Museum And Mickey

A dark, rainy day in the morning that matched my mood. Happily, both cleared up later and it turned into an interesting and stimulating day.
I left for the museum at 11:00. On my way, Betty called to say that this time, she's lost a necklace. She's sure she had it at Carolyn's or Stephen's or at Al Capone's or who the hell knows where. Anyway, I haven't seen it and don't even remember it. Later, Betty's daughter-in-law texted me on the topic and we commiserated with each other. It helps to have allies.

The museum event was for members; I had just rejoined (at a fee of forty bucks) and got there just as director Elena started her address.  I hadn't had lunch, so was glad to see a nice spread of finger sandwiches and so on. I was even happier to see the fixings for mimosas--a carafe of orange juice and a tub of champagne bottles. I skipped the orange juice--who needs it?--and had a few glasses of the bubbly. I sat with and chatted with a woman name Jill and enjoyed our conversation. I gave her my card and asked her to get in touch; hope she will.

I took a tour of the archives conducted by the archivist and enjoyed it immensely. This is the kind of thing I like most: history found in letters, diaries, newspaper articles, and other homely documents. Incredibly, this portrait of Lincoln was done by writing out the Proclamation of Emancipation:

There was also an address by the author of a book about a ex-nun who was instrumental in improving the lives of Latina women, then the subject herself spoke. I left after that and walked down Main for a bit, then took the bus to the mall, stopping at Trader Joe's for a few things. Home, I rang Suzanne's bell and we chatted for a bit. She offered to pick me up after an Alzheimer's seminar in Camerillo and I accepted. Will register and go there on Thursday. 

On a whim, I called my old friend from Ewing, Michael Ann "Micky" Eldridge and we talked for a full hour. I met her roughly sixty years ago--my oldest was an infant--when we were both young mothers in back-to-back apartments. She had three boys, a philandering husband, and a cigarette habit as vicious as mine. Later, in the first houses we owned--hers in Fleetwood Village, mine a short stroll away on Lower Ferry--we continued our friendship. After many years, she moved to...  

Arizona!  Why, that's where I'm going in February and she's in Phoenix, only about 25 miles away. Of course, we excitedly made plans to meet and I'll follow up with my hostess.