Birthday Surprises

July 16, 2015 – Birthday Surprises

Elliott has never been one to plan birthday celebrations, so I knew it was up to me to come up with an idea for my 65^th this past Tuesday, July 14.  A quick trip to Paris would have been nice, but I forced myself to be realistic.  There was a certain appeal to a couple of days alone in Shenandoah National Park, communing with nature.  However, that would have left Elliott out of the picture.  I finally decided that a quiet, romantic lunch with mon amour at a French restaurant would be the best solution.  (After all, it was Bastille Day as well as my birthday.)

I knew I’d made the right decision when Elliott and I settled into a comfy banquette in Jacques’ Brasserie, the less formal dining room of L’Auberge Chez François in Great Falls.  We both ordered soup to start:  Lobster bisque for Elliott, cream of asparagus (with asparagus picked from the restaurant’s garden) for me.  Elliott chose short ribs of beef braised in pinot noir for his main course while I selected a pan-seared flounder in a beurre blanc sauce.  Both dishes were accompanied by a vegetable garniture of classically turned potatoes and carrots, baby zucchini, golden beets, and delicate haricots verts.  The minute I saw dessert soufflés on the menu, I put in my order right away.  We shared a scrumptious raspberry soufflé, and it was better than any birthday cake.   

The main entrance to L'Auberge Chez François

The raspberry soufflé was a delicious as it looked.

On the terrace of Jacques' Brasserie

It turned out to be the perfect meal, with the perfect companion, for my special birthday.  We were both relaxed and enjoyed reminiscing about the food we’d eaten in France.  Once we finished lunch, however, we had to rush home since we were expecting a repairman to come and fix the air conditioning in the afternoon.  (Yes, we were on our 4^th day without AC!)

This birthday seemed to be going relatively smoothly.  I had opened up a dozen or so birthday cards in the morning.  Facebook and email birthday wishes had arrived throughout the day.  One strange thing was that I hadn’t gotten a birthday phone call from Elisa.  I made all kinds of excuses for this lapse and told myself she’d call around dinnertime.  At 5:00 p.m., the temperature in the house was still at least 80 degrees, but the repairman was downstairs working on the AC system.  Matt and my friend Judy were coming over for a simple birthday dinner (everything cold and prepared ahead of time) so I set out the food while Elliott was taking his nap. 

When he got up from his nap, Elliott didn’t have much of an appetite.  He sat down in the living room while the rest of us started eating.  And then it happened – blood spurting out of his nose, just like on Sunday night.  I jumped up and gathered paper towels, tissues, regular towels and ran over to Elliott.  There were already big splotches of blood on his clothes.  This time, I knew the routine.  I stuffed a decongestant-soaked cotton ball into his left nostril.  I called our doctor and monitored Elliott’s vital signs.  I wiped up blood from the floor and waiting for the bleeding to stop.  

This was enough drama for one evening.  But about 10 minutes into Elliott’s nosebleed, I heard the text message alert on my phone.  From Christian, my son-in-law:  we’ve checked into the hospital for the delivery. 

Well, that explained why I didn’t get a phone call earlier in the day.  It’s hard to think of making phone calls while you’re having contractions.  True, her due date wasn’t until July 25, but I had a feeling the baby would come early.  I could hardly contain my excitement, but as soon as I reported to the news, I had to rush back to Elliott’s side and focus on his immediate medical needs. 

Finally, the bleeding tapered off and I turned my attention to the cleanup.  As I scrubbed the blood out Elliott’s clothing, I kept hoping I’d hear more from Christian.  But when I finally collapsed into bed, there was no further information. 

Wednesday morning came.  Elliott had gotten through the night without any bleeding problems.  And we hadn’t gotten any more texts from Christian.  We both were thinking of Elisa, going through labor, and counting the hours since she’d had gone into the hospital.  It was hard to think of anything else.  Finally, around 4:00 on Wednesday afternoon, we got a phone call from a very tired Elisa with the news we’d been waiting anxiously to hear:  our granddaughter, Sylvia Margot Cheslak, had been born at 1:00 p.m.  The conversation was very brief but Elisa assured us that everything was fine. 

Today we spoke with both Elisa and Christian at greater length and saw the first photos of Mlle. Sylvie.  As you can imagine, we are thrilled beyond words!  Even though it was a few hours late, this is the best birthday present I’ve ever received.  

