September 18, 1992
Dear Everyone:
It has not gone unnoticed that “Frankie” has
recently joined the exalted ranks of weekly letter-writers.
Way to go, “Frankie”!
2 down, 3-½ to go (“Alice” and “Kelly”
were writing letters--they
started it all--but haven't been heard from in some time).
Last Saturday, “Jeannie” and I got our hair cut,
something we do about every 4 weeks. It
goes something like this: “Yvonne”
(our hairdresser) applies "highlights" to one of us (me, for instance)
while the other one (“Jeannie”, for instance) waits.
The purpose of "highlighting" is
to turn gray hair into "auburn, or burgundy highlights".
As the years go by, you get more
and more "highlighted".
Then, while the purple gunk is soaking into my
hair, “Yvonne” trims “Jeannie's” hair. By
the time “Jeannie's” hair is cut, I'm ready to be rinsed and then
“Yvonne” trims my hair. Then
“Jeannie” and I go to lunch (or a movie, or shopping, or all three).
Four weeks later, we repeat the
process except that “Jeannie” gets gunked while I get cut.
We've been doing this long enough that the ladies
who run the front desk and make appointments are familiar with the
pattern. They know that we are a
double-appointment. In fact, one
time the woman at the desk was explaining to a new person about how two
of “Yvonne's” clients are sisters who come in together and you'll know
them when you see them because they look alike.
At that point, she glanced up and
saw “Jeannie” standing by the desk and asked, "Which one are you?"
“Jeannie” promptly replied:
"The other one."
However, last Saturday, we
didn't go to lunch (or a
movie, or shopping) because “Jeannie” had to attend a Bocce Ball
Tournament. I usually start
reminding her of hair Saturdays about a week-and-a-half in advance.
"Remember, a week from Saturday,
we get our hair done; so don't plan something else on the same day."
It's part of my job.
On the Thursday before, I start
reminding her every evening. This
is so she won't accept a job for Saturday.
Last Friday night, I called to tell her what time
I'd pick her up (getting us both there on time is also my job), and she
said, "Oh, rats!" (Never a good
sign.)
“Kerner” is the name of the family that runs the
court reporting service that “Jeannie” works out of.
“Kerner” is also the name of the
family that was in the finals for the local
bocce ball
tournament. “Jeannie” had
promised to attend. You can see
where this is going.
Bottom line: “Jeannie”
went to the tournament, left to get her haircut (this was her week to
get cut, mine for color-and-cut), then went back to the tournament.
I didn't mind being left alone
because it gave me more time to work on my current sewing project.
Later, “Jeannie” told me about the tournament.
According to Webster, bocce (or
boccie, or bocci) is an Italian game, similar to bowl’s, usually played
on a long clay-court or alley. What
Webster doesn't tell you is that the "clay-court" is made with oyster
shells, which means an uneven surface, and that the balls are spheroid,
i.e.., not exactly round. So they
don't always go where you think they're going, much less where you want
them to go.
Webster also doesn't tell you that this game
involves a great deal of body language. Also
detailed speculation as to the ancestry, immediate parentage, and
current sexual practices of the opposing team, some of which would be
anatomically impossible, if true. Furthermore,
because there are many small children in attendance, all of this
discussion is couched in euphemisms and triple-, not to mention,
double-entendres.
All in a mixture of English and Italian.
It's a multilingual game.
Fortunately for “Jeannie”, the tournament ended
about 4:30. And most fortunately
for all concerned the “Kerners” won. These
people take their balls seriously.
“Jeannie” and I had to leave at 6:00 in order to go
into San Francisco to see
Sir Ian McKellan
in
Richard III.
The reason we had to leave so
early is that the play was scheduled to start at 7:30 instead of the
usual 8:00 pm, a fact that escaped the attention of many patrons.
We never saw so many late seaters
before.
Not that we’re sneering.
We almost missed the beginning of
Lost in Yonkers, our first
play this season, because we were so used to play starting on
Ashland Time (8:30 to give the sun time to set).
The play itself (and the actor in particular) was
quite effective. The setting was
just after World War I, with lots of quasi-uniforms.
McKellan left out the traditional
"hunchback" and opted to play up the "withered arm" instead, keeping his
left arm limp, often tucking his hand into his pocket or using the right
hand to move the left one. The
supporting cast was great, with the possible exception of Lady Anne,
whose husky voice didn't always make it out into the audience.
They used a very sparse stage, all black, with a
minimum of props. For instance,
they might bring down those ugly metal lampshades and use sound effects
to indicate a train station. A
few swaths of red fabric provided for Richard’s tent.
All a good idea for a road show
the doesn't want to spend a fortune transporting equipment and
furniture.
McKellan also used a very short, military-style
hair design, with a large "shaved" area that could have been a war-wound
or could have been from birth. At
times, from the right angle, “Jeannie” said it looked rather like a
short Mohawk. Which brings to
mind, has anyone ever done Richard as a punk-Rocker?
Just a thought
Love, as always,
Pete
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