Opera And Dine Around

Went to "Sunday Musical Arts" at the clubhouse and saw Mefistofele, performed by the San Francisco Opera Company.  It was wonderful: full of color and movement, not to mention music. Susan was the refreshment person and provided little finger sandwiches and a scrumptious pistachio cake; had same for lunch.
Rushed home after and changed into the black outfit I had worn in the fourth act of Hedda.  Picked Aline up at the Stafford Library at 5:00 and we went to Dine Around at Kristy's, about twelve miles down Route 9 in Waretown.
I impersonated a survivor of the Titanic and attendees got a kick out of it.  Judy and Roman had also assigned various survivor--or not--roles to all of us and the usual silly games were played.  I thought the food was pretty mediocre.  I had the roast beef which wasn't a slab from an actual cow, but thin lunch meat-type pieces (it was surely bought that way) with a bland gravy, probably from a can.
Aline asked if I'd stop at the Chinese restaurant in the shopping center so she could get soup for Sister Susan.  She was again "not feeling well," being afflicted with the hugely vague ailments--slight nausea, dizziness, tiredness, and so on--from which she and many others seem to suffer so often.  Invariably, it seems to me, those who do are overweight and inactive, with the kind of "down" personality that leads them to view life as somewhat of a chore. Susan does almost nothing but lie on the couch and watch dumbavision.  When she goes out, she and her friends shop for useless do-dads; she and they are never interested in anything--oh, forget cultural--a bit more challenging than that.  Yes, yes, I should be more sympathetic, but I find her tiresome.  The differences between her and Aline are so striking, it's eerie.
Got to Ellen on Skype when I got home and we had a good chatfest--aagh!  Where and when did I pick up that dreadful non-word?  Must have been in a movie magazine about six decades ago and it's almost as offensive as the more recent "baby bump."
Opened a welcome e-mail from Marge, who has had still more physical problems in a long line of them.  She's 87 and I suppose it comes with the territory, but I don't have to like it.  Wrote her back to say I'd call her to see if she feels up to having me stop over today.