Unexpected Excitement

Life with Elliott is never dull.  We’ve had a few good days, if you discount the fact that our air conditioning stopped working Friday evening.  Fortunately, Elliott likes warm temperatures, especially since we couldn’t get anyone to come out and look at the system until tomorrow.  I can’t tolerate the heat so I arranged to spend most of the weekend out of the house.  

On Saturday, I was in DC on the National Mall with my friend Michelle (and about a million tourists – ugh).  We went to see the Gustave Caillebotte exhibit at the National Gallery of Art.  It was delightful to see his Impressionist paintings, especially since I’m not very familiar with his work.  His scenes of Paris life, portraits of friends, boating on the Seine, and market displays made both of us so nostalgic for France.  One of his most well known works, Paris Street, Rainy Day, traveled from The Art Institute of Chicago for the exhibition.  But the painting that set my heart a-flutter was Fruit Displayed on a Stand, on loan from Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts.  I stood in front of that painting on countless occasions during the decade I lived in the Boston area (1973-1983).

I was at the Workhouse Arts Center on Sunday for my fused glass class.  I’m working on some new photo transfers.  Matt was there, too, assisting the instructor.  He’s been accepted into the emerging artists program, which means he’ll have studio space in the Glass House.

Our houseguests arrived from Yorktown on Sunday afternoon.  It was much too hot to cook so I took everyone out to Wegman’s for dinner.  It was the perfect solution – pizza for Tyler, General Tso’s chicken for Matt, barbecued wings for Elliott, etc.  Shortly after we all settled down with our trays at a large table in the café area, someone cried out.  Everyone looked up.  Blood was pouring down Elliott’s face, flowing out of his nose at an alarming rate.  Within seconds, his shirt, vest and pants were drenched with blood. Elliott tried to staunch the flow by pinching his nose, but it continued to gush out.  Of course, he couldn’t keep the cannula from his oxygen concentrator in his nose and I was concerned about his oxygen level.  While I called 911, the others kept busy mopping up the blood with fists full of paper napkins.

The emergency responders arrived a few minutes later.  The bleeding tapered off soon afterwards.  They checked Elliott’s vital signs.  Aside from a stress-related spike in blood pressure, he seemed all right and decided to forgo transport to the emergency room.  I was impressed with how calmly everyone, including Elliott, dealt with the crisis.  We cleaned him up as best we could and headed home, where I stayed up late washing blood out of his clothes.  So, thank you, Elliott, for adding a little excitement to our evening!  

Elliott, after the bleeding stopped

Celebrating Independence and Seeking Equilibrium

The National Archives, all dressed up for Independence Day

Urban art from Peru

I didn’t travel far from home over the long Fourth of July weekend, but I made a point of expressing my personal independence.  Home is feeling more and more like a prison, and I came up with a multi-day escape plan.  On Friday, I took a solo trip into DC for the Smithsonian Folklife Festival. I would have preferred to go with a friend, but everyone already had plans so I went ahead on my own.  Once I was on the Metro, I was glad to have the freedom to do exactly what I wanted to do, without a single thought of anyone else – a possible sign of caregiver fatigue.  Since I had told Elliott not to expect me back home at any particular time, I had the whole day to spend as I chose.  I started with a lengthy visit to the festival, then a South American lunch break, and finally a quick stop at the National Gallery of Art.  By design, the day included a lot of walking.  In fact, I walked until my feet begged me to stop.  Here’s a run-down on the highlights of the day.

The Folklife Festival on the National Mall

The theme for this year’s festival was Peru: Pachamama (Mother Earth in the Quechua language).   The focus was on the diverse cultures from different regions of the country.  The entrance to the festival site on the National Mall was marked by a suspension bridge made of braided rope, typical of those found in the Andes Mountains.  There was a wide array of fascinating exhibits devoted to crafts, such as textiles, ceramics, painted tinwork, decorated gourds, retablos, and more.  I loved seeing the alpacas and watching a procession of dancers wearing masks and dressed in lavishly decorated costumes.   

Several different types of traditional and contemporary music filled the air.  Cooking demonstrations and music and dance performances were offered throughout the day.  Smells from the cooking demonstrations and food vendors tempted me but the long lines were discouraging.  Fortunately, the festival site was adjacent to the American Indian Museum.  At the museum’s Mitsitam Café, I continued the Peruvian theme with a spicy ceviche of shrimp and sweet potatoes, and a tasty dish of collard greens and corn. 

