Hallowe'en Morning, 2021 - What Was That?!

1) Snug in my bed, half awake and half dreaming, barely a sliver of streetlight shining through the curtains — suddenly there was a crash! And the sound of breakage!

1a) The classic narration continues with “A door slammed. The maid screamed.” But it was nothing like that.

2) Something had happened, and though I was loath to leave my bed, I knew I had to investigate. As I slipped on a shirt, I remembered now it is Hallowe’en!

3) From room to room I crept, shoulders tense. I put on a pair of shoes in the kitchen, remembering the sound of breaking glass. The clock on the stove said 4:41 AM.

4) Had it come from the pantry? I had to open the door to find out! No, everything was as I left it there. Switching on lights, nothing had altered the familiar disorder of the parlor, the bathroom, the study.

5) What had happened? Had some horrible rat crept back into this house and slithered among my grandmother’s china, wreaking havoc? The mind is not rational at 4:41 AM. Was it Weeping Baby Pumpkin Head?! DEAR GOD, NOT THAT!

6) Finally, on the floor of the dining room, a long orange tube on the carpet. What on earth? Oh! A taper! Two tapers! Yesterday I had fitted some orange candles into that big brass candelabra for Hallowe’en, and two of them had fallen out of their holders. The breakage I heard was one of the little bobeches, its small shards scattered on the floor.

7) Phew, mystery solved! I picked up the broken glass and returned to bed. What a way to start Hallowe’en.

RBD Version 1.59, Activate!

1) This second birthday during COVID stole over me gently like a slow and shallow tide on a flat beach. I could see it coming, but I wasn’t particularly alarmed or excited about it. But don’t get me wrong — I haven’t stopped loving my birthday! Along with New Year’s Eve, October 28 has its own unique radiance.

1a) This year that radiance was very much tinted by all the people I couldn’t be with in person — and of course when I say all you know very well I mean everyone I’ve ever met in my entire life.

2) Three scheduled activities occupied my day, one of which had nothing to do with my birthday. In the late morning a very dear friend called for coffee with half a dozen assorted doughnuts from Kane’s. We had a good old-fashioned visit in my parlor for almost two hours; it was like the Before Times.

2a) But the sugar content in that one chocolate glazed doughnut left me — how shall I say this? — sharpened by a halo of sugary spears, and I was more than relieved when I found an acetomenophan (sp?) in the house. Oof!

3) In the late afternoon I attended a Zoom retirement party for a friend and former colleague at ye Instytytte. Something like 100 attendees, and so many friendly and familiar faces in all those little boxes — just not possible to reach out to every one. This event created a cozy screen of happy memories I felt I hadn’t accessed in awhile.

4) Early in the evening I gathered at ye South Ynde Byttery for a little birthday dinner with three friends. Early because I’d asked to dine outside due to COVID, and it’s getting chilly. This turned out to be the perfect evening to launch my Venetian tabarro for the season, and I must say, it’s perfect for al fresco dining in the autumn.

4a) And a very good dinner: devils on horseback, Faroe Island salmon, a quantity of rosé, and then chocolate mousse (their only dessert) and apologies from the waitress that “our birthday candles were taken away.”

4b) Suddenly I jumped out of my skin when I felt a hand clap down on my shoulder. When you’re dining outside in the South End with your back to the sidewalk, well . . . it could be anybody. In this case, anybody was the beaming face and person of my friend Jim, walking home from a meeting, and a true pleasure to see him it was.

5) I didn’t get onto ye Fycebykke until late in the afternoon — let’s face it, I am just not spending much time there now — but in a shameless bid for attention I did put up a post and a story on Etiquetteer’s Ynstagrym. And it was indeed gratifying! And there were private messages, and replies to photos — every year I love reading and responding to everyone — and in real life, birthday cards, phone calls, one friend singing Happy Birthday on video, another on Facetime, and anxiety from my English friends about a parcel that hasn’t yet arrived.

5a) But the overall impression (looking back a day later) was of a cascade of names, impressions, memories, happinesses — but just out of reach in a shimmering wall. What is that wall? COVID, geographic distance, change of different kinds (routine, circumstance, position), and sometimes preference. It is keeping me from a peopled life, at least during the pandemic.

5b) I would just love to have gathered these hundreds of friends, colleagues, cousins together for one Big Occasion. I am like my Granny Dimmick that way; we both loved having a lot of people around.

6) And speaking of Granny, it was only fitting that at about 11 PM I got a text: “Are you at home by yourself?” About five minutes later my fun-loving Crazy Cousines from Atlanta called with a rendition of Happy Birthday delivered with their traditional brio. Absolutely wonderful!

