In A Fish Called Wanda, Kevin Kline plays the unforgettable character of a thief who is both obsessive and stupid. He smells his own armpits for reassurance of his masculinity; he asks why a family names their daughter, Portia, after a car.
But my favorite line is when, vibrating with angst, he clenches his fists and yells out "Disappointed!"
Yes, after our bad start to Friday and the highly unusual rain storm Thursday night, my folks arrived to a gorgeous afternoon. We prepared everything for our elegant tailgate dinner at the Santa Fe Opera.
And ANOTHER torrential rainstorm came in.
We ended up picnicking indoors. Here you can see a break in the rain, but one cell after another came through, pounding us with unbelievable amounts of water.
We made it to the opera, which is largely covered now. But it continued to storm the whole night. Madame Butterfly sang of too much brightness and springtime, even as violent lightning cracked, thunder undercutting her arias, and blowing rain drenched her from the side. At one point a whirlwind took up the flower petals she'd scattered to welcome her husband's return.
When we left, we had to wade through ankle-deep water in our fancy shoes to get to the car.
But it was still a fun night. Just disappointing not to get to enjoy the evening as planned. The next three evenings were clear, still and gorgeous.
So it goes.
The good news is, Teddy is doing better. The vet says it's kidney disease, which is not surprising in the geriatric kitty. He wants to manage it with decreased protein, which I'm not convinced works for obligate carnivores like cats. We'll see. Meanwhile we're trying some alternative remedies and she's feeling much more like her old self.
I didn't write much over the weekend, but I did relax. Which was good for me.
Now I'm back to it. We'll all settle back into our routine for the next few weeks. Less partying, more producing.