Henry's 90th

Darin and I woke up at Darin's usual time, 7am. Unfortunately, on the East Coast that's 10am. I don't know why Cincinnati gets to be the "East Coast" -- there isn't a body of water except the Ohio River anywhere near here, and I'm not sure that a river gets to count.

We laid about for an hour, watching Animaniacs, before getting ready for Darin's grandfather's 90th birthday party. I dressed in a bright pink sun dress I haven't worn for 6+ years: on the one hand, I still fit into it; on the other, I had to the use the outermost belt notch (whereas I clearly used the 3rd one in last time I wore it). Oh well. I was going to wear high heels with the dress, but at the last minute said, "Hell, I'm from LA, I can wear anything," and put on socks and my Timberland shoes.

I packed a t-shirt and shorts and Nero in my attache case for after the party.

Henry and Ilse live at a really wonderful retirement village. I don't know how ubiquitous these are around the country, but it's a mixture of apartments and houses on a couple of acres, with a swimming pool, a care facility, lawns, and so on. And you can get one of three main levels of care: independent living, assisted care, and nursing care. (There are levels within the levels as well, but this is a journal entry, not a sales brochure.) If you need more help, you get more help; if you need less, that's fine too.

The one room apartment Henry and Ilse have is great -- way larger than some apartments I've seen for college students. The dining room, where they eat every day and where we had the party, is very nicely appointed, with servers, a daily menu, tablecloths, silverware, dinnerware...not at all the antiseptic cafeterias I associate with nursing homes.

Turns out today, in addition to being the anniversary of Elvis's death and Madonna's birthday, is also Cousin Matthew's birthday, so we sang him Happy Birthday. (It's not really Henry's birthday until after Labor Day, but evidently this was the only weekend we could celebrate his birthday.)

During lunch, I found out what's going to happen when I make millions of dollars in Hollywood: evidently, I'm going to buy a yacht large enough for 12 and a whole bunch of the family are going to sail to New Zealand and Australia, at which point we'll berth in Sydney Harbor and stay for the 2000 Olympics. Oh, that's right: I have to buy the yacht by early 2000. Hmmm.

After lunch I left with Jody and Uncle Bob and we went to get some beer before heading back to Lil's house. Jody introduced me to something I'd never seen before: the drive-through beer barn. Yes, you drive through this barn and little elves pick up whatever beverages, usually beer, you require, and they load it in your car for you.

Not a place I'd hang out Friday nights, personally.

This barn reminded both me and Bob of New Orleans, with their go-cups and the police arresting you if you're not drunk.

We arrived at Lil's and I started showing off Nero to everyone. Bob kept asking me why it was better than Donut (which I've sold to Lil) -- the only explanation that kept coming to mind was, "Stronger, faster, better," but I didn't think that was exact enough. Bigger screen, faster processor, more RAM, bigger hard disk. And it's cool.

Lil is pretty happy with Donut too. She's not even going to change its name.

Carl, a friend of the Adlers, stopped by and said that he really enjoys The Paperwork and makes a point of reading it every week.

Darin started telling some story at the lunch table and Lil finished it, just because of this journal.

Makes me a little nervous. I mean, I'm totally flattered, but I am reminded of why this is an edited version of events. I mean, can you imagine if I wrote down every little thing that ever happened? All the gossip? (Note to Midwest relatives: there isn't any gossip you're missing. Really. I say this only for effect.) Good Lord.

No, it is best that this remain a document of decorum and tact.

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

Drank beer. Ate a lot of food. Drank more beer.