Again I'm playing catchup. I've been too tired to write in the evening and too busy in the morning. Today, I won't leave the apartment until 11:30.
Wednesday afternoon, I went out to Riverdale. Although I've driven through, returning from work on days when the highway was completely tied up, I never stopped. I went to visit Evy, a member of the stitching group I belonged to in New Jersey. She and two others were our Manhattan contingent. Evy is a musician and a collector of strange and interesting things. She calls her apartment a mini-museum.
We spent time talking, looking at all the stuff, listening to music. In the evening, Ellen and Pearl, two more members of the "stitch" came to see me. I miss our Sunday evening get-togethers, so thoroughly enjoyed this evening.
Thursday, before meeting Sybille at Grand Central, I went over to the main branch of the New York Public Library to see the Declaration of Independence. I was particularly interested this year after tutoring Abdul to get his citizenship. I'm sure I learned more than he did. Someone should start a program to have all of us "natural born citizens" help immigrants get citizenship. It might make us all smarter and more appreciative of our status.
With a little more time to wait I went to the Transit Museum in Grand Central where they had a wonderful exhibit about art in the subways. For fifty cents I bought a booklet showing pictures of the art in all of the stations. Maybe someday I'll try to see all of it.
Sybille and I had lunch at a lovely Moroccan restaurant then walked through Bryant Park and spent some time listening to the piano player. It's lovely and strange to have a piano in a park.
Friday the humidity finally left us and it was a beautiful, sunny day. I went to Chelsea to Printed Matter bookstore (not what I had hoped), then to ET Modern, a gallery opened recently by Edward Tufte, who has published wonderful books on presenting information in graphical form. He has now become a sculptor, and I'm still trying make some sense of what he is doing; sense, that is, in terms of being works of art. Oh, well.
I finally got up to the High Line, an old freight railroad line that has been beautifully converted to a public park. I only walked about four blocks of it; having already walked miles before I got there. But, I will return.
My afternoon ended with tea and a long visit with Jacqueline, my photographer friend from Kyoto. She's still photographing Japanese temples and gardens, and I'm still wishing I could go with her.