“Prissy German Tourist” phoned Saturday morning, early, not his habit, as he tends to sleep till 10am on weekends. “You awake, SW?” he asks, cheerful. “Awhm, now I am. What’s up?” I grumble. “Grab yourself a cup of coffee, then call me back.” he suggests.
I grope for my housecoat. Behind me, “Rumpole” groans from the bed, “Wha… who?” Turns over in a flurry and buries himself under the duvet. “Shhh,… it’s only PGT,…go back to sleep…” I soothe. “Deal with it!” orders “Rumpole”, his radio-announcer’s baritone muffled.
Out in the kitchen, I fill the coffepot, meanwhile peering through the window to note rain pouring from the sky. What’s going on at PGT’s that he would call so unchracteristically early? Is Obsessive/Compulsive Shopaholic all right? Their boys? As I wait for the coffee to drip through the machine, I entertain myself with visions of PGT sipping his own coffee while patiently sharing bits of lemon-poppyseed muffin with his odd cat, Buzzinsky. OCS is most likely sitting on their deck surveying their post-card inlet landscape, plotting and planning her excursions of the day. Surely, everything is okay, there will be no unpleasant reports?
Coffee ready, I prepare a cup and call back. PGT picks up at his end and says, excited “OK, SW, sit down! Wait till you hear this!” So I sit, completely curious now.
The gist of his report is that he is flying to Los Angeles the third week of April. There he will stay with a painter friend and her husband. He will be able to share her well-equipped digital studio, explore galleries and museums, move about to take hundreds of pictures and meet all kinds of fascinating characters – artists, dealers, curators, actors, musicians and writers.
“And, get this!” he adds. “Ruth and Barry have tickets to the Tristan Project on the 24th. Yippee! And just how cool is that?” PGT admires Bill Viola’s work, and is thrilled to be able to go to an interdisciplinary opera performance where Viola has collaborated with other artists to help bring a production to fruition. I agree with PGT. This is a wonderful opportunity! Only problem is, that green monster of envy stirs in my mind agitating for release. “Damn it,” I groan, “is there no way you can ship me down there in a crate, or something?” He laughs…”no can do, kiddo, but you know I do share, eventually!”
I hear OCS call out in the background, “Are you torturing SW, again? And you won’t take me either! Stop it, already!!!”
“Give the phone to OCS,” I demand, “we need to kvetch together.” “Hee” crows PGT “sees ya!” and hands off the phone.