NICE THING

Peg's Pot Roast Dinner for Six Homosexuals a roaring success, she reports, as did Bonnie. Peg indeed makes great pot roast. You want chuck, incidentally, in a big 3 inch slab. She gets a couple of these, browns them, then cooks them for about 5 hours in the oven. What's been happening though, I notice, as she gets older, is that she gets the meat done all right, but doesn't remember any of the other stuff that goes with it, such as vegetables, or potatoes, or dessert, or wine, or dinner party stuff to nibble on beforehand. Although she does remember to do gravy. Very thick, stand a spoon up in thick gravy flavoured with dill, but still. With, as I said, no potatoes or veg to put it on. Fortunately I had primed both Terri and Bonnie beforehand and they cobbled the rest of the meal together. Even though it was Terri's day off.  Peg had rung her in a panic about 4 PM saying, for reasons that escape me, "I don't think I should be using the stove all by myself!" (Where was Bonnie?)

I can't keep anyone's schedules straight anymore, at this distance.

What I do know is that Peg, having said "I'm fine, I'm fine, it doesn't matter if no one's here for three or four hours, I am FINE!" has now decided she is not fine and Staff are now finding themselves there more than ever. Just as we are trying to cut down. Ka-ching, and double ka-ching.
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ODD KNUT ESTATE UPDATE:

All shares sold and all paperwork done and all three cheques deposited safely in newly formed O K R estate account with me as executor. Cheques which would maybe cover 3 round trip airfares to JFK, tops, Economy, so no fireworks here, but at least DONE. So--check! Re the cheques.

PEG LYNCH WEBSITE UPDATE:

Major magazine interested. Other queries coming in, fan mail, requests, including can they do her stuff and then film it at the Motion Pictures Actor's home in LA, all done by residents, old actors, directors, cameramen and so on. I suggested flying Peg out there to perform her sketches herself. They love this. This would of course mean me having to go to LA too, so what possessed me to say this, I don't know, it's not like it's just down the road. I guess I figure if I say yes to everything, none of it will happen (as usual, in this business) and I can finish painting the cupboards in the piano room.
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THE NICE THING:

Many moons ago, two extremely good gay friends not just of mine but Peg and Odd's--not the Pot Roast Gays, other ones--and such good friends they were considered family--used to come visit from Boston almost every weekend, with their dogs, who played with Peg's dogs, and they'd bring lobsters, or pies, or flowers or all three and everyone had a fine time and Peg and Odd looked forward to these visits, especially as they got older. 

Then, one day, about ten years ago, soon after I had arrived from England for Thanksgiving, thinking we three were going OUT, as requested, I discovered we were NOT going out, Peg forgot, Peg had instead invited 12 people to celebrate chez us meaning I had to throw myself with two days notice into this major meal plus none of the shopping had been done. This, granted, didn't put me in the best of moods, but I flew into action and the night before the big day, Peg comes into the kitchen to say she had just spoken to Gay Friend #1 and they were suddenly not coming, having decided to go to Gay Frinend #2's uncle's on the Cape or somewhere instead. This annoyed me: a) because they were bringing three other people which meant I had a turkey way bigger than I needed; and b) they were also bringing the pies. So, I rang #1 back, and when I found out he'd known they weren't coming for a week but hadn't let us know until now--got pissed off. As you do, when you've just got off a plane and been up to your elbows in giblets and corn bread stuffing and Waldorf Salad with Turkey Nine Thousand Ways to look forward to for the next year plus no desserts for anyone and no canned pumpkin in the house. Our phone conversation swiftly deteriorated, during which heated words were exchanged after I was accused of being a negligent daughter living so far away going to parties while my poor aged parents struggled with storm windows three thousands miles away and #1 was told to fuck off and stop being a silly drama queen. I might have said "old" drama queen.

Anyhow he never spoke to me again. This good friend I'd known since I was 19. Not only did he not speak to me, he "punished" me by never speaking or going to visit Peg and Odd from then on. His partner, #2, I should mention, was devastated, and has spent the past ten years trying to make #1, a hot-headed Italian, see reason. As have I. But, no dice. 

So. The Nice Thing. Is that #2, dear man, has finally succeeded, and the happy couple both went to visit Peg, with their dog, last weekend. And it was--like old times. She reports. 

Except that, of course, my father missed the homecoming, didn't he. Which he would have enjoyed. Daddy thought the world of them both, and would have welcomed them as warmly and heartily as he had always done, as if no time had passed. Ever the gentleman, always polite. No grudges. Except possibly for the Germans who imprisoned him for two years during the war and treated him--not very nicely.

I am missing Odd Knut more and more each day.
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TO END ON A HAPPY NOTE:

Peg's visit to the urologist went swimmingly. After all that fuss.