cold

yesterday, i headed out about town in search of vodka and tonic (along with "that wonderful stuff i like so much...what is it?...yes, listeriiiiiiiine.) my goal was also to find two sunhats for us because it was 80 and bright and unreal how sunny it was.

i found the vodka and the listerine, but no hats or tonic.

then today happened.

it's 43 right now and getting down into the 30s and raining, so i headed out in search of something warm to wear. i walked to the grocery about two blocks away and got loaded up on tonic and bloody mary mix (for me) and lots of soup.

the most interesting thing about this entire place so far is that everyone adores - insanely adores - my aunt liz. everyone working at the hotel, anyone volunteering with the theatre festival...everyone. we go down a hallway and people stop and take her hand and tell her how wonderful she is and how they missed her last year. every man calls her dearest or darling. and everyone compliments her on some film or play they just absolutely love. and i spend a great deal of time standing off to the side while people gush about her.

last night we went to a small production of the play 'bus stop.' it was pretty good and there were some nice performances, but it wasn't life-changing by any means. but after the production, aunt liz and i waited in the lobby for our friend to drive us back to the hotel and she spoke to some of the performers to tell them what she thougth of the show.

and then a beefy woman with long, fried orange hair and a bright green dress and purple shoes approached us. it turned out she was the director of the production. aunt liz told her it was a great show and she should be so proud, and this woman did what every theatre person does - she stepped back, jaw agape, hand to the chest and shook her head slowly, "oh, you have no idea what that means to me." then she shoved her arm in aunt liz's face for her to see her goosebumps.

this morning, over breakfast, aunt liz said how strange and ridiculous it is the way people approach her and she feels like she's part of some 'act' about who she is and "that director - whooh - honey, i tell you...she was anything but cool...come on lady - lighten up..."

it's getting a bit more routine, but still tiring. i got an email yesterday that i am late in turning in an essay for school. it isn't that much of a big deal, but i didn't think this assignment applied to me for some reason, and so i just counsciously overlooked it - but no, i have to do it. so, in my spare time, of which i have none, i'm going to finish reading this book that continues to make me cry hysterically, and then turn in a paper.

i'm glad i came. it's both wonderful to be with her, but shocking at how fragile she's become. even when i've seen her in the past few years, someone else has been there to make sure she has what she needs - and i'm there to visit. but this is different. i know she loves this place and this theatre festival. she loves william inge and anything that gives her a chance to talk and think about her days on the stage.