7) On a more introspective note, Version 1.59 has to clean up a lot of bugs from, say, Version 1.5 through Version 1.58. It is a terrible thing to reach this age and delve into etiquette books only to be confronted by the enormity of one’s failings. (No, I am not talking about setting the table wrong. Oh no.) Queen Gertrude’s words come back to me a lot right now: “Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;/And there I see such black and grainéd spots/As will not leave their tinct.” Reprogramming the software to prevent error repetition feels like a big job.

8) I am at least still privileged, as I like to say at my parties, to know only the Very Best People. Of course that means YOU! I sure hope you can be with me in two years when I launch Version 1.40.a.

Friday Morning, 22 October -- Catch-up

1) The P’town Housemate tipped me off last week that Boston Opera Collaborative was performing in my Happy Place, Forest Hills Cemetery. This resulted in the equation Opera + Happy Place = Attendance. The resulting program, The Lives They Lived, featured seven singers at the graves of seven (more, actually) prominent women and men, singing relevant songs from a wide range of material. Some of the permanent residents I knew about already: sculptor Martin Milmore, e.e. cummings, Elma Lewis, etc. Others I did not: actress Fanny Davenport, composer Amy Beach, and a very distant cousin, Dr. Susan Dimock, who founded what became Dimock Community Health Center.

Vissi d’arte.

1a) Again, the repertoire went everywhere, from “Vissi d’arte” to “Defying Gravity” to “Someone to Watch Over Me” to — oh damn, some piece sung in German by I think Gounod. The singers all performed with pre-recorded piano accompaniment — tech difficulties only snagged the show once — but it was so powerful to hear these works outside when one can only accept the additional sounds of wind, of traffic, of the cemetery bell tower chiming every 15 minutes. And indeed, a couple times the distant sound of soloists in other parts of the cemetery! I was charmed by the entire exercise, and I hope they’ll do it again.

1b) And I noted that they specified in more than one place that there was no seating and if you wanted to bring a folding lawn chair (and carry it yourself), you could. The number of times, back in the day, that I had to say “It is actually a walking tour so there will not be any place to sit down . . . “

With Catherine and Michael on the Greenway, Custom House Tower in the background.

2) The appearance of blood relations in the city is always a cause for rejoicing — nobody in the family ever makes it this far Northeast — so for a couple months I had been eagerly anticipating the arrival of cousin Catherine and her son Michael from Out West to look at colleges. I hadn’t seen Catherine in roughly 20 years, and I’d never met Michael. Essentially we spent about eight hours walking on Tuesday, including a private tour of MIT, both Mass. Ave. and Longfellow bridges, Beacon Hill, and Back Bay. Today is Friday, and I think my body is still recovering. #agingactressyesterdaysglamourqueen

2a) We met again the next afternoon, after their scheduled activities, to look over Faneuil Hall, the waterfront, the Greenway, eat lobster at Legal’s, and then stroll the North End, which was as picturesque as all getout and crowded with people.

2b) For the genealogically minded, Catherine is my second cousin once removed. Her mother, Alice, is my second cousin, our common ancestor being our great-grandmother Alice Vivian, who ran the boardinghouse in New Orleans. This makes Michael my second cousin twice removed.

2c) Talk of family of course permeated the entire visit, and it did underscore for me how most of the family I know are No Longer With Us, and how few of the Younger Generations I actually know personally. I could always rely on Mother to maintain those relationships and that information . . . and of course she is No Longer With Us.

3) Now I have returned to the Cape for the final week of my summer/fall share. We have come to the part of the year when you definitely cannot assume that a particular business will be open. Including the ferry, so I took the bus down yesterday afternoon. Half the price of the ferry, but just over twice as long. The benefit was the sunset view over the bay (see above) — for me totally worth the price of admission.

3a) At the moment the weather is beautiful, but rain is forecast later in the week. Close friends will be down for the weekend, a rare chance for us all to be together. Anxiety about global and national situations seems to fill me as much as the sunshine; my insides must be like the yin/yang symbol. All I can do at this point is to celebrate this day for itself.

Tuesday Morning, 19 October

1) Back in bed with the dregs of my second cup of coffee after a successful dinner for four last night. It was going to be five, but someone cancelled that morning. At first I felt annoyance, then compassion (I’ve had those days and have certainly cancelled at the last minute myself), and then the relief of “Oh, four is much easier than five.”