Then it was more walking, this time back across the mall to the National Gallery for a couple of their Patriotic Pop-Up tours.  These are short docent-led gallery talks that focus on paintings related to American history.  We viewed three works by urban realist artist George Bellows (New York, New York, Blue Morning, and The Lone Tenement) to get a sense of life in the big city in the early years of the 20^th century.  Allies Day 1917 by Childe Hassam portrays the exuberant national feeling of Americans supporting the French and British in World War I. 

New York, New York by George Bellows

Allies Day by Childe Hassam

On Saturday, the actual Fourth of July, I partied not once but twice with my friends Eleanor and Gary, who celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary with a poolside luncheon at their home and then a formal dinner at a lovely Fairfax City restaurant.  In between the two events, I worked with my friend Cindy on a patchwork quilt she’s making for Elisa’s baby.  This was my first experience with doing patchwork, and Cindy (an ESOL colleague) was an excellent teacher.  I look forward to practicing my newfound skills on some simple projects over the coming months.

Elliott received a special T-shirt at Eleanor and Gary's luncheon.

Sunday was devoted to an all-day trip to the Castleton MusicFestival, founded by the late conductor Lorin Maazel and his wife about ten years ago.  It took about two hours to reach the site of the festival.  At least I didn’t have to do the driving since this was a trip organized by the JCC.  It was wonderful getting away from suburbia and into the wide-open idyllic spaces of rural Rappahannock County.  We stopped on the way at an old tavern in the town of Flint Hill for lunch and then saw an afternoon performance of Gounod’s opera, Roméo et Juliette.  By the time I returned home on Sunday evening, I was satisfied that I had appropriately declared and celebrated my independence.  

This is the setting of the Castelton Music Festival.

Feeling relaxed at Castleton

The matter of independence was now settled, but I immediately recognized that I had created a new problem, i.e. exhaustion, resulting from several successive days of intense activity.  A sense of weariness, both physical and mental, swept over me.  I had originally planned to go out with a friend on Monday for a wine-tasting at a Virginia vineyard.  Instead, I decided to take a break.  I needed at least one day close to home to take care of the non-exciting tasks of daily living.

When I stopped running around, I gave finally myself time to reflect.  It seems like I’m constantly struggling to establish balance in my life.  I crave variety and thrive on new experiences.  My calendar fills up quickly, with dining out, cultural excursions, exercise classes, and more – all activities that I truly enjoy.  On the other hand, the pace leaves me drained and exhausted.  Do I have less energy because I’m older?  Is my body telling me it’s time to slow down? 

After spending some time thinking about this, I believe I’ve been subconsciously spending more and more time outside the house in order to get away from Elliott.  It’s not just physical distance, but an emotional or psychological distance that I need.  Because Elliott can’t go out on his own, he’s a constant presence at home, where he’s preoccupied with mortality.  I have to be on guard against his negativity and not allow it to infect me.  Instead of being a refuge, our house has become oppressive.  Consequently, I escape whenever I can.  Keeping busy certainly helps me forget my role as caregiver.  But as I now know, I need to modify this strategy so that there’s a better balance in my life.  The life-enriching activities and relationships outside of home can’t occupy all of my time.  I need to set aside quiet time and opportunities to reflect, rest and restore my energy.  Who knew that equilibrium would be so elusive?  

Grandparenting 101

An air of calm descended on the Thompson household after the trauma of the car buying episode.  Elliott and I have been speaking to each other like “normal” people once again – especially when he puts in his hearing aids.  He’s back to listening to audio books, going to the senior center, and making plans to go through more of the boxes stacked up in the garage.  He has recruited Marshall to help with this latest project but I’m going to supervise discreetly.  I’m back to Pilates and Zumba, lunch dates with friends, and quiet evenings of reading.  And I love the new car.  A few days ago, I took a long drive out into the countryside to pick lavender with a friend.  

Seven Oaks Lavender Farm in Catlett, Virginia

But the most interesting recent activity was the Grandparenting class I took this afternoon.  First of all, I learned how grandparents can help by cooking, cleaning and running errands so the parents are free to concentrate on baby care and sleep.  I’ll pass this information along to Elisa and Christian.  Our instructor also stressed a major DON’T for grandparents:  Do not give advice unless it is solicited. 

In addition, I brought my skills up to date.  I don’t think I’d ever swaddled an infant before but after a little practice in class, I’m now a passable swaddler.  I took photos of each step so I can review the procedure before the baby arrives.  I’m looking forward to lots of tummy time and skin-to-skin contact with the baby, too.  As soon as I’m summoned, I’ll be on my way to Brooklyn!

