So last night’s margaritas and party fare made me virtually useless today. I went to Pilates and I suffered through a strenuous mostly core workout. I came back and walked Arlene around the bayou and dropped by the LaLa to see what was in progress – no one there but some cabinets screwed in. I then went downtown to a couple of galleries – the Soren Christensen gallery to see David Borgerding’s sculpture and then Arthur Roger’s to see Allison Stewart’s Closer underwater paintings. All nice and yet, very, very expensive. Most of Allison’s paintings were sold already. Then went by Swirl and picked up some bottles of the Dutton Estates Syrah that I tasted the other day and learned the restaurant going into Gabriel’s old space is finally opening – and they will be serving pizza from their wood fired ovens this Tuesday night at Swirl. I decided at 3:30 not to run my 5K race at 4. Meanwhile, drove back to the Can to lay around and read and try to nap.
And feel guilty for being so damn unproductive!
L called early evening and said he had had a similar day – unproductive and feeling guilty about it – he had been out with his squeeze for her birthday the night before. What is wrong with Americans? Why is it so difficult to lounge for the lord and simply be? Aren’t weekends meant for being unproductive?
G asked me to twist her arm about going out tonight because she still is not 100% over her cold and I sat here feeling neutral, particularly after last night and having just come up from walking Arlene in the freezing cold, but I said let’s rally – it might be our last holiday night out together because I leave and she leaves next week and then she comes back and heads to NY through the Christmas holiday.
Lounging for the lord will have to wait.