1a) One of the guests said “gluten free,” so I experimented with this recipe for a pan of chicken, potatoes, and green beans, followed by salad, and almost every single one of the Burdick’s Hallowe’en chocolates Laura sent early for my birthday. The potatoes could have used another five to ten minutes in the oven, in my view.

1b) And for a rarity, I was actually able to follow Mrs. Beeton’s old maxim “Clean as you go.” Between getting dinner in the oven and the arrival of the first guests I was able to wash up almost everything in the sink, which means all I have to deal with this morning is one pan, one spatula, and the glasses. I call that winning.

2) Today is both Grampa’s birthday and Cousin Susan’s, may they both rest in peace. It is pleasant to remember them and how special they remain.

3) Awkwardness between me and an IG follower who was maybe starting to get a little too close resulted in me putting up a couple boundaries, and then learning that the follower is, in fact, not just some rando but a close internet friend of another friend of mine for five years. So . . . still awkward, but now with reassuring references.

Friday Morning, 15 October

1) Parlor coffee and devotional. Mother’s Bible opened to Psalm 88, which includes this verse: “Friends and neighbors thou hast put far from me, and mine acquaintances thou hast kept away from me.” How very appropriate for the pandemic.

2) No one has done any significant gardening or yard work this summer, and it appears we have nearly a field of some weed with wooly-looking lavender caterpillars on it growing beside the house and in back, spiked here and there with china asters. I can’t decide if I like it or not.

2a) That said, it is astonishing the height and tenacity to which a weed can grow. A week or so ago I vigorously ripped out a stand of weeds just over half my height near the front of the house. I won, but it was a battle!

3) The stack of unread books in my parlor has grown by two. In P’town last week I picked up Jet Set: The People, the Planes, the Glamour, and the Romance of Aviation’s Glory Years, by William Stadiem. This week H sent me a new novel for my birthday, The Fortnight in September, by R.C. Sherriff.

Tuesday Morning, 12 October -- Home Again

1) Returned home yesterday on the last ferry of the 2021 Provincetown season. While we had been sent a Rough Seas Advisory the day before, I didn’t find Cape Cod Bay dramatically rougher than usual. I will miss the view of the Cape and of the city from the water. Each is a beautiful place I love.

2) Immediately on walking into the door, I plunged myself into a Zoom meeting and a manhattan, and later into a large pepperoni, mushroom, and black olive pizza (most delicious, but most unwise).

3) This morning I have been up since before 7, feeling like I had to push the boulder of Sisyphus up the hilltop with my nose. Catching up on media intake, mostly via Twitter (most interesting, but most unwise), but with the food-for-thought bonus of the Now & Then podcast co-hosted by historian Joanne B. Freeman. It was her book Field of Blood: Violence in Congress at the Road to Civil War that I found so necessary, but so difficult, to read. The podcast is worth your time.

Long Point in the silvery blaze of afternoon.

Saturday MIdday, 2 October

1) You might say I’m having a slow-moving day after a late, but lovely, dinner last night with an Interlochen friend and his husband in town from the West. 9 PM, Petit Robert, French 75s, oysters, steak frites, lemon almond tart. We chatted about Palm Springs, child stars of yore, the local university scene, and dogs, since they were all around us.

2) Now that October has begun and the pumpkins are up from the cellar, I can start putting the old scary movies on regularly: Bela Lugosi’s Dracula, Frederic March’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde, and my beloved 1943 Phantom of the Opera with Claude Rains, Nelson Eddy, Susanna Foster, and Hume Cronyn as the second detective.

2a) Last year I got The Mask of Fu Manchu with Boris Karloff, Myrna Loy, Karen Morley, beautiful but dumb Charles Starrett, and that dude who plays the angry preacher in Shanghai Express. But sweet mercy goodness, it’s not an easy film to watch (for a lot of different reasons), and I doubt I’ll watch it again this year. I don’t recommend it.

3) I have another brief spell in Provincetown next week, and it looks like I’ll be on the last ferry of the season when I return on Columbus Day. I am so grateful and pleased to have the chance to spend part of the autumn there, but it looks like I’ll have to take the bus for my final week.

Thursday Morning, 30 September - Chill in the Air

1) I should be taking advantage of today’s glorious autumn weather to enjoy the Robert B. Dimmick Memorial Banquette West, but the neighbors are taking advantate of today’s glorious autumn weather to continue reroofing their garage, so the atmosphere is, um, active. I must consider an alternative.

