay window after slicing the screen off.

1a) There have been some wonderful roommates along the way, too, and the Final Roommate, who was not. But all of them made positive contributions to the household in one way or another.

1b) To quote the Bad Baroness in The Sound of Music, "And I do give some rather gay parties!"

2) This is the first of the Three Fifteens, because in 2003 I had three big life events within three months. This year is the 15th anniversary of buying my home, of leaving the Pastel Prison to return to ye Instytytte, and of my 40th birthday.

3) Maison Robaire has been my home longer than any other one place except my childhood home, and in two years it'll surpass that. So grateful that things have worked out for me to be here.

Thursday, August 9 - A List

Scribbled into a notebook between meetings today, in order:

World cruise
— as a speaker?
— speak to [Insert Name of Cruise Speaker Here]
Switzerland
South Beach diet
Yoga
Guadeloupe
Invitation from English friends to Warwickshire
Crete
Delos!
[Insert Name of Artist] in Mexico City
California beaches
[Insert Name of FB Friend Here]
Chicago
Afternoon tea
Stretch
[Insert Name of Friend Here]
[Censored]
Instagram?
Printer and laptop
Charleston
Savannah
Write the Book!

Wednesday, August 8

1) Because of the Comm. Ave. road work this week, I've altered my commute to Mass. Ave. and the CT1 or #1 bus. The bonus today: catching up with a rarely-seen colleague, and then completing the last leg of the commute with her and a third colleague in a glamorous Yber!

2) There are three prominent expatriates of Lago di Carlo living in Boston (in random order): myself, the Political Insider, and the Church Organist. The former's family and my mother's family have been friendly for generations, but the latter and I moved in completely different circles; in fact, we only met several years ago here in Boston. Today he and I got to catch up over lunch at ye Eastyrn Styndyrd, celebrating our shared cultural heritage with iced tea and central air conditioning, and comparing notes and old movies over cheeseburgers. It's the best thing that could have happened today.

3) Led a brainstorm in the afternoon to get more WOW and WHIZ-BANG into some of our reunion programs.

Sunday, August 5

1) Finally getting back into a routine after the last odd week of working from home and jury duty and being sick. One of my informal resolutions this year is just to start the day if I find myself awake after 5:00 AM. At 5:13 I had to roll over like a drooling stone, but by 5:38 I was ready to haul my drooling-stone self into the kitchen to start the coffee.

2) Domesticity, creativity, and Weekend at the Waldorf.

3) About 2 PM I got invited to a rooftop view of a neighborhood music festival in Fort Hill at 5, and that motivated me to plow through more stuff on my list. The pace quickened!

4) Nearly through with Madeleine Albright's Fascism: A Warning, and I'm going to have to begin it again as soon as I finish it. I believe every American citizen should read this book!

5) My toxic thumb can't grow anything but weeds, so I am always impressed by successful gardeners. The Fort Hill Skybox featured beautiful little sunflowers, petunias, coleus, and morning glory vines trained on strings against a chimney.

6) Some sort of a cocktail with gin, fresh grapefruit juice, and Campari.

7) Blazing hot sun, conversation, tiny dogs, and good jazz off in the park.

8) Now . . . well, I know parts of this house are cleaner than hitherto, but somehow I feel like I have just as much to do now . . .

Saturday Morning, August 4

1) I dreamt that a software application was following my every move, and I could watch its progress on my computer screen. Real-time aerial footage of streetscapes with a green dot for my location. "Robert, it looks like you're trying to summon a cab," etc. etc. And I thought "I never even wanted this software in the first place!" and tried to figure out how to get rid of it.

2) Coffee is the key to the shackles of my fatigue so that I can achieve the desires of my spirit.

3) Back porch coffee on a glorious calm summer morning - not what I expected, since there wsa rain in the forecast yesterday. #nocomplaints

Friday Evening, August 3 - Le Weekend Commence

1) My nose is full of oysters. This cold needs to end. Blah blah blah.

2) I must say, reading about this QYnyn stuff is more interesting with the soundtrack of Liquid Sky in the background.