I swaddled this baby!!!

Bye, Bye, Geezermobile! Say hello to Frosty!

June 19, 2015 – Bye, Bye, Geezermobile!  Say Hello to Frosty!

At long last, the Thompson car-buying saga has come to an end.  I’m happy to report that it was a satisfying end.  However, this was not accomplished without long and tortuous negotiating on my part – not with any car dealers, but with my long-time love. 

The difficulty of dealing with Elliott over this particular issue points out some of the subtle cognitive changes that have taken place over the past few years.  They relate to prioritizing, problem solving, making judgments, remembering details, and expressing himself.  A constellation of factors are involved, ranging from his age, his constant pain, his use of strong pharmaceuticals, and his natural inclination to be controlling. 

We both agreed that it was time to replace the geezermobile, my mother’s 2001 Lincoln Town Car that became our family’s primary vehicle nearly seven years ago.  I appreciated the car’s smooth ride, cushy interior and humongous trunk.  On the other hand, the geezermobile was hardly the ideal car.  It had poor gas mileage, a daunting turning radius – and it definitely was a challenge to park.  Every year, we were shelling out more and more money to keep the car running.  With its next inspection coming up in a couple of months, Elliott and I mutually decided to exchange this aging road behemoth for a more up-to-date and appropriately sized automobile. 

As I mentioned in my previous post, I started the car-quest with Elliott about a week and a half ago when we went to the Subaru dealer in Fairfax.  The Subaru Forester seemed to fit our needs and budget.  In addition, we’ve both been Subaru fans since our Legacy purchase back in 1994.  But Elliott wasn’t ready to commit to the Forester so quickly.  Doing things the Elliott way involves days and days of research – both online and on the ground.  I spent last weekend glued to the computer.  Thanks to the Edmonds website, I can tell you the length and width (to the tenth of an inch) of every car we even vaguely considered. 

When last Monday rolled around, I was ready with my list of vehicles to examine in person.  Fortunately, Elliott agreed to stay home (the temperature was in the upper 90s) while I spent all afternoon visiting one car dealership after another.  Of course, I brought along his big walker, and at each dealership, I hauled out it to see how it fit into a variety of car models. 

At the end of the day, I was in a real quandary.  I’d narrowed the choices down to three possibilities:  a Subaru Forester, a Honda CR-V, and a Toyota RAV-4.  All three seemed fine to me.  All of the salespeople I worked with seemed very nice, too, and that was part of the problem – I don’t want to disappoint any of them, but I really didn’t need three cars. 

When I came back home and shared all the information with Elliott so he could help me make a decision, he raised one objection after another and told me to go to a few more car dealers and look at more cars!  At that point, frustration overtook me.  It seemed that no matter what I did, Elliott would never be satisfied.  I announced that there would be no new car this year.  

My reaction shook Elliott up a bit.  Over the course of the next few hours, he managed to make a few reasonable suggestions (how about other Subaru models?) and to express his concerns about finances (no debt even if rates are super-low).  I listened calmly and we agreed on an action plan.  On Wednesday, we went together to the Subaru dealership to look at several Subaru models in addition to the Forester.  After doing a test drive and also considering the Legacy, Impreza, and Crosstrak, I still preferred the Forester for a variety of reasons, which I very patiently explained to Elliott.  Much to my relief, he deferred to my decision.  The ordeal was over. 

Before I knew it, I was signing papers and handing over the keys to the geezermobile.  I regret that I didn’t even have time to say a proper farewell to the old car, but I didn’t realize everything would happen so quickly!  We drove home in the new Forester, which I’ve nicknamed Frosty (the Snowman) because of its creamy white color. 

Now that I’ve worked so hard to get this car, I’m determined to give it plenty of TLC.  Furthermore, I plan to carry on the family tradition of keeping cars for a very long time.  Prior to this point, I’ve been willfully ignorant of how cars operate, but this is going to change, starting today.  I’ve purchased the Girls Auto Clinic Glove Box Guide.  In simple, straightforward language and with plenty of clear graphics, author Patrice Banks explains the car’s inner workings, how to keep it healthy, and how to identify minor and major problems.  By the way, Elliott is very supportive of my goal to become an educated car owner.  

So, to borrow a few words from Shakespeare, all’s well that ends well.  The geezermobile rode off into the sunset; Frosty is settled comfortably in our garage; and our marriage is still intact. 

