So I’m writing this on April 19, 2022. This morning, we drove to Fort Worth – part of our new mission to explore Texas and stomp our ennui into the ground.
We got a late start. Martha blamed herself for it because she did a lot of packing, unpacking, and re-packing. She was a bit upset about the delay until I pointed out that we were on vacation and there was no particularly good reason to hurry. She admitted that was true and said she felt better.
Then, I added, besides, (insert sound of really annoying masculine, patriarchal, mansplaining here), she’s a woman. And women are supposed to freak out when they’re packing for trips. If they didn’t, think of all the sitcom jokes that would never get made. She agreed with that, too, and then threatened to whack me with a mashie-niblick. I wasn’t frightened. She doesn’t own one. Of course, we will be visiting antique shops in Fort Worth. Must remember to watch out for flying obsolete golf clubs. With backspin. (It’s the backspin that gets ya.)
We left Georgetown around 11 a.m. I took the first shift and Martha took the second. I wasn’t too worried about her time behind the wheel. She has been driving freely for the last few weeks.
Though, come to think of it, today was the first time she’s driven on the highway since her fall. So, maybe I *should* have been more worried. But, too late now. Hate to miss out on a good opportunity for useless worrying. Oh, well. Tomorrow’s another day, and I’m sure I’ll find something to obsess about then.
We went straight to the downtown area. We even found a parking lot right around the corner from the Bass Performance Hall. This is a large concert and music venue on Commerce Avenue. It is also a rather impressive building…huge, white, and with two enormous, horn-playing angels on the facade out front. When I first saw it, I thought it was an incredibly ornate Mormon temple with the angel Moroni somehow doing a double act with himself. Not sure how that would work. Maybe it would involve quantum leaping between notes. Or something.
Anyway, of this (rather blasphemous) notion I was quickly disabused by the kindly editors of Wikipedia, and from the same source I’ve learned that it is “the permanent home to the Fort Worth Symphony Orchestra, Texas Ballet Theater, Fort Worth Opera, the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition, and Cliburn Concerts.” And as for the angels, they are the work of the Hungarian sculptor Márton Váró.
Angels we have heard on high...or was it while high? Whatever.
I’ll post a picture here of the building with its angelic musicians. But it will be a photo I took last summer. Today, though, we had a rather odd image. There was a man in an enormous cherry picker-stye machine doing some sort of work on the facade. It looked like he was having a conversation with one of the angels. Or perhaps he was suggesting something new for the act. “Look, I know you love Henry Purcell, but maybe you could try a little Miles Davis.”
I’ll post a picture of that, too.
Let me whisper into your ear...
Anyway, we parked, and then we walked to lunch. To my amazement, Martha made it all the way to the restaurant with only her cane. In fact, I just checked my pedometer app and discovered that today we walked a total of 2.8 miles.
Not bad at all. Particularly when you think of how far Martha had to come in terms of her recovery before she could make that distance.
Next time, I will get into lunch. Or, to put it another way…
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If you like what I write or the videos I produce, and feel you could make a small contribution to support my efforts, please go here:
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Again, I don’t mind if you don’t. I just want to provide you with the option so that I won’t feel quite so much like I’m just tossing my works into the wind.
Either way, thanks hugely for dropping by the blog :-)
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