2a) But seriously, that article kept me conjuring up the next American civil war. Hear now the words of Joy Page in Casablanca: "It is very bad there, Monsieur. The devil has the people by the throat."

3) OK, P'towners: who did, or did not, get tickets to the White Party?

Thursday Night, August 2

1) This cold will NOT end. Woke up feeling horrible and stayed home. The one change I've noticed is that I can drink cold water without it feeling like drinking sandpaper.

2) Alan Hollinghurst's The Swimming-Pool Library makes good sick day reading.

3) Jury duty and a cold are inauspicious starts to my favorite month. Hoping things become better!

Wednesday Night, August 1

Discover & share this Maudit GIF with everyone you know. GIPHY is how you search, share, discover, and create GIFs.

It's been awhile! Let's have some catch-up:

1) A two-day trial for jury duty finished today, my second service as a jury foreman. A criminal trial, we acquitted on the one count. Without going into detail, I can only hope the defendant finds a less criminal element to hang around with in the future.

1a) This may be the fifth jury on which I've served; at least two of my five fellow jurors had never served before. One had a J.D. degree, which made me wonder why she wasn't chosen as forewoman. She'd've done a much better job.

1b) An emergency is when an ambulance needs to be called. An emergency is not when there is no gluten-free lunch available. Let's choose our words a little more carefully, yes?

1c) I could feel myself veering into Old Fart territory when the discussion in the jury room (not during the deliberations) turned to the use of pronouns.

1d) What is so valuable about jury deliberations, though, is that everyone noticed different things. One juror picked up on the dynamic between one attorney and one witness that made me see their interactions in a different way.

2) Each day after jury duty I came home, flopped down on the bed and slept soundly for two hours. This cold just will not end! As Greta Garbo said in either Grand Hotel or Camille, "I was ffrrrrrrrraaannnnnntick!" at points during the trial trying to suppress my coughing.

3) Among other things, I'm in the middle of both Doctor Zhivago and The Swimming-Pool Library. Somehow this is the right time to revisit both those novels.

Monday Night, July 30

1) Thirty-five years ago today my sweet gramma died at the age of 81. So I have been thinking about her some today among the work emails and The Swimming-Pool Library and Doyle's and the fire alarm going off (more on that in a moment). And especially the music she and I would play for each other. I will leave you only with this Schubert impromptu; someplace I have the sheet music.

2) Twice within 20 or 30 minutes this evening the smoke alarms went off in the building, which has never happened while I've been at home. Long story short, after a lot of emailing, texting, phone calling, knocking on doors, and stepstools, the alarm just in front of my front door seemed to be the culprit. Solution: press the test button. So glad the house didn't burn down or that we're all dead in our beds of carbon monoxide poisoning,

3) Jury duty tomorrow, downtown courthouse. My throat feels absolutely raw because of this cold - drinking a glass of cold water is like drinking sandpaper - so let's hope I don't become Typhoid Harry of the Courts.

PINK LEOPARD SKIN WRAPPING PAPER FROM THE 1980s!

"Smart girl. Nothing like being 22." - Joe Gillis to Betty Schaeffer in Sunset Boulevard

"When we were in Burma . . . when we were young . . when such much more exciting things were happening than have ever happened to you, who think you are fin de siècle . . . " from The Lacquer Lady by F. Tennyson Jesse

Earlier this month I visited my mother for a week to "go through the house." Anyone who's been through this type of exercise before knows that the Unexpected is only one case, box, or envelope away. My sister and I uncovered treasures, horrors, and ennui - the former capped by a box of beautiful bits of china from my grandmother's collection, the latter most evident in boxes of 20th-century bank statements.

Two unremembered boxes of my own were discovered in the attic (without bank statements). Among the detritus of 30 years ago, carefully preserved at the bottom of a cardboard box with a wide bottom, were three or four sheets of pink leopard skin wrapping paper. Insert Metaphor for Magic Carpet Here, 'cause they took me right back to who and where I was when.

