Fight! for the Right! to Pah-tee

I suppose in some ways, this is going to be a more upbeat reprise of this post. As for the title, it is a song by the the Beastie Boys. I never listened to their music, but their leader, Adam Yauch, was the son of people who were friends of my mother's. (I knew them, but not Adam.) I say I never listened to their music, but the title song was one impossible to avoid. And, yes, in many ways it now describes my life.

First, I want to post a photo from an occasion recently when I had a lot of fun. (For the record, I cropped some people out at the right, partly for privacy concerns, and partly because I wanted to edit the photo so that everyone is wearing red.) I wish I didn't have a spot on my glasses (maybe I should have taken them off?) But I like that I am spread out like an odalisque at the right. (One of my promises to myself has been to try to elicit sexy pictures of myself from people with cameras, whenever possible.)

This photo depicts a group of us "pagans" at a solstice party in Central Park in June.  We were supposed to have another one last night, but got rained out, so we held it in the Unitarian Church where I used to sing, where The Mentor changed my life forever on that fateful Valentine's Day.

Actually, my initial interest in these Moon Circles stemmed from him.  Not that he attended them, as they are for women only, but because I thought attending them would make me more like him: colorful and free, the latter in every sense of the word.  Recently I have found them an escape from the drudgery of work, the otherworldliness of church singing, no matter how much I love it, and the burden of eldercare.

Yesterday, I literally did have to "fight for the right" to attend the gathering.  My partner was frightened that if I went out in the thunderstorm (which actually had ended by the time I went out) I might slip and fall and be unable to take her to her surgery tomorrow.

She continues to be disagreeable, which makes the idea of spending two nights in her apartment with no air conditioning (she refuses to turn it on when the humidity is high) even less appealing.  Is she so disagreeable because she's old?  Or is this a stereotype?  Not all old people are disagreeable, although my mother got more and more disagreeable as she got older, albeit in a different way.  My partner is totally unable to laugh at herself.  She is not mean, or cruel, or unkind: just unpleasant.

I was actually thinking the other day that "unpleasantness" as a trait seems to have increased among the general population of all ages since I was growing up.  (Of course then there's its mirror image: ludicrous "perkiness," which has also increased.)  But I don't move in perky circles, unless I'm in a shop or ordering something on the phone. When I say "unpleasantness" I mean, for example, not understanding that if a group of people go out to celebrate someone's birthday, there should be a moratorium on talking about health problems and financial problems, dietary restrictions, and minor annoyances stemming from the venue.  People should at least try to be "entertaining".  Is that a lost art, I wonder?

So, again, please everyone, send thoughts and prayers tomorrow that my partner's surgery will go smoothly and that I will keep my temper.

P.S. I will post some exciting upbeat news in my next post!