2) Last night I dined with a friend curbside at Little Bobby’s: gnocchi with duck for me, followed by a small lemon almond tart. I’d thought about starting with oysters (a new interest), but my friend evinced more interest in the sweeter side of the menu. And that’s just fine!

3) If you’ve got a good recipe for pork roast, please let me know.

Tuesday Morning, 28 September -- The Unread

Because a week and a half ago I picked up Palladian Days: Finding a New Life in a Venetian Country House at the Provincetown Library book sale and whooshed right through it, I am suddenly taking a long look at the very large quantity of unread books in my parlor. Some have recently come to me, others have languished here for years. During the pandemic many of them have served as my tripod for Facetime and Zoom calls. What’s in the stack? Let’s take a look!

• The Worlds of Lincoln Kirstein , by Martin Duberman. Just picked up for $5 at Brattle Books yesterday. I tried to read one of Kirstein’s books years ago, but damn, he is the most prolix and dense writer. On the other hand, I’ve always loved Duberman’s Stonewall, and Kirstein did put himself in the center of all that was both modern and good in the mid-century. I’m eager to get to this.

• White Trash: The 400-Year Untold History of Class in America, by Nancy Isenberg. Technically I am halfway through this, but I started it — hell, I don’t even remember when, it’s been that long — so I’ll probably just have to start over at the beginning.

• Contagious: Why Things Catch On, by Jonah Berger. Looked interesting at Strand Books on a trip to New York at least two years ago.

• Civility: Manners, Morals, and the Etiquette of Democracy, by Stephen L. Carter. I don’t remember when I got this at Brattle Books, but it’s the kind of thing Etiquetteer ought to be reading.

• Venice Incognito: Masks in the Serene Republic, by James H. Johnson. One of the many wonderful books I was given in 2013 before my trip to Venice — so many I am still reading my way through, and loving them.

• The Ceremonial City: History, Memory and Myth in Renaissance Venice, by Iain Fenlon. Same.

• When I Knew, edited by Robert Trachtenberg. “A collection of smart, hilarious, and often poignant stories about that revelation for all gay men and women: when they first knew.” Come to think of it, I can’t remember when I first knew . . .

• ITEMS: Is Fashion Modern?, by Paola Antonelli and Michelle Millar Fisher. I loved this exhibition at MoMA, and had a few ideas for columns from it that, alas, died on the vine.

• Nightwork, by Joseph Hansen. The seventh of the Dave Brandstetter mysteries. I was introduced to this series back in college, but apparently never read past the fifth one.

• Good-Bye to All That, “Written, Art Directed, and Produced by Harris Lewine, Designed by Alan Peckolick.” I got this — I don’t know what it is, an anecdotal history of cigarettes? — at Brattle Books because I loved the design of it and the way it felt in my hands. But it does feel rather confusing, trying to read it.

• Less, by Andrew Sean Greer. H. gave me this for Christmas, 2019 — he always manages to find me perfect books, but sometimes they have to sit with me awhile before I can absorb them in the right spirit. I got up to the point where the protagonist got on the wrong airport shuttle in Italy and had to put it down. But I know I’ll come back to it. (I did the same thing with Atlas Shrugged, which I read for Daddy in college because he admired Ayn Rand so much.)

• The Collected Stories of Jean Stafford. Another H. Christmas gift, from 2020. He chose her novel Boston Adventure for me, which was SO GOOD, so I know this will be wonderful.

• White People Do Not Know How to Behave at Entertainments Designed for Ladies & Gentlemen of Colour: William Brown’s African and American Theatre, by Marvin McAllister. A forgotten episode in the American theatre of the 1820s, discovered at Brattle Books.

• The Age of Living Machines: How Biology Will Build the Next Technology Revolution, by Susan Hockfield. Sent me by the Koch Institute after I introduced Susan at an online program about this book in 2020. I sometimes surprise myself with interest in science-oriented things (e.g. the history of aniline dyes, ginseng cultivation in West Virginia, the use of poison at the court of Louis XIV), so this is likely to be good.

• The Lucius Beebe Reader, from my West Coast friend Will, who was introduced to me by our mutual friend Carl. Beebe was a true bon viveur, not to mention his connection with Brennan’s in New Orleans and its Breakfast at Brennan’s cookbook.

• Mrs. Jack, by Louise Hall Tharp. Craig just gave me this paperback edition (with an Avenue Victor Hugo pricetag on it) of this biography of Isabella Stewart Gardner, which I’ve never happened to read. The cover art makes her look impossibly beautiful, whereas we all know she was one homely girl . . . but with exquisite taste.

