I was buzzing around this morning, busily washing a large portion of the living room floor, collecting my sander and sandpaper, stain and varathane. Gordon halted me in mid-bustle to ask what the hell was I doing? I pointed out an area in the floor that we had replaced and refinished a long time ago—25 or 30 years. We’d hired a floor refinishing company because the owner was deaf. It was a pity hire. I’ll never do that again. The crew he brought in did a terrible job. He only showed up to collect the check and didn’t respond to any of our complaints. I’m still trying to fix some of the stuff his crew did. Some of the new flooring buckled when they finished it. I’m told they didn’t let the wood acclimate or whatever the word is. So, I was planning on sanding down the buckled part, staining it, and finishing it. Gordon pointed out that if anything when slightly wrong (like the stain not matching, the varathane slopping into a new area, etc.), the mushroom factor was terrifying. He reminded me of the time he told me not to saw through a support beam in the kitchen many moons ago when we were starting to redo the house. He referred me to the phone call he got at work. Me: “Hey, you know that beam you told me not saw through and what would happen if I did? Well, you were right.” I remember I couldn’t even get the saw loose, it was stuck in the beam. He had to come home early and prop up that part of the kitchen. I pointed out that it made us get to work on the kitchen but he wasn’t happy with me. I got a good scolding and I couldn’t argue back. He was right. So, when he sees me wandering around with tools he makes sure I’m doing the right thing. Today he talked me into calling a professional and having the floors refinished. It’s time I guess. And these floors are 100 years old. There aren’t many sands left in the them. I need someone who knows what they’re doing. And it saves me time and energy. Good deal.
A Cool Night at the Hollywood Bowl
We were invited to the Hollywood Bowl by one of Gordon’s business buddies. She has a box and said food would be provided but suggested that if I wanted to bring a pie for dessert (hint, hint) it would be welcome. So, I made a lemon meringue pie. It’s easy to carry and you don’t to pack ice cream. I like to keep the schlepping to a minimum. It was a perfect for the Bowl. We’d just gotten over a heat wave and the weather was pleasantly cool. June, Gordon’s friend, has a deal set up where she valet parks and someone hauls our crap to the box. They set us up with wine and food and cleaned up afterwards. I’ve never been waited on like that at the Bowl. I could learn to live that way—if I could afford it. The food was so-so but the pie was a big hit. People in the surrounding boxes stared enviously. There’s something to be said for not growing up with much money. You learn how to do stuff. And if I do say so myself, my pie crust is almost as good as my Danish grandmother’s. We divided up the pie for people to take home for breakfast. Then the staff cleaned up after us, got rid of the tables, and turned our chairs for the concert.
It was a lovely program. Dudamel conducted Bernstein’s Chichester Psalms which was nice but the real treat was after intermission when the LA Phil performed Beethoven’s Ninth. It was quite a production. The soloists were wonderful and the LA Master Chorale was spectacular—but then, they always are. I noticed that the strings were miked but that didn’t distort the sound. I grinned through the whole thing and the audience stood and roared. Who knew that the LA Phil were rock stars?
We collected our stuff and June led us to her car which had been parked near the exit. Then the staff escorted us out the parking lot before anyone else. I have never felt so privileged. June says it’s her treat to herself. Better to give the money to the Hollywood Bowl than the guvmint. I agree. I’d pay anything to avoid that parking lot mess. Anyway, it was a special night at the Bowl. We’re going to miss Dudamel but I think it’s time for a change. I hope we get the next wunderkind. The LA Phil seems to specialize in finding them. And New York needs Dudamet. They’re struggling.
And if June wants to invite us again, I’m always up for it. And I’ll make the pie.