Lawyer daughter and I went to see Aida in Vancouver. We had a nice time together and the opera was good but not great. The presentation was traditional, the singing was good, the chorus was excellent. The tenor needed to spend more time at the gym. He didn’t have the physique of a war hero. The audience at intermission was almost as good a show as the performance. All ages were dressed in all sorts of stunningly peculiar get ups. There was lace and chiffon, leather and spandex, silk and fringe, beads, jewels, zippers, hip boots, spike heals, jeans and work shirts, head scarfs, berets and spiked hair. Lawyer daughter and I both wore black. I had bought box seats and we had a great view of both stage and audience. And we could see into the orchestra pit.
I tried to take some pictures of some of the more astonishing outfits, but the light was low, the flash delayed and I didn’t want to be too obvious about it. In the end this is all I got.
There was an art exhibit in the lobbies. I am in favor of experimentation in art, but I like it to have some attribute other than weirdness. I didn’t see anyone looking at it: felt constructions, mostly small in black, white or brown. I took a picture of one piece which at first I thought was an old coat someone had tossed down. That was a possibility considering some of the costumes of the patrons.
Before the performance we ate dinner at a small French cafe. The food was only fair but I enjoyed chatting with the waiter, a New Zealander who came from the same small city, Pukekohe, where Jerry and I stay with my cousin.
Lawyer daughter likes to sleep in, so the next morning before leaving for home I took a walk in the rain to a coffee shop a couple of blocks from our hotel. A friendly lady in the shop gave me her newspaper, saying it was her way or recycling. I read a bit of it and thought it had a definitely right wing slant.
The week has not been easy. The law suit over Bert’s will continues. Bert’s estate is very complicated and Jerry spends lots of time filling out forms, and setting up estate accounts that may, in the end, have to be turned over to someone else.
I decided to clip the dogs to save the expense of the groomer and noticed that one of Fluffy’s testicles was enlarged and an odd shape. I took him to the vet and had him neutered. He has testicular cancer. Perhaps we got it in time; only time will tell.The vet said his teeth needed attention as well, and so while he was under anesthetic he had 7 teeth pulled out. He was away over night in the veterinary hospital in town and Daisy was unusually subdued while he was absent. When our nice island vet, Bill, delivered him home to us yesterday Daisy wiggled and squeaked with pleasure. Noses touched, tails wagged and they are again inseparable. Fluffy has antibiotics and pain-killers every day for a while, and he has so few teeth left that he will have to eat soft food for the rest of his life. Poor doggy. But he is as cheerful as ever, full of energy.
Often it’s the small things in life that give pleasure. This week it was a small bird. For the first time I have had western tanagers at my feeder. What pretty little things they are.
I saw a number of males, but only one female. Perhaps they are very shy, or perhaps they migrate separately.
Speaking of birds at the feeder, last week I had an unusual visitor. Here he/she is: I think it’s a pygmy owl.
Of course, it wasn’t interested in what the feeder had to offer. Perhaps it was searching for the chipmunk that is sometimes under the feeder. After a while it flew over to the fence.
And finally, while I am counting blessings, the garden is, I guess, a blessing. It requires a lot of physical work — probably good for an old woman and an old man — but we sat outside in it for the first evening of 2012 with our wine and listened to the news on the radio. The woods were full of birdsong. And there were flowers.