Clarence, Alberta and Himself in Albuquerque, NM
Day 30 – Thursday
Meet them in the lobby so as to go to breakfast. I note that they seem a bit more quiet than last evening; Alberta perhaps a tad cool. I will learn in just a few moments that, while absolutely fine, Clarence had a fall last night, trying to put on pajama bottoms. His foot got tangled, down he went. He says, just a little bruised. I reply, "your ego or your body?" Okay, one too many martinis (Alberta did not partake). Tonight we are on best-behavior; we will mind our p's and q's, as they say in old England.
After b'fast, I venture out for a look-see at Albuquerque, get my bearings. I have asked if I could make them dinner tonight and then do so: a simple penne pasta with red sauce, spinaci and red/yellow/green peppers. I cook it in my place so that they don't have to live with the Italian seasoning aromas all evening, bring it up to their place where we eat.
Okay, we'll have just one martini, maybe a second. I do up the dishes for which I will not hear the end of it. I am certain that Alberta appreciates the gesture. Too, I am actually surprised how easily Clarence lets go of the f-bomb. I can't so easily counter. It's like when I was teaching at university, I certainly was capable of swearing in front of students in class or lectures, but the f-bombs were very carefully and deliberately used and only to good effect, usually to make a point about acting and the craft, thereof. We had previously agreed to make it an early evening, and of course, went later than last night.
Clarence has decided that I am his "cousin-brother," as the Navajo call it: dear friends, almost soul-mates. He later will begin saying that we are "metaphysical twins, separated at birth, brought back together some 37 years later." Trying to do the math, how old would that make me? I decide to excuse myself and go back to my apartment because I now am quite cognizant that we would continue to chat and discuss all night long.
The plan for tomorrow is that Clarence wants to take me to Gilman Tunnels up in the mountains, some ninety minutes away. We will try to get back by mid-to-late afternoon so that I still can paint. There will be some effort to prepare the Kia for a passenger, I will do that in the morning.
Meet them in the lobby so as to go to breakfast. I note that they seem a bit more quiet than last evening; Alberta perhaps a tad cool. I will learn in just a few moments that, while absolutely fine, Clarence had a fall last night, trying to put on pajama bottoms. His foot got tangled, down he went. He says, just a little bruised. I reply, "your ego or your body?" Okay, one too many martinis (Alberta did not partake). Tonight we are on best-behavior; we will mind our p's and q's, as they say in old England.
After b'fast, I venture out for a look-see at Albuquerque, get my bearings. I have asked if I could make them dinner tonight and then do so: a simple penne pasta with red sauce, spinaci and red/yellow/green peppers. I cook it in my place so that they don't have to live with the Italian seasoning aromas all evening, bring it up to their place where we eat.
Okay, we'll have just one martini, maybe a second. I do up the dishes for which I will not hear the end of it. I am certain that Alberta appreciates the gesture. Too, I am actually surprised how easily Clarence lets go of the f-bomb. I can't so easily counter. It's like when I was teaching at university, I certainly was capable of swearing in front of students in class or lectures, but the f-bombs were very carefully and deliberately used and only to good effect, usually to make a point about acting and the craft, thereof. We had previously agreed to make it an early evening, and of course, went later than last night.
Clarence has decided that I am his "cousin-brother," as the Navajo call it: dear friends, almost soul-mates. He later will begin saying that we are "metaphysical twins, separated at birth, brought back together some 37 years later." Trying to do the math, how old would that make me? I decide to excuse myself and go back to my apartment because I now am quite cognizant that we would continue to chat and discuss all night long.
The plan for tomorrow is that Clarence wants to take me to Gilman Tunnels up in the mountains, some ninety minutes away. We will try to get back by mid-to-late afternoon so that I still can paint. There will be some effort to prepare the Kia for a passenger, I will do that in the morning.
Clarence thought it would be funny to stage me trying to steal Christ's staff in the chapel. Can't a person get struck down by lightning for that? Thanks a lot, Clarence! (photo)
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