The weekend was lovely. I mean, the kids came down, so, there was feeding & parenting, so, yk, "lovely." It also featured more retrospective analysis of the Monica Lewinsky scandal than we would have imagined. Sal was saying that now that we all know someone horrible just like Linda Tripp, how everyone works with someone like her, just awful.
I was saying that I just love sweet Monica Lewinsky, and God bless her for blowing the President, really, but I just can not believe she was smart enough to get his cock in her mouth but did not turn that BJ into a pretty apartment in the Watergate & a sah-weet post-internship corporate position & a lifetime of Clinton Foundation gala-ing. Like, I'm sorry, why else does anyone suck cock? There is a reason we call it a job. She wasted it, all of it, on a frustrated-twat GSA middle-manager, who could only hang out with interns half her age. Oh, wow, so disrespectful. A girl ought to know the deployment of the different beej tactics. Lord!
Sal opined that maybe I could have a next life as the all-girl version of the character Tom Cruise played in Magnolia. But I think Joyce Meyer already fills that niche, right? Ahahaha! Ok, sorry, I really do like Joyce Meyer. But hahaha!
Sal had a happy birthday. After I arrived, we started off strong with a leisurely lunch, after which we went for a 2-hour couples' massage, which started out pajama-party yappy & chatty, then came to an abrupt halt in the middle when the lady working on me went for the scalp & I just couldn't speak any more, then ended with a woozy, endorphin-y, hazy reminiscing of things long past.
Do you remember [redacted]? I heard he gave his mom one of his kidneys.
Omg, what? Who takes an organ from their own child? Did you sleep with him?
The follow-up question to every one of these remembrances from each of us was, What made you think of that? & the answer, from the other, was always, I don't know, so we have filed the whole experience away as Our Tantric Massage, ahahaha!
Sunday was Mothers' Day, natch. Sal took the kids out shopping for things which belong on the deck. I went to get a pedicure. Mari took a nap, which was fine bc I am not his mother.
Sunday evening we were on our way to dinner, the five of us, & the hem of my dress did get caught in the Metro escalator. Embarrassing! because for these past two or three years, I have complained somewhat bitterly every sweltering DC day of how whomever was pushing this floor-length maxi trend clearly had no fear of being caught in transit escalators. And there I was! Even though I know better! I was riding, standing there like a civilized person, and then wondered why skirt was touching me -- was there a draft, a breeze, oh, oh, no.
Fifille caught her shoelaces in an escalator step when she was 3 or 4. We were in a department store, and I ran ahead & hit the shut-off button. She was terrified of escalators for a long time, and -- relevant to this incident -- she has always taken a special interest in escalator safety. When I called out to her to run down & hit the stop button, she knew exactly where it was & what to do.
Evidently, at any given time, there could be as many as five Metro officials in one station, even our dopey, old, B-list, neighborhood station, because before all the people behind me had even walked around to get down, the station manager was on his way up. along with two transit police & a mechanic.
After they confirmed that I was not hurt, they regaled me with stories of other people with garments caught in the escalator.
"One lady got her whole dress chewed up in this escalator," the station manager told me. "She turned up at the kiosk in her underwear."
Because I am a lady, I only nodded. The fact is, as you well know, I was wearing nothing under my dress. I should prob carry some kind of a smock or a toga in my handbag along with my panties, in case, yk.
I mean, a lot of times I am wearing a slip, I guess.
Anyhow! The mechanic freed me. The jersey was a tiny bit torn at the hem. He was super-apologetic, I don't know why. I will get it rehemmed (it almost skims the floor, stupid maxi!), but while we rode the Metro, Mari tied a little knot at the hem to hide the hole while we were out.
Thank God we weren't at a station like Friendship Heights, where it is 100 feet down to the stop button!
We went to Zaytinya for dinner (love, always) & at the end, I wrote a two-page note on the pad in the folio lauding our waiter for his impeccable grace in service. It had poetry & bullet points & I am sure it will go in his permanent record. Or they'll think I was drunk, lol, whichever. I was not drunk after one glass of wine, but I could drink a case of Xinomavre, every time.
In other news of drinking a case, my favorite & best is now 45. May babies, everywhere!
Monday, the children & I took a picnic over to estatua Benito Juárez, where we waited for Mari to meet us after he finished up his super-short workday.
It was broiling outside, the way it is in DC. After about 20 minutes of sitting around on Virginia Ave NW, I remembered: You can get a sunburn in DC, just sitting around. The sun in DC is like the winter back home -- don't fuck around; you'll get hurt. We went around to the back, where it was shady & ¡mira!
Fifille said, "Omigosh, is he buried under here?" Ahahaha! Then we were bored, waiting. We may have set fire to some ants to watch what happened (science! also: don't be mad!), and when I say we, you know who I mean.
Espeaking of Juárez, which I just was, Mentha asked me about reading up on Mexico. There is obviously the gold standard of Roeder's two-volume Juárez and His México which, on the one hand, two volumes?!, but on the other: eminently readable, smooth as silk. But! Also delicious, but in a different way: A Mexican Elite Family, 1820-1980. It is an anthropological excavation of los Gomez & it covers this wide swath of agragrianism & industry; criollos, indios, mestizos puros; entrepreneurial endeavors, legendary imperatives, the Porfiriato -- so, so good. Idk if it is still in print, but Desperate Housewives wishes it were so juicy. Roman-fleuve. The tone is a little dry, but what they are writing -- page after page! -- is so nerdily gripping.
À la prochaine xoxoxoxo