• Jock’s Island, by Elizabeth Coatsworth. I snatched up this $1.00 paperback at a junk shop in Gloucester less to read this children’s book than to share it with my friend Liz. Elizabeth Coatsworth just happens to be her grandmother . . .

• I Heard the Owl Call my Name, by Margaret Craven. “The gentle bestseller that is sweeping the world,” a novel about a younger priest near the end of his life being sent to a new calling in Alaska. Found this at Mother’s and the first couple chapters compelled me sufficiently to take it when we were cleaning out the house.

• Center Center: A Funny, Sexy, Sad Almost-Memoir of a Boy in Ballet, by James Whiteside. Just got this through Papercuts JP, my neighborhood independent bookstore. James was in the apprentice company when I worked at the Ballet, and has since become a superstar in more realms than dance. I am eager to read his story of how he did it!

• Stupid Things I Won’t Do When I Get Old, by Steven Petrow. Dan Post Senning interviewed the author on the Awesome Etiquette podcast, which is how I heard about this book. Having seen so many examples in my reunion days of the kind of old man I don’t want to be, I really want to leap into this soon.

• A Field Guide to Whiskey, by Hans Offringa. It came in a package from Bespoke Post.

• Witches and Warlocks of Massachusetts: Legends, Victims, and Sinister Spellcasters, by Peter Muise. My dear friend Peter’s new book is wonderful — I’m actually halfway through it — and I’m seeing my home state (Louisiana is my native state) in a new, deeper way. It’s also a lot of fun. Ordered through Papercuts JP, which I hope is stocking it now.

• Red Orchestra: The Story of the Berlin Underground and the Circle of Friends Who Resisted Hitler, by Anne Nelson. Found at Provincetown Library book sale this month. Discovering Missie Vassiltchikov’s Berlin Diaries over 25 years ago was a revelation, and this book will paint a broader picture of her circle.

• The Age of Decadence A History of Britain: 1880-1914, by Simon Heffer. Where did I just find this?! It’s a recent purchase. Tim’s Used Books? Simon Heffer, an author with whom I’m unfamiliar, has been on my mind ‘cause apparently he’s just edited the diaries of Chips Channon (who I don’t really know, but know enough that I want to know more). This book is so thick, as Laurie Anderson tells us, “it could stun an ox.”

Whew, mercy, two dozen books! That looks like it, at least in the parlor . . . of course I can’t start on any of them until I finish Joanne B. Freeman’s Field of Blood: Violence in Congress and the Road to Civil War. At last I’m 50 pages from the end (spoiler alert: they go to war) after a year or so. It is so valuable to read, but it’s not at all a comfortable read.

Saturday Midday, 25 September -- Retiree Stuff

1) I spent a sizeable part of yesterday morning calling Organizations That Send Bulk Rate Mail to get off their mailing lists. Already I have a great deal of experience with this task, having handled many such items for Mother. Poor thing, she received a daily avalanche of bulk rate trash, sometimes over 30 pieces a day. While the kinds of organizations mailing her are not the kind mailing me, her experience has prejudiced me against all of these bulk rate organizations, no matter how noble or urgent their causes.

1a) My desk drawer is filling with personalized address labels, just like Mother’s did. These organizations want to make you feel guilty enough to make a donation because they sent you a gift. I, however, feel no such guilt.

2) My new battery-operated bathroom scale arrived, and I’m delighted to report I’ve lost just about ten pounds from my starting weight (on the old scale) of 235 pounds. Interestingly, I seem to be down a pound or two almost every time I step on it. At this rate by New Year’s I’ll be down to my birth weight.

3) A friend recommended trying a wedge pillow to help with my ferocious snoring. While it’s still an adjustment learning to sleep on it, the snoring app I use is recording a dramatic reduction in frequency and volume. This may be the low-tech solution I need instead of a CPAP machine.

Monday, 20 September

1) Today was the sort of September beach day I’ve always longed for but rarely enjoyed. Blank blue sky, just enough clouds just far away enough to be interesting, not so much breeze to compromise the umbrella (unlike yesterday — what a sirocco!), not many people, a good book — perfection.

2) Sally Gable’s Palladian Days: Finding a New Life in a Venetian Country House continues to absorb me. To my surprise I’m about halfway through it! I’m going to have to learn a lot more about the Villa Cornaro, but several of the stories make me think twice about living as the Lord of the Manor. For instance, having the circuit breaker fail when you’re naked in the bathtub in pitch dark blackness, and you’re not quite sure where the circuit breaker is to begin with. Or discovering and killing three-inch scorpions throughout the house.

