Blooms and braids

Two days ago (Sat.) I decided to do something that has been on my Someday list for several years: go see the  famous cherry trees on the UW campus in their magnificent bloom.  I was very happy when Sweet Hubby surprised me by wanting to go with me.

We took the light rail (love love love not having to find parking!) and then strolled onto campus.  It was a magnificent day, the air so crisp and transparent, the mountains clear and white in the distance; just cool enough, just warm enough.  The trees were not quite at the height of their bloom, so I plan to go back a little later this week, but still, the sight even of the half-bloom was thrilling.

From campus we walked back onto the main avenue and found an Indian restaurant we had never been to.  In honor of the cherry blossoms, this restaurant was serving cherry milk, so of course we had to try it.  Delicious.

There was one sour note to the day.  As we were walking through the campus, one of the actors in my full length play (currently in rehearsals) called to say his wife had broken her leg and he felt he needed to drop out of the play in order to take care of her.  The director and I were immediately in touch about re-casting that role, and already had some strong ideas.  However, later that day, one of the actresses also dropped out because of an increased workload.  So now the production of the play is being postponed until an unknown time in what I hope will be the not too distant future.  The director and I are not giving up, but I know he's feeling pretty down right now.  I'm actually okay about it because I trust that it's still going to happen, and maybe be even better than it would have been this time around.

One funny note from the day: At some point, I caught a glimpse of myself in a window.  I had worn my hair in braids that came down over my ears along my face, these ridiculously long braids.  I had my sweatshirt tied around my waist and a daypack on my back.  And I suddenly saw that I looked like an eccentric old lady, which made me laugh and laugh and laugh.  No one had treated me as either eccentric nor old all day, and I don't really care much any more what other people think.   But I did get a sense of seeing myself as others might, and thought I looked marvelously absurd and silly.  As I was laughing, I could barely choke out to  SH "How could you let me leave the house like this?"  He was much too diplomatic to respond, but I saw a wry smile which confirmed in my mind that he, too, had thought I looked silly but would never say anything and loved me anyway.