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adrian_turtle and I were in New York seeing my mother, the three of us had dinner with my aunt Lea (and her extremely laconic husband Dave).
Adrian and I both wanted to see my aunt; she likes Adrian, and vice versa. So we walked down there (it was about half a mile from our hotel* to her house), talked, and ate a home-cooked meal, and then talked some more. We spent about three hours before I apologetically said that while I was sorry to end the evening, I was getting tired and needed to get back to the hotel.
Somewhere in the conversation, my mother and aunt were discussing logistics for Sunday, specifically that she needed to get to Port Authority for a bus and the Gay Pride parade was likely to disrupt bus service. (Solution: subway, which goes under traffic, including parades.) Lea mentioned that she and Dave would be watching the parade, and have been doing so since it was much smaller and there were few spectators. I thanked them: the parade is a big extravaganza now, with floats and bands and corporate sponsorship, that's not how it was when I was marching in the 1980s, and it mattered to have people cheering us on. (It still matters, but it's different when the sidewalks are full of spectators.)
We also talked about our trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art earlier that day. We went there, instead of to the American Museum of Natural History, because Adrian wanted to see the van Gogh special exhibit Mom mentioned and we looked at other 19th-century paintings, and sculpture, and random other things we passed. Since Mom and I have been to that museum fairly often, and Adrian hadn't, we asked what she was most interested in: even someone healthier and more energetic than any of us couldn't do the Met in a day. And we showed off pictures of my new cats, including the nice one of Adrian cuddling her.
adrian_turtle and I were in New York seeing my mother, the three of us had dinner with my aunt Lea (and her extremely laconic husband Dave). Adrian and I both wanted to see my aunt; she likes Adrian, and vice versa. So we walked down there (it was about half a mile from our hotel* to her house), talked, and ate a home-cooked meal, and then talked some more. We spent about three hours before I apologetically said that while I was sorry to end the evening, I was getting tired and needed to get back to the hotel.
Somewhere in the conversation, my mother and aunt were discussing logistics for Sunday, specifically that she needed to get to Port Authority for a bus and the Gay Pride parade was likely to disrupt bus service. (Solution: subway, which goes under traffic, including parades.) Lea mentioned that she and Dave would be watching the parade, and have been doing so since it was much smaller and there were few spectators. I thanked them: the parade is a big extravaganza now, with floats and bands and corporate sponsorship, that's not how it was when I was marching in the 1980s, and it mattered to have people cheering us on. (It still matters, but it's different when the sidewalks are full of spectators.)
We also talked about our trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art earlier that day. We went there, instead of to the American Museum of Natural History, because Adrian wanted to see the van Gogh special exhibit Mom mentioned and we looked at other 19th-century paintings, and sculpture, and random other things we passed. Since Mom and I have been to that museum fairly often, and Adrian hadn't, we asked what she was most interested in: even someone healthier and more energetic than any of us couldn't do the Met in a day. And we showed off pictures of my new cats, including the nice one of Adrian cuddling her.