Changing Times

After 31-plus years of marriage, I’m well aware that relationships change over time.  Ours is now going through an especially dynamic phase.  Circumstances related to Elliott’s health and age are forcing us to re-examine our roles and the ways in which we relate to each other.  I have to remind myself to try to be patient and understanding, even as I stifle the urge to scream.  

This isn’t easy for Elliott, either.  He has always been fiercely independent and has prided himself on being able to care for his family.  For many years, he was in charge of finances, taxes, legal affairs, insurance, major purchases, etc.  Now I’m trying to assume responsibility for so much that formerly fell into his domain, and he’s not yielding control gracefully.  I feel capable of making decisions, but again and again, he re-asserts his need to be in control. 

Case in point – the issue of a generator, which I researched and ordered online while he was still in rehab.  The main reason I felt we needed a generator was to ensure that he could continue to use his oxygen concentrator during a power failure.  Shortly after he returned home, he discovered what I’d done and cancelled the order so that he could make the decision about a generator himself.  He isn’t convinced that we actually need a generator at all, in fact.  For over two weeks, he’s been gathering information from friends, family and online sources.  I admit that his approach is much more thorough than mine.  However, when we lost power during yesterday’s thunderstorm and I was scrambling around in the semi-dark to hook him up to his battery-operated concentrator, I couldn’t suppress my feeling of frustration.  By the way, the storm occurred during Elliott’s naptime, so he slept through the entire incident.

If the generator purchase (which would be well under $1000) is causing this much trouble, you can imagine the stress caused by the need to purchase a new vehicle.  Elliott had a minor meltdown a couple of days ago when I told him I was going to look at cars while he was at the senior center.  To placate him, I picked him up early and took him with me to the Subaru dealership on the hottest day of the year.  I have no objection to his looking at cars, but it troubles me that he doesn’t trust me – or feel comfortable with me – doing some of the preliminary looking on my own.  I guess it’s his way of maintaining a sense of control over his own life.  I tried to explain my reasoning to him, how it would save time, etc. but it was useless. 

In addition, the same control issues are surfacing as we work on updating our legal documents – wills, powers of attorney, advanced medical directives, etc.  My first mistake was starting the process myself, by contacting a lawyer while Elliott was in rehab.  After a consultation and a signing, he started questioning everything we’d done.  He’s already spent hours obsessively poring over the pages at home, examining every word and interrogating me on the meaning of every phrase.  Since he’s legally blind, he has to use a powerful magnifying glass and hold his face a couple of inches from the paper.  His confusion makes him very overwrought and I have to plead with him to stop. 

In order to calm Elliott down, I’ve had to reassure him that I won’t make any decisions – about cars, about legal matters, about anything – without including him in every step of the process.  As a result, very little is getting accomplished, and my stress level is rising everyday.  It’s even interfering with my ability to get a good night’s sleep. 

I’m also having a hard time keeping the Elliott-clutter contained.  All the paraphernalia spreads insidiously, creeping into the living room where he now has legal papers strewn over the sofa and the coffee table.  If I put anything away, out of his sight or reach, he panics. 

Even with Marshall and Matt helping out by spending time with Elliott and taking him for lunch, the situation at home is disheartening.  Lately I’ve felt as if I’m falling into a deep bottomless pit.  I need something to grab onto, or some kind of parachute.  I know I’m in trouble when I make a daily trip to Trader Joe’s just so I can chat with the check out person.  But is it so wrong to want to have a conversation with someone under the age of 100?

Meanwhile, I’m trying not to ignore the rest of my life.  I’m trying out a Pilates class at the gym, although I’m not sure if it will become a regular component of my exercise program.  The soothing music that accompanies the instructor’s directions is deceptive:  Pilates is very hard work.  But my core muscles could use some serious strengthening so I’m not giving up yet.

And I did a little socializing at Annandale High School yesterday when I attended a farewell party for a former ESOL colleague who’s retiring after teaching for 42 years!  That end-of-school-year excitement was definitely in the air.  I’m looking forward to spending more time with my teacher friends once summer break begins. 

I’m taking a little time off from working on fused glass.  The summer session begins in a couple of weeks.  However, I took some photos of a few of my larger pieces and posted them to my glass gallery blog.  Here’s the link: http://robinthompsonglass.blogspot.com/

Another item on my to-do list:  find a therapist – for myself!

I don’t want to end this post on a negative note.  Here's a photo of Elliott eating stewed rhubarb, a favorite from his childhood.  Every spring, when rhubarb appears in the market, I make it for him.  