3) For awhile I thought the price of the day would be steep: my embossed silver pen on a chain, which I put on specially so I could write. At one point on the beach I realized it wasn’t around my neck. I couldn’t find it anywhere! And the worst words came from the Nice Man at the Counter at Gale Force: “No, I remember you had it on when you stopped by this morning.”

3a) Happily for me, I found it in a secret pocket inside my backpack, where I must have put it absentmindedly. So very relieved I won’t have to return next month with a rake!

Saturday, 18 September -- In Provincetown

1) The standard definition of New England weather — “if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes” — certainly applied yesterday. The day began with thick, unpromising fog, then gave way to blazing sun, then fog again, and so on, back and forth for the rest of the day. All of it was beautiful.

2) Lunch with Craig at Pepe’s Wharf, where we got one of the best tables on the upper deck. Sparkling rosé and lobster salad for me, and then coconut cake. The ladies at the next table got all excited about our desserts, and when someone asked “What cake is that?” I answered “Mine!”

3) After lunch, I had the sort of experience I could only share with Mother or Aunt Betty, because only they would truly appreciate it. The Provincetown Library was having its book sale in front of the library, so of course I had to browse through. Have you ever browsed through a used bookstore and found a book written by someone you knew? Well, there was the name Carl I. Gable on a book, and it just so happened that he came to the Dimmick-Evans family reunion in Atlanta way back in 1985. And this book, Palladian Days: Finding a New Life in a Venetian Country House, just happens to be by his wife Sally (who did not come to the reunion), and just happens to be about how they bought one of the most important surviving villas by Palladio a couple years after Carl attended our family reunion. I’m already finding it an absorbing read.

3a) Just how did Carl happen to attend that reunion, and how is he related to us? I feel sure that Aunt Betty had something to do with it, as she was the one in her generation most interested in genealogy. Mother would have been delighted with the whole experience of discovering the book and remembering that reunion meeting.

4) The fog returned early in the evening. It reinforced somehow how reluctant I’ve been to mix and mingle in a large way in Provincetown due to the pandemic. And that was underscored on Comical Street by two chance meetings with two dear friends I have barely seen in 18 months, and a near collision with two neighborhood acquaintances en route for takeout. Those unplanned, unexpected interactions fed my soul.

5) After dinner I unwisely got a hot fudge sundae and went to the end of MacMillan Pier to stare at the moon through the fog. At times it was amazingly sharp in detail, surrounded by a luminous ring; no photograph of mine could do it justice. But at the end of the pier, it was often almost completely shrouded from view.

5a) While there, I also saw the Salacious passing the jetty into the pier, a small collection of lights in the dark. I was very glad not to be embarking for a return trip!

6) This morning, Sunday, uncompromising sunshine has returned, but not sunny temperatures. The Housemate and I ended up discussing seasoning blends, of all things, over our coffee. My passing reference to herbes de Provence led to the Housemate sharing info about Ernest Hemingway’s hamburger recipe, which includes ingredients that are no longer manufactured like India relish, beau monde seasoning, and Mei Yen powder (which seems to be a mixture of salt and sugar with a bit of MSG mixed with a bit of soy sauce). So who knows where today will lead?!

Thursday Night, 16 September -- Songs of Jane Powell

1) A friend just tipped me off to the news that Jane Powell died today. I confess I’ve never paid much attention to her — my first memory of her is her guest appearance on Fantasy Island — but in the last few years some of her songs have become momentary obsessions.

I don’t really remember how I happened upon this clip of Jane in Three Daring Daughters*, but what struck me most was not her performance, but her resemblance to my Aunt M.F. when she was young. Like two peas in a pod . . .

Call me a heretic, but I just can’t stand Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. And even though I still haven’t seen all of A Date With Judy, another obsession was Jane’s rendition of “Love Is Where You Find It.” (Note also teenage Elizabeth Taylor and teenage Robert Stack.)

“Love Is Like This” from Nancy Goes to Rio occupied my head for a couple weeks, but now it feels a bit percussive to me. “And when you feel the glorious glow of someone’s ‘Hello,’ then your heart will know the meaning of bliss . . . for love is like this.”

Finalmente, her special appearance in Deep in my Heart singing “Sweetheart” from Sigmund Romberg’s Maytime with Vic Damone.

*My favorite number from Three Daring Daughters will always be Jeanette MacDonald singing “Where There’s Love.”

