it certainly is something...

the dog/picture/radio thing last night went okay. someone asked if i had a website showing my photography and i told them my being there was a complete fluke - it crossed my mind to be professional, but i really stopped caring what people thought of this company when they sent out information about the event with me as their main contact.

when i showed up, i saw a woman i used to work with at the radio stations. she helped set things up and we got a few moments to catch up.

-and then my sister called with a request.

my great aunt, a 92 year-old actress, travels every year to the william inge theatre festival. she worked with him a few times and this is something very special to her. she is old, though, and cannot fully be on her own, and was supposed to be accompanied by her home-health aid.

well, her home-health aid came down with a case of shingles (as often happens) and they thought of me.

- this was the information my sister told me as i stood in a parking lot, staring at food trucks and dogs, and the sounds of the radio cranked up on ginormous speakers and the interstate not fifty feet away.

i love my aunt, but it took me a bit to take it all in and finally decide that i would go.

here's the plan:

next tuesday, i fly up to newark to meet my great aunt liz, who will be driven there by her homosexual confidant bernie - who looks strikingly like george papadapolis - from connecticut. we will then fly together to oklahoma and take a car to somewhere in the wilds of kansas for this theatre festival.

i suspect the following will happen:
lots of drinking.

the last time i went up to connecticut to see her and my aunt mary, aunt liz informed me that she woke up every night at about two or three and in that time she did three things: she ate a few crackers, went to the "john," and drank a vodka tonic.

"do you ever wake up in the middle of the night, laura?"

"no . . . not usually."

"i do. almost every night. i'm not sure why - but something about that vodka tonic helps me go back to sleep . . . do you want one to keep by your bed just in case?"

"no - thank you, but i think i'll be okay."