We’re back from a busy, sunny, happy two weeks in New Zealand. In New Orleans it’s cold – real, turn-on-the-heat, cover-up-the-plants cold. It doesn’t seem that long ago since Cartier, our mail man, was walking around with a towel tucked under the bundle of mail, another towel draped around his neck. This week he’s wearing a heavy winter jacket and a hat with ear flaps.
My friend, Michelle Falkoff, flies in today from Iowa City. She says that the weather here sounds like “summer, with a light sweater” compared with Iowa.
Today is Epiphany, which means the Christmas tree must come down and carnival season begins. Tonight the Phunny Phorty Phellows will ride the streetcar along St Charles Avenue to “herald the arrival of Mardi Gras.” Though it’s already heralded, in fact, by the stack of glittering King cakes at Rouse’s supermarket.
It was hard saying goodbye to everyone at home on Sunday, because my mother was just about to go into Auckland Hospital for a major operation. She had the operation on Tuesday (NZ time), and is now out of the critical care unit and back in the regular ward. In good spirits, everyone reports, despite the marauding gangs of doctors/residents who insist on inspecting her, and despite the hospital food. (She was offered a choice of porridge or Rice Bubbles for breakfast; to my mother, this is like a choice between mud and dust. The day my mother was admitted, the hospital tried to serve her a Marmite sandwich, and my sister was summoned in to bring an emergency real lunch.)
My mother’s dear friend in Luxembourg, Cynthia Albrecht-Lelliott, is about to go into hospital as well, so I’m sending her lots of love and good wishes. Cynthia is my sister’s godmother. She let me stay in her house in Kent this summer, and also hosted me and Sarah Ehrlich in Luxembourg during the annual anniversary celebrations. Cynthia is a generous, warm and indefatigable person, and I’m delighted that she’s received an MBE in the New Year’s Honours.
I was thinking of calling this post “In praise of old ladies,” but both my mother and Cynthia would kill me. There’s something so twee and doddery about that phrase. And those of you who know Deborah Morris and Cynthia Albrecht know that there’s nothing twee or doddery about either of them. I hope they’re both feeling much better very soon, so they can continue being indomitable for another decade or two.
I'm glad to hear your mother is doing all right, and I have to say I agree with her on the Marmite sandwich.
We are dying of envy that we're missing the reunion of pjkm and msf. Much love to you all.
Posted by: TLB | January 08, 2010 at 02:11 AM