Elaine wants to see the Charles James exhibit, as does my dear friend Dr. Rita Pettiford, who came in from New Jersey to see it. (Rita is helping someone write a book about this and she is my glamorous friend who is kind enough to hang out with a slug from Brooklyn, like me). :)
We ride up to Penn Station and take the M4 from there, (Escalators and fewer stairs for Elaine). We ended up running into Rita at the bus stop. I figured that would happen, so I was right for a change. Don’t worry dear reader, I promise, I shan’t make a habit of it. :)
Rita and I have a blast, talking about all sorts of esoteric things. As we were seeing a designers exhibit, we agreed with my Mom, who thinks Congressmen should wear what NASCAR drivers wear. This way, they can advertise, which lobbyists give them money. There, Charles James, design that! :)
As for the NASCAR theme, I pushed Elaine around in a wheelchair. It’s the only chance, I ever get to be pushy. Gentlemen, start your engines.
I am glad I can make Rita laugh. Even if I told her I didn’t realize how short she is. (I have never seen her without heels before).
I am used to pushing Elaine around in wheelchairs now. It is good exercise. I can boogie to the wheelchair rock. Come on baby, let’s do the twist.
Otherwise, I probably should not be allowed out of the house, unsupervised. Permanent probation…
The calligraphy was great. All taking Chinese in school meant was I could have awful handwriting in two writing styles.
In shorts and sneakers, I felt under dressed for the Metropolitan. Then again, this is August in New York. Face it folks, no one lives in or visits New York for its salubrious climate. A bit like the dialogue in the movie Casablanca between Rich and Louis.
Louis: Rick, what brought you to Casablanca?
Rick: I came for the waters.
Louis: But there are no waters, we are in the desert.
Rick: I was mistaken.
Elaine got out of the wheelchair, so she could go in the gift shop. She rose like the old man in the Quiet Man, who was on his deathbed, until he heard about the fight between Red Will Danaher and Sean Thornton. The social event of the decade in that village.
Then I had to steer her in the wheelchair, trying not to knock the 2500 year old Greek statues from their pedestals. Not the sort of publicity I want for my writing. Being interviewed on TV as New York’s Finest are leading me away. “Mr. Charton, are you really so dense, you destroyed such a treasure?” I would have had to sadly admit yes.
The rooms where the Charles James exhibits were had very little light. I actually hit someone in the foot, with the wheel of the wheelchair. Trying to run people down as well.
The ladies enjoyed the gowns. I just knew they wouldn’t fit. I had this terrible vision of a svelte lady or gay man, going up to the guards and asking where the dressing room was.
Rita liked my take on the dresses, because it was different. A woman owning them, would probably have a maid help them into it. A descendant of a squire helping a knight into his armor.
When a woman told a man, she would be down in a minute, add fifty-nine to that.
(I hear women sharpening their knives. I only bleed fat ladies, you don’t scare me…much).
And I am going back to bed, because the pace in this city is wearing me down, lol.