Thursday Midday, 16 September

1) Provincetown is wet and gray and forecast to remain so through Sunday. But I am not moping. This is a wonderful opportunity to plot out the next few months.

2) I hesitate to use the term “cosmic occurrences,” but there have been some interesting coincidences in the last week. For instance, wakeful in the night, my thoughts turned to an internet friend who had practically disappeared. One of the first IG posts I saw Wednesday morning was his first post in four months.

2a) On the ferry to Provincetown Wednesday afternoon, I saw a beautiful little sailboat zipping along at a fine clip, all sails unfurled, which made me wonder about a volunteer couple I knew well in my days at ye Instytytte. When I popped open my laptop after arriving at Casa Gizmo, one of the first emails I saw was from them!

2b) And when I went up to Gloucester last weekend, atop the dollar box in front of a used bookstore, was a paperback book written by the grandmother of a friend I haven’t seen in a very long time. I really need to call her.

3) The Bryvo Network show Below Deck seems to be taking hold here at Casa Gizmo, and I find myself getting interested a little against my will.

Tuesday Morning, 14 September -- Mostly the News

1) Yesterday evening I went into town to hang out with a friend — who does that any more? — who really wanted to talk about today’s mayoral and City Council primary elections. Who knew there were 17 candidates for the four at-large seats?! Read more about them here.

1a) Several people I know, and many neighbors, are all riding the Wu Train, but my vote is going to Andrea Campbell.

2) The Met Gala - who are these people anyway? America’s Best Christian Mrs. Betty Bowers is already comparing the exercise to Marie Antoinette having a party at Versailles, and considering the exuberant overindulgence on display, and the protesters who were arrested near the start of the event, it’s hard not to agree.

3) Today’s horoscope from Gold River Astrology makes sense for an election day: “Sun opposite Neptune challenges us to see the truth amidst our beliefs. Mars enters Libra: from now to 10/30, collaboration leads to progress. In the Chinese calendar, it's the best day of the week to carry out important tasks w/ the Ox trine the Rooster month.”

BONUS: WTF, Apple security update?! FREAKING OUT!

Thursday Midday, 9 September

1) After quite a bit of time away, on the Cape and in Vermont, I am enjoying time back in my home. Labor Day weekend at the Vermont home of friends rarely seen during the pandemic was really special and included the full spectrum of New England weather — blazing sunshine to stormy tempest — good cooking, All About Eve and Law of Desire, some light yoga and hiking, and the story of an ancient Egyptian amulet lost in the Vermont woods.

A riven tree on Putney Mountain, Vermont.

2) Yesterday afternoon I scanned through a lot of my old Etiquetteer columns and was struck by how very, very bad some of them are. Everyone’s style evolves; thank God mine has, and continues to.

3) Reading yesterday’s news about the removal of Robert E. Lee’s statue in Richmond made me think of my cousin Susan (may she rest in peace) and how she would have welcomed this development. One of the commenters on that article tried to point to Lee’s postwar achievements, citing his presidency of Washington College (now Washington and Lee University). Well, that’s nice, but a) I know I’m not the only American who didn’t already know that, and b) when that statue was erected in 1890, Lee was not depicted in an academic cap and gown but in his Confederate uniform astride his horse. it’s obvious that statue was not erected to celebrate Lee the Man but Lee the Rebel General.

3a) I remember when the memorial to Confederate POWs was removed from George’s Island in 2017 how one historian questioned why it was even there in the first place, and I just ferreted it out of the Globe’s archives: “The thing about the Georges Island plaque, it doesn’t say all that much, but in that regard it doesn’t add much either,” [Professor Nina Silber of Boston University] said. “In a sense, all it’s doing is allowing the United Daughters of the Confederacy to have a place of legitimacy in a national historic landmark. I see no reason why they should.” The Confederacy lost the Civil War and stood for principles that are antithetical to American values, Silber said. “The memorial might be innocuous,” she said, “but why give it a place?” [emphasis mine]

Thursday Morning, 2 September -- Back Home

1) Yesterday, after an uneventful ferry ride home, I was surprised to see a welcoming committee assembled on the neighbor’s picnic table as I walked by with my suitcase: a quartet of turkeys! Quite different from the pair of rabbits seen the night before in the garden of Casa Gizmo.

1a) Thank goodness I wasn’t wearing Nile green.