The 1980s. Boston. College. Auditions, April, 1982. The Holiday Inn near Harvard with square bathtubs. Nearly having my pocket picked on the subway. Faneuil Hall Marketplace when Fiorucci, Greetings R.s.v.p. and Goods were still there. Goods! Goods was the best! And on Newbury Street, Greetings, Jules, High Society, and Blue Moon (the vintage store).

I remember things I purchased at Faneuil Hall on that first visit. A white cotton sweater. A silver ear cuff. (That look just didn't work for me.) And a lot of silly buttons that I still have someplace, including one of a smiley face with a bloody bullet hole between the eyes. I covered the lapels of my overcoat with those buttons. Somewhere (unfortunately) there is still a Polaroid of me taken in some tourist booth at the marketplace, wearing that overcoat, a vintage green and blue polka-dotted silk shirt, Dorothy Hamill's hair, and the village idiot's smile. I almost hope I never find it . . .

But Goods was where I found the pink leopard skin wrapping paper. Goods! What a fantastic little store of necessary oddities - but the chiefest of these was a roll of pink leopard skin wrapping paper. I needed it - needed - to wrap a wedding gift for a college friend getting married in another city. It was so important to be out of the ordinary, and this was so unlike anything else ever created. Mother talked me out of bringing it to the wedding - she was appalled by the idea of the wrapping paper, but also of actually bringing a gift to the wedding. The night of the wrapping paper I met a party of women who became friends, one of whom introduced me to The Lacquer Lady quoted above; the other I'm still in touch with today. It's funny how you meet people and they enter the weaving of your life's tapestry - and later leave or stay part of the design.

Actually, that's 1984, the year of my first apartment away from home. On the back side of Beacon Hill, the side where the Brahmins did NOT live. A fourth-floor walk-up with dozens of visible cockroaches, a fire escape, a futon on the floor, hippie bedspreads from high school, no air-conditioning, and an absent roommate who left his cat, Columbo, for me to take care of. That year, the year it was already too late say that you'd read Orwell's novel. The year turquoise blue was so fashionable. The year of Romancing the Stone. The year I was dragged to just about every screening there was at the Coolidge's Japanese film festival. Seeing Liquid Sky at the Orson Welles in Central Square at the midnight show. "Sweet Dreams Are Made of This." Madonna's "Bordeline."

Beacon Hill. Summer. Unspeakably hot for someone who grew up in central air conditioning. Trying to learn to cook and discovering thyme. Working at a Prominent Doughnut Chain behind the counter, and later, much more happily, at the Vendome. Walking home after midnight through either the North End or the Public Garden without too much fear. Living in the closet without really understanding what it was. Stretching out on the fire escape outside my bedroom window at night, peering down into the bedroom of a man two floors below . . .

What do I miss about the 80s? Color! Gawd, the original Calvin Klein briefs in shocking colors with white waistbands. The second floor of Jordan Marsh. Art Deco Revival. Shoulder pads. Pin-striped double-breasted suits with pleated pants. Skinny ties. Willi Smith. I miss my waistline! I think I still have my first Calvin Klein suit (1983), double-breasted pinstripes with shoulder pads. Now it's shiny as a stove pipe and the last time I even pretended to squeeze into it I couldn't get the closure past my hip bones.

On a family trip to the Magic Kingdom, July, 1982 or 1983. Note the cutout neck of the T-shirt and blame Flashdance.

I think about who I was then: thin to gawkiness (I miss the thin part!), unmistakably blond. Loud! Unseeing, uncomprehending. Alternately poised and oblivious. Lost, determined to get out of the ordinary, but without direction. Definitely fearful. Letting fear and mistrust keep me from taking advantage of my youth. Making some very bad fashion choices - as who does not?

This talisman has made me look back at the enthusiasms and fears of a part of my life I just haven't thought about in such a long time. I don't know how that makes me feel when I compare it to where I am now.

* As it happens, I never sent the wedding gift - a pair of Farberware candlesticks from Blue Moon that I still use - and decades later I learned the marriage didn't last either.

Friday, July 27 - It's a Ceauld

1) Wednesday evening I went to a beautiful little dinner party at the spacious home of friends in the Mysse Hylle section of JP, in honor of a mutual friend visiting from out of town. One of the guests was staying only through drinks because of a cold.

