Aug. 19th, 2008 02:55 pm
All about me
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
muckefuckBetween the last-minute packing (which always ends up being more than you anticipated, no matter how far in advance you start) and the one-and-a-half-hour delay getting started (what kind of commercial driver leaves his house in the morning without his driver's license?), poor ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu was barely left with enough energy to make it through my birthday dinner. You wouldn't have guessed it from the aplomb with which he comported himself; it was only afterwards, making that one last trip back from the empty old house that I thought I would have to prop him up.
We were stuck for a place to eat until I suggested Marigold, which has been a favourite splurge spot since they opened two years ago almost to the day. (They had a special menu in honour of their second anniversary while we were there.)monshu had the beet salad and the grilled halibut with chana masala, I had a Goan caldo verde (like a green Indian gazpacho) and the kalonji chicken, and we both shared the mussels to start and ginger crème brûlée for dessert. (That is, we each had our own crème brûlée; I'm not sure either of us could be convinced to share one.) Washing it all down was a tasty domestic Gewürztraminer.
The next day,bunj and e. picked us up to look for furnishings. It's an ideal pairing in some ways: monshu and e. could talk patterns while bunj is the only other person I know who finds the used books on display one of the most interesting parts of visiting a furniture store. In particular, we were intrigued by a hardbound copy of Conversational German in 20 lessons, which caught my eye because it was an earlier edition of the first book I ever tried to teach myself a language from. Inside were a ticket stub for a Broadway production of Tamburlaine and $34 receipt for a YMCA in Chelsea (dated, but no year); we couldn't help but wonder about this young man who was visiting New York before either of us had been born. Oh, and I think monshu settled on some chairs for the living room or something.
For dinner, we hit a previous birthday favourite, Oysy and everyone but e. ended up splitting a sizable bottle of sake. After gorging ourselves on tempura, octopus, and maki, we still had room for ice cream and walked all the way up to the Water Tower Ghiradelli to get it, fighting clueless tourists every step of the way. (Damn you, Air and Water Show! Damn you, I say!)monshu and I had planned to hit my association's annual garden concert afterwards, but after a few minutes listening from the roof, we realised the only thing we really want to hit was the bed. I thought he'd be out like a tealight, but instead we started forging more plans for our imminent cohabitation.
We did a better job of sleeping in the next morning, though I admit I was hampered by drinking the night before like someone who can actually drink rather than the wimp that I am. Unexpectedly,monshu suggested dim sum for brunch, which meant a trip to Furama followed by a visit to the grocery for fresh lychees, to Foremost for lychee liqueur, and then a trip to the park to see the native plants garden that I helped plant shortly after moving to Uptown. After his nap, monshu recreated the lychee mimosa e. ordered at Oysy and then roasted pork for dinner.
There was something special about each of the days--and the weather couldn't have been any more glorious for each of them--but in many ways Sunday was the best, because it was so unhurried and intimate. Waking in my own house to spend the day themonshu doing whatever we felt like and nothing we didn't is pleasure I just haven't had often enough. I can only hope that the future will make it into a pleasure that's commonplace, but never routine.
monshu was barely left with enough energy to make it through my birthday dinner. You wouldn't have guessed it from the aplomb with which he comported himself; it was only afterwards, making that one last trip back from the empty old house that I thought I would have to prop him up.We were stuck for a place to eat until I suggested Marigold, which has been a favourite splurge spot since they opened two years ago almost to the day. (They had a special menu in honour of their second anniversary while we were there.)
monshu had the beet salad and the grilled halibut with chana masala, I had a Goan caldo verde (like a green Indian gazpacho) and the kalonji chicken, and we both shared the mussels to start and ginger crème brûlée for dessert. (That is, we each had our own crème brûlée; I'm not sure either of us could be convinced to share one.) Washing it all down was a tasty domestic Gewürztraminer.The next day,
bunj and e. picked us up to look for furnishings. It's an ideal pairing in some ways: monshu and e. could talk patterns while bunj is the only other person I know who finds the used books on display one of the most interesting parts of visiting a furniture store. In particular, we were intrigued by a hardbound copy of Conversational German in 20 lessons, which caught my eye because it was an earlier edition of the first book I ever tried to teach myself a language from. Inside were a ticket stub for a Broadway production of Tamburlaine and $34 receipt for a YMCA in Chelsea (dated, but no year); we couldn't help but wonder about this young man who was visiting New York before either of us had been born. Oh, and I think monshu settled on some chairs for the living room or something.For dinner, we hit a previous birthday favourite, Oysy and everyone but e. ended up splitting a sizable bottle of sake. After gorging ourselves on tempura, octopus, and maki, we still had room for ice cream and walked all the way up to the Water Tower Ghiradelli to get it, fighting clueless tourists every step of the way. (Damn you, Air and Water Show! Damn you, I say!)
monshu and I had planned to hit my association's annual garden concert afterwards, but after a few minutes listening from the roof, we realised the only thing we really want to hit was the bed. I thought he'd be out like a tealight, but instead we started forging more plans for our imminent cohabitation.We did a better job of sleeping in the next morning, though I admit I was hampered by drinking the night before like someone who can actually drink rather than the wimp that I am. Unexpectedly,
monshu suggested dim sum for brunch, which meant a trip to Furama followed by a visit to the grocery for fresh lychees, to Foremost for lychee liqueur, and then a trip to the park to see the native plants garden that I helped plant shortly after moving to Uptown. After his nap, monshu recreated the lychee mimosa e. ordered at Oysy and then roasted pork for dinner.There was something special about each of the days--and the weather couldn't have been any more glorious for each of them--but in many ways Sunday was the best, because it was so unhurried and intimate. Waking in my own house to spend the day the
monshu doing whatever we felt like and nothing we didn't is pleasure I just haven't had often enough. I can only hope that the future will make it into a pleasure that's commonplace, but never routine.![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
FWIW, Wikipedia notes:
"For the Stratford Shakespeare Festival (now the Stratford Festival of Canada) in 1956, Tyrone Guthrie directed another dual version, starring Donald Wolfit. (This production also included William Shatner); it travelled to Broadway, where it failed to impress—Eric Bentley, among others, panned it— although Anthony Quayle, who replaced Wolfit in the title role, received a Tony Award nomination for his performance, as did Guthrie for his direction."
That appears to be the only Broadway production of Tamburlaine in the IBDB, which says it played in the Winter Garden Theater from Jan 19, 1956 to Feb 4, 1956. And apparently Shatner did come along to play "Usumcasane, A Follower of Tamburlaine". I don't recognize any of the other names in the production offhand.
(Captain Reference, signing off. :-) )
no subject