It's true that Elliott and I are facing challenges, but I’m exploring ways of coping with them.  Getting my thoughts down in words helps, too, so thanks for reading.  It means a lot to me. 

Back from Brooklyn

Looking north from E&C's apartment towards downtown Brooklyn

Although I consider myself a New Yorker by birth, I’d hardly set foot in the borough of Brooklyn until a couple of years ago, when Elisa and Christian chose a Brooklyn venue for their wedding.  A few months ago, they officially became Brooklyn-ites when they moved across the river from the Lower East Side to one of Brooklyn’s family-friendly neighborhoods, Cobble Hill.  I spent a few days visiting them this past week, and I could immediately see why they found the area so appealing.  It wasn’t just the plethora of interesting restaurants and shops and the convenience of Trader Joe’s and Union Market.  Everywhere I looked, I saw pregnant young women, moms pushing strollers, and little children scurrying along on scooters.  Compared to the Lower East Side, the streets of Cobble Hill were quiet and clean.  

The view from the balcony of Elisa & Christian's apartment looking towards Manhattan

The restaurant scene on Smith Street and Court Street means you never have to travel far to get a good meal.  The hardest part of my visit was deciding where to eat.  On my first evening, Elisa and I braved the chilly drizzle and walked over to Buddy’s Burrito and Taco Bar on Court Street.  We were pleased to find reasonably priced, health-conscious and tasty Mexican food in a casual and friendly environment.  The spinach-cheese quesadilla was a stand-out.   

Elisa and I actually ate most of that meal!

A couple of nights later, Christian was able to join Elisa and me for a late meal at Enoteca on Court, a small Italian wine bar.  A leisurely post-dinner stroll back to their apartment was the perfect way to end the evening.  

(that's not a real bottle of Prosecco - the waiter added it for the photo)

Elisa and I devoted one full day to seeing the sights of Brooklyn.  We started at the Grand Army Plaza, at the northern end of Prospect Park.  The neo-classical Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Memorial Arch pays tribute to the defenders of the Union during the Civil War.   

At the Grand Army Plaza

Once you enter Prospect Park, you feel miles and miles away from the city.  With no set itinerary, we followed paths at random, inhaling the scent of honeysuckle in deeply wooded areas, dodging bicyclists along paved roads, and traipsing through grassy meadows where groups of school children were frolicking.  The park is enormous and we only covered a small amount of its territory.  Elisa will certainly be back to find the zoo, the boathouse, the botanical garden, and the carousel. 

We exited the park on Prospect Park West in the Park Slope neighborhood. The streets just west of the park are lined with stately homes built in the late 1800s.  One of the main commercial streets is Seventh Avenue, where we found Burger Village.  This restaurant features all organic burgers and salads, with plenty of options for non-carnivores.  I highly recommend the black bean burgers.  

A healthy al fresco lunch in Park Slope

Although Elisa is in her seventh month of pregnancy, she was able to keep up with the walking tour as long as we made frequent stops for nourishment and restrooms.  One of our last stops was at Ample Hills Creamery on Union Street in the Gowanus area.  We sat on the roof terrace and enjoyed homemade ice cream (they have fascinating flavors!) before setting out on the final leg of our journey. 

While I was staying with Elisa and Christian, I made daily excursions to their local Trader Joe’s, at the corner of Atlantic Avenue and Court Street.  This is the biggest Trader Joe’s I’ve ever seen.  In addition to its size, it’s quite impressive architecturally, as it is housed in a former bank building.  One note, if you go there:  the store is incredibly busy unless you go in the morning. 

Even though Brooklyn has plenty to offer, I didn’t spend all my time there.  On Wednesday afternoon, Elisa and I went into the city to see a matinee performance of the new Broadway musical, An American in Paris.  I can see why it was nominated for a dozen Tony awards.  The show was exhilarating, with wonderful Gershwin music, a compelling story, and superb dancing.  The leads, who are both dancers with major ballet companies, are also very talented singers and actors.  

In case you’re wondering how Elliott managed while I was away, you need not be concerned.  Marshall stayed at the house with him.  I knew from past experience that things I usually do (fixing Elliott’s breakfast, washing out his compression socks, etc.) would not get done so I was mentally prepared this time.  I didn’t even bother printing out a copy of the Elliott Thompson Care and Maintenance Guide.  The decision not to be a micro-manager freed me to enjoy my time with Elisa – the last mother-daughter time before the baby arrives and a new phase in our lives begins.