Saturday was a coincidence day--bumping into probably ten or so acquaintances on the streets of Brooklyn, culminating with a ten p.m. conversation between Chris and his Tulane college friend in our living room that went something like this:
C: My phone's buzzing. Oh, no way. I haven't talked to my old friend Xavier in two years. I'll call him back tomorrow.
College Friend: Xavier's a pretty unusual name. I've only ever met one person named Xavier. I partied with him when I was visiting NYU in 1994. His dad was a radiologist.
C: (Stunned silence.) Xavier UnusualLastName??
CF: (Stunned silence.) Yes!
and so on.
These kinds of stories are only ever interesting to the parties concerned but suffice it to say it was all very Twilight Zone.
Sunday my sister and I went to morning service at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine on the Upper West Side. It was stunning, obviously. The service was very moving. It happened to be the retirement service for a priest who'd been with the Cathedral for twenty-five years. It was very simple, humble, and beautiful, and somehow intimate despite the vastness of the surroundings. I think I'll go back. It was pouring rain so we didn't tour the grounds to see the peacocks.
Then I came home and organized my closet and dresser drawers and did all my lingering hand washing and hung things up to dry and Chris and I watched an old Errol Flynn movie called Captain Blood. Olivia de Havilland was HOT. I always think of her as sort of mousy because of Gone With the Wind, but not at all.