Yay Bruce! Yay Me!

I am completely knackered from Steve and Tim’s visit, the fireworks and their crowds and noise and the Pride parade. I could barely handle yesterday: Dr. Shoja, visiting Bruce and then hosting Mary-Lou’s visit late in the afternoon. I need a few days in a row with no people but that’s not going to happen for a while.

I went to see Bruce yesterday and called before I got there. I told him I would meet him outside on the bench where we often sit. I got there first and sat down and a few minutes later out he came: No walker, no cane, nothing! He was walking on his own. It was so great to see.

And… I registered yesterday to begin ASL (American Sign Language) classes in September. So many people think I am deaf and sign to me that I’m going to learn how to politely explain that I can hear and to thank them for their kindness. I’ve thought about it long and hard and speaking to strangers is so hard and exhausting, I am super keen about being able to potentially communicate easily.

Today all I have is two doctor appointments. They are short and sweet so I’ll have most of the day to myself to chill out. And then tomorrow my only commitment is a walk with Cathy that I’ll enjoy. If I cut back on social engagements and chill out, in a week my speech will be better again.

The British King Edward VII had very strong sexual appetites. 

His whole life was filled with affairs, scandals, mistresses, 

and lurid brothel visits. His nickname among the Royal Family 

was Bertie, but many fittingly called him “dirty Bertie” 

as well as “Edward the Caresser”. As the King grew older, he found 

more and more difficult to make whoopee due to his increasing 

weight and arthritis.  However his sexual appetites did not decrease with age. 

Stunning: Pitcher plant.

This Week?

Sort of out of the blue, Rachel at the Arts Club called me and asked for my script. A mutual friend had said she would recommend my project; still, Rachel’s email came as a surprise. She said she needed my script by June 19 and that I’d hear back by the end of the June. Then, at the beginning of July, she wrote again to say that the decision-making meetings were delayed until July 10.

I’m still waiting to hear and every Monday I think: Okay… It’ll be this week. And every Friday I think: Oh no, I’ll get a rejection today.

As each week of August arrives I think: Surely this week. Soon they’ll have to be printing their season opening advertising and marketing materials and they’ll have to know their new play series titles.

The biggest reason I want to know is so that I can decide what to do with my dresses. If the Arts Club says yes, I will keep them in my place until January when the reading happens and then I will take them to John’s to store them there. The they say no… well then I have some really challenging decisions to make.

My choices seem to be working with Colin to take the script as far as I can and producing it myself, finding a producing partner or abandoning the script altogether and staging an exhibition.

Fact: If the Arts Club were to take my show into production, I’d make good coin. I’d likely earn three times what it cost me to make the dresses and I’d be set (financially) to embark on another project.

This is an iced cookie. The design is from a Japanese
print. The baking is by a genius.

Twice The Pollution of Beijing

The sun is reddened by the forest fire smoke.

Steve loves Pride.

The air quality sucks. Our air is twice as polluted as Beijing right now  — and I walked all the way to visit Bruce yesterday.  Last night I stayed cozy at home while gazillions boogied like mad out on the street outside my window to celebrate Pride. Last night’s party was the largest one yet.

This afternoon Steve, Tim and I are going to the beach even though we’ll be under thick smoke. It’s lovely and calm there so I’ll enjoy just sitting and chatting. Tonight I’ll be home while the world assembles for the final night of fireworks in English Bay.

Next week Steve will be back in L.A. and it will be Bruce’s last full week at Holy Family Hospital. I won’t be going to visit him as often so as to wean myself from frequent contact. Once he’s home, I doubt I’ll see him very often; our lives will return to normal.

And I’ll continue to wait to hear about my play from the Arts Club. I’m sure I’ll hear this month and that’s fine. I’ve settled into being neither pessimistic nor optimistic; I just keen to know.