1a) Yesterday after a late lunch with a volunteer I was not feeling well and went home to sleep for a shocking two hours. I awoke with the beginnings of a scratchy throat, and this morning one swallow told me that the summer cold was now visiting me.

2) Immediately I remembered dialogue from Rope:

Mrs. Wilson (the chatty housekeeper): "Well I hope she's staying in bed with plenty of fruit juice."

Mr. Kentley (the repressive Sir Cedric Hardwicke): "She is, thank you."

Mrs. Atwater (the deliciously vague Constance Collier): "Ceaulds dehngerous in this heat. Ey'll nevah undahstehnd thet etahl."

3) I will be staying at home today, without fruit juice, gargling with hot salt water and not attending a midday gathering for which I took today as a vacation day. :-(

Wednesday Midday, July 25

1) Back porch coffee this morning yielded the unwelcome vision of a rat (no, not a squirrel, a rat!) scuttling along the base of the back fence. Faugh! I rose as it turned toward the house, the filthy thing, causing it to make a sharp turn into the big black rat trap box against the fence - from which it kept emerging to see if I was gone! Faugh!

2) Today's Shakespearean insult (from my Daily Shakespearean Insult calendar, a Christmas gift from Oldest Nephew Who Must Not Be Tagged): "There's no trust, no faith, no honesty in men. All perjured, all foresworn, all naught, all dissemblers." - Romeo and Juliet

3) Whoever brought the fried honey cookies from Korea into the office, thank you. I had the second-to-last one in the box, and it was OK.

Saturday Afternoon, July 21 - Provincetown, Day One

1) What a slugabed! Even though I was awake, I was so comfortably snuggled into the covers I didn't crawl out until I realized it was after 8:30 AM.

2) A leisurely breakfast with my hosts, and leisurely conversation - and in my inmost soul, a reluctance to commit to any plans. And the realization that I didn't come all the way down here to hang out on ye Fycebykke all day!

3) In spite of the two anvils I carried down here, I forgot a couple necessities and had to ankle down Comical Street. Always interesting to see the changes in the retail landscape. One shop has changed owners and, I'm sorry to say, their product mix no longer caters to my demographic. A couple other places have had some welcome facelifts.

The most mysterious house in Provincetown is getting a new roof!

4) Because one of my three favorite things to do in Provincetown is go to Tim's Used Books, I stopped in before lunch.

One of my favorite views in Provincetown, the entrance to Tim's Used Books.

4a) Tim was not in, darn it, but as usual, I found a book that spoke to me. No, it wasn't the one about prostitution in 19th-century Paris or the biography of Anthony Eden. It's a 1991 history of the Waldorf-Astoria, and as soon as I saw the cover I could hear the opening credits of Weekend at the Waldorf, so I knew it had to be mine.

5) Lunch at ye Ryss's Grylle with my Romance Writer friend, so lots of good talk about writing, summer life on the Cape, books, and friends in common.

6) The sky is clouding up, and I am letting myself use that as an excuse not to go to the beach. Shocking! But I'd rather be at the beach rather than go to the beach. #naptime

Wednesday, July 18 - Travel Day

1) Twenty minutes after getting out of bed I'd stripped the bed, started a load of wash, emptied all the trashcans in the house, took out the trash, and put the latest batch of "Please remove from mailing list" letters in the mailbox.

2) The last day at home is always a flurry of last-minute packing and going through the house to be sure that anything out of place is put away or tossed out. I get very focused on these things, so I'm not always able to pull away.

3) Ten minutes before departure Mother asked me "Robert, can you give me some advice about what to do with this closet?" It was a large closet with a LOT of paperwork in it - and I was already focused on not being late to the airport - so we're gonna have to tackle that later.

4) Mother and I had our photo op at the airport and then I watched her drive off. It was a really good week, and I'm going to miss her.

5) Security took forever, a rarity at LCH. I think they might have been training new staff.

6) The only two things remarkable about my flights home were a) a 20-minute stop-in at my beloved Pappadeaux, and b) some pleasant conversation with my seatmate.

7) And now, HOME! It's great to be here again.