2) Yesterday, for the first time, I had to take a rapid antigen test at home (at the request of next weekend’s hosts, which I was happy to do). To spare any suspense, the result was negative, so I am cleared to go. In my naivete, I just expected to take the test and get the result. But no, the only tests available at the pharmacy I went to involved downloading an app, allowing notifications, and enabling Bluetooth. Insert the Usual Get Off My Lawn Whargarbbbbl Here. As soon as I got my negative test result I deleted the damn thing and rechecked phone settings in every possible place. In the future I’ll be looking out for the BinaxNOW text from Abbott, which doesn’t involve downloading anything.

3) Well, enough of that. Summarizing last week in Provincetown, it included three really nice beach days, one sick day (Thursday, after too much sun), The Splendid and the Vile, a surprise breakfast with two friends at a new-to-Provincetown French bakery, three good dinners out (Pepe’s Wharf a seul, The Patio with the Housemate, and Victor’s with Dartin), one middling dinner (Pilgrim House with Dartin), and an introduction to Below Deck Mediterranean that makes me want to see just how Lexi got fired.

Taken by Dan for National Dog Day.

3a) And also Gizmo. I have discovered that I can drive him into a state of frantic delight by climbing the stairs as sloooowly as possible while he waits at the top to greet me. Bwaaahahahahahaha.

Saturday Morning, 28 August -- Provincetown, Day Four

1) Two restaurant experiences this trip: Wednesday night we were asked to show our vaccination cards at the restaurant where we dined, even though we were sitting outside — a first for all of us. This morning, at breakfast I was offered a space at the bar instead of waiting for 45 minutes for a table outside. I left after 30 seconds. It just felt too crowded and uncomfortable.

2) The heat broke last night, and it is beautifully cool today. And yet I am not motivated to go anywhere or do anything, including — or perhaps especially — going to the beach.

3) Truly P’town is where good habits go to die. While my diet isn’t exactly hanging in tatters about me, I have certainly not kept up with any morning exercise.

Friday Morning, 27 August -- Provincetown Day Three

1) Up early, and brought my first coffee and my notebook out onto the front balcony to enjoy the sunrise over the bay. Cool and beautiful, including the distant hooting of an owl and the pulsations of crickets.

2) A brisk walk down Comical Street brought me to the new French bakery near the hardware store in the East End to meet my friends Ric and Paul for an early breakfast. Have not seen them in person for a year and it was really wonderful to catch with them over excellent coffee and turkey and cheese croissants.

2a) What a bougie addition to the culinary landscape of Comical Street!

2b) Provincetown is where good habits go to die. I am still mostly holding to my diet, but morning exercise is just not happening. I think it has to do with a) sharing a house with other people and b) usually being the first one up by several hours.

3) The rest of the morning has seen me ensconced on the sofa reading and watching the news. Staying with friends is always a cultural education because this is where I see television. News shows, commercials . . . it’s a whole new world.

Thursday Midday, 26 August -- Provincetown, Day One

1) Yesterday I returned for my fourth week on the Cape this summer, completely abandoning my morning routine to make the 9 AM ferry. Yesterday was a day of perfect weather, so I was able to sit in the shade on the stern and read The Economist all the way.

2) It takes 20 minutes walking at a brisk clip with my luggage to get from the pier to the house. Once there, I was able to drop my luggage, change clothes, refill my thermos, start recharging my phone, and grab my (already packed) beach backpack to go to the beach before the housekeepers arrived a little before noon. (The rule now is that no one at all is allowed in the house while the housekeepers work their magic.) I felt like I’d earned a gold star, timing it so well.

3) When I was in New York last month I tried to walk with Lady Longstreet’s “peculiar, drifting ease*” because it was so exceedingly hot. Yesterday I tried that again, not because of the heat, but due to two large, broken blisters inside my smallest right toes. The walk in and out was a good workout for me as it was high tide, which usually involves walking through knee-high water part of the way.

4) The pandemic has made me wary of being around lots of people. At the beach, that means hiking even further. Later in town, walking down Comical Street, I saw a cocktail party in progress on a front porch, 20 or so men all standing in close proximity, and I thought “Wow, my life used to be like that.” When is that going to happen again?

5) I found Erik Larsen’s The Splendid and the Vile at Tim’s Used Books, which I brought with me to dinner at the Post Office Café. I broke my diet to have a manhattan with dinner, and later I’d wished I hadn’t.

6) I turned out the lights at 9:45 and slept like a hunk of concrete until 3:30 AM.

7) Today, Thursday, headache and blister anxiety might keep me closer to him. it’s a gorgeous beach day . . . but I’m allowing myself the luxury of not feeling guilty about it.

*From Willa Cather’s beautiful short story “The Old Beauty.”