Go out with a bang they say. Well the mildly obese body habitused woman had her way with me yesterday. Dad came to town because I've been nice and he knew it. The man shed his customary curmodgeonly coat (almost definitely coerced by M2 as he calls her - the second Marilyn in his life), rented a car (sic), no AN SUV mind you, to help depossess me of my utterly valueless fortune of books, clothing, and bobble-head dolls. I was on call in the psych ED last Thurs night, admitting the average ordinary $500/night, 1 in 60,000, Baltimore drug abuser to the detox unit, and back again early to present to the no-show attending and go see neurofibromatosed type two demoralized, delirius patients Friday morning. I mention that only to stress my expectations: 32 hours of Darilyn between a late night on friday and another call sunday morning. My soothseying skills are not so hot (as my gambling history can attest to).
Friday night: John Stevens for shrimp (emmh), crab sushi, crab soup, and seered tuna salad
Saturday morning: Harvest for a delectable breakfast burrito, the BMA for the unexpected pleasures of the Cone, and her endless Matisses (they were apparently lovers - a point discussed when Lyd and I saw the Matisse BSO symphony production), Lexington Market for a whole new attitude towards crab cakes (when they actually contain observable crab) and raw oysters, Tapas Teatro - an old favorite with predictably dead-on sangeria, a 90 minute Al Gore lecture where I learned that global warming is not going to win him the presidency again, sleep, and a spot-hitting smoked salmon platter at Metropolitan to round out the wall to wall seafood theme. Packed up the truck and off they went, as I headed off to the loonie bin yet again, recharged, and replenished with probably toxic levels of serum mercury.