I ask you this not because I wish to enjoy some phone fornication with you, but because here’s what I have on and we must discuss this travesty.
I’m sporting a floral pajama top that my Aunt Mary sent me for this, my convalescence, along with a DIFFERENT floral pajama bottom she sent to be worn during this, my—oh, you know the drill.
The point is, I’m dueling flowers, right now. Ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding.
I have had this outfit on all day. I haven’t showered. I’ve been in the yard with the pets. Soon I’ll be the house kids will dare each other to go up to.
Mostly I’ve showered each day since being homebound, and I always shave my legs. Which, why? The only people seeing me now are in fact not people, and have unshaven legs themselves.
I guess if I do stop shaving my legs it means I’ve given up on the niceties in life, and we have approximately 7 niceties left at this juncture. So I cling to what I have: grooming.
I don’t know what you’ve been doing to pass the time but one thing I’m NOT doing is reading doomsday social media posts. If that’s how you handle things, go on witch yer bad self, gloom-shedder. I’m looking at the CDC once a day and going on with the day. Here in the house. But whatever.
Today I made biscuits. No, that was yesterday. Yesterday I made biscuits.
Today I made quiche. In my continuing trend of being oddly prepared for this sort of thing, my mother left a pie crust behind, as you do. So I used the eggs she also bought while she was here, along with the half and half she purchased to render her coffee as heart unhealthy as possible. Both items were nearing expiration, like her heart, so I wanted to use them.
I also had frozen broccoli on hand and also much cheese, so a quiche was born. Quiche. Soft as an easy chair.
ONNNNNNNE quiche that is shared by…no one.
Given that I have eaten in a restaurant not at all since early February, I have lost some pounds. Not, like, oh my good look how good I look pounds, but like five. Also, I have not raided the work vending machine, which was a daily habit that’s now gone. Also, too, the only drinks I have here are coffee and water. It’s like I’m at a conference each day.
Other than cook and work—which is nice to be doing again, actually—I’ve found a bunch of online classes from Harvard and Dartmouth and so on that you can take for free.
I signed up for Intro to Italian Opera, because my only knowledge of opera is Gayle King.
My opera knowledge is the following: I’ve got the orange that rolls around and gets eyelashes
And also Bugs Bunny with the Barber of Seville.
And then finally both Cher and Julia Roberts being taken to the opera for the first time and finding it delightful and moving and WHY?
That’s it. Mostly I’ve learned you must wear red lipstick to the opera.
So I started my first class tonight and have already learned a few things. One, Mozart lived in Austria but did Italian opera because that was the thing to do then. He followed some 1770s influencer on TakesALongTimeStagram and did what everyone else was doing. He saw cute Austrian lifestyles on Bayonet-terest.
Hey, you know, I started staying home in February and now you all are doing it. I’m totally an influenza-er. My staying at home thing went viral. I did it and it spread.
Okay, class. Back to Mozart. Don’t make me write names on the board.
The music Mozart wrote was for instruments we don’t use now and for voices that were trained differently. So probably his stuff sounded different then. Also also I learned that someone writes the libretto, and those are the words to the opera written by a liberal snowflake.
The words aren’t as important as the music. Turns out—according to my online professor with whom I plan to have a giant cyber affair and it will be scandalous and many operas will be written, mostly by Stedman—the music conveys the drama just as much or better than the words themselves. So you don’t need to know Italian to enjoy an Italian opera.
Next I’m going to learn close listening. …Did you just say something?
Anyway, that’s what I’ve learned thus far, and thank you for coming to my Sted Talk.
The other thing I’ve done is play with my Google Arts & Culture app. You know how I’m forever going on there and taking a selfie that they match with some art, and they always find some painting I allegedly resemble that’s some dude with June hair?
Turns out that app does all sorts of other cool things, too, like take you on virtual tours of museums and OH! Look at THIS!!
You can take paintings and project them onto anything you’re looking at through your camera! Here’s Edsel under Bild mit zoo rhinoplasty or whatever.
Oh, oh, oh, and here’s another thing the app will do! Take a picture of anything, and it will find art that matches the colors of your photo!
Okay, so I just aimed my camera randomly. And here’s the art it found that had these colors.
Let me do it again with this room. Hang on.
Oh my god, that’s so much fun. Okay, here’s what they found…
Squeee! Oh, that’s fun.
I’ll talk to you soon, when I will have more things to tell you about opera that you never wanted to hear. Now I must go do a lot of work, and check in with me later on whether I’m glad to be back.
June il Vecchio