Dilly and Me.
Well, I never look too good when you point that camera at me and do that type of selfie. Much better to get me in a mirror with some decent light, but this one wasn’t quite as hideous. And besides, it’s a lovely shot of my daughter, Hilary (Dilly, to us, as she grew up)–as we sit in our balcony theater seats. She’s my sweetie–nobody ever had a better daughter.
She whisked me away to Milwaukee where we saw Hamilton and I ate an enormous Ribeye at a place called Carnevor (what a perfect name) around the corner from the Pfister. (I don’t recommend walking alone after dark in Milwaukee from the theater back to the Pfister, but otherwise, it was a really lovely weekend.) My husband and neighbor friend filled in to take care of Dad and all was well. Thanks, guys.
p.s. Hamilton was fascinating as we make it back in our family tree (the Sharps on my father’s side) to the Adams family (not the gouls). Henry Adams of Braintree Mass. had eight sons and a daughter. President John Adams descended from Joseph, we from his brother Lt. Thomas, so that makes us cousins. And a great (many greats) grandmother, Dorcas Paine’s ancestors (and ours) arrived on the Mayflower.
So here it is:
We sat in middle in top right picture and I ate that very steak, I think.
Hamilton was fabulous and the meal incredible. We also had some shrimp scampi and I had a bit of a wedge salad as well.
Happy Friday, folks. It’s been trying since I returned–Dad has had a couple choking spells where he passed out and we had to Heimlech sp? him once. He chokes on liquids. I am not organized and of course we are coming into the holiday, but this morning I got up early and made a lovely fire. I attempt focus, take stock. Make lists. Sip my organic New Guinea dark roast–as the wind whips through the eaves. (It howled all night and we have dusting of snow. I sip, contemplate a writing schedule for the holidays that can work… Speaking of dreams? …
L.E.K. 