Drives are always a good idea.
When I was terribly sick the world became fatally overwhelming. For days I stayed at home and lay on my bed immobile because every move stifled my lungs and clenched my gut. When I returned to work finally I feared every moment for every moment I felt that I was going to faint. The holiday came too late, but when it finally came it was sweet. Cholo took me for a drive in Sierre Madre and away from the madding world. For two hours we drove around and we listened to The Beatles. When the mountains came into view and our cellphones ceased to receive messages, I felt truly free. It was just the respite I needed.
Before I took to my bed I started to read Edith Wharton's "The House of Mirth" and fell in love with Lily Bart, who is doomed by her poverty and love for beauty. I fell in love with her, perhaps, because like her I am madly passionate for beautiful things but am restricted by my penury. It is a pain, this ambition.
Like Lily I wanted many things and because it was all I could do, I bemoaned on my Facebook page: "I
want a new 'The Great Gatsby' to replace my dogeared copy, a pale pink
flowy skirt, and... scones. But instead I will attempt to be a model of
frugality and snack on this jar of tootsie roll while lolling in bed
with an old book in my tattered pajamas. Luxury for the impecunious." In the end, actually, it was not bad at all.
But scones had to be had and so during the holiday when I felt a bit better, we went to TWG for high tea and my scones, which did not live to see this photo shoot. Here is the black tea sorbet instead, which was equally delicious.
When I got back to school after the holiday, my dear friend and student Stephanie surprised me with a gift. She has read my status update and got me a copy of "The Great Gatsby!" It beats my old book not only because its pages are fresh and crisp, but most of all because it came from her.
When I was feeling a bit better, too, I made a doodle of an Indian teapot. I wish to frame some of my work one of these days.
And yesterday, after makeup classes, we went to tea again to finally commence the weekend.
But the weekend is always too short and its brevity violently palpable and so we try to squeeze in as many good things as possible. I paint and I read and we nap like we have all the time in the world, but we constantly find ourselves looking at the time. Always, it moves too quickly, and so we try to do as many things as possible that in the end we are out of breath, but it is alright because we know we had many good things.
