A Cocktail Party

Today was a day for the closing of loose ends, for finally getting signed up with a new home security system, and for finally setting my computer so that it backs up to one of those online backup sites.

And as much as I pedal water, my chin is still wet from working with the insurance company and contractors about the house fire, expanding it now to other repairs like replacing the broken window in the guest house and the leaking window in my office. It's a never ending stream of activity that most normal people would consider just normal, but that seems like complete chaos to me. The loose ends are endless. Normality has vanished.

Cheryl and I even went to a cocktail party at a country club this weekend, a benefit for guide dogs and, if I'm not mistaken, the first cocktail party I've ever attended without being paid. A band was playing off to the side, and I was transported back in time to the days when I played in a tuxedo band for weddings and big parties like this. On breaks we would attempt to steal drinks and food from the buffet table, stuffing shrimp and buns and cocktail weiners into our tuxedo pockets until we developed permanent greasy stains.

Back in those days I never saw myself--my older self--out in the crowd. I never guessed that I would be rubbing noses with the country-club set. But then, I never saw my older self at all. And I still don't, except briefly in the mirror now and then.

The guys in the band smiled at me when I walked by with Berkeley. Me, wearing my silk jacket and walking a dog wearing a blue jacket. Sigh.