Sunday evening ramble and mom blog

I went to see "Torch Song Trilogy" this afternoon and it was phenomenal and you should drop everything and go see it. Yes, it is three-and-a-half hours, but it goes by in no time. It's super-witty and poignant at the same time. I'll quote from the poignant, because there's too much witty to choose from:

I have taught myself to sew, cook, fix plumbing, do taxes, build furniture... I can even pat myself on the back when necessary. All so I don't have to ask anyone for anything. There is nothing I need from anyone except love and respect. And anyone who can't give me those two things has no place in my life.

***
I normally go to Studio, or any theater in DC, straight from work; why come into the city over the weekend when I'm already there during the week? In this case, there's no work to go from, and--I haven't subscribed to Studio this year, at least not yet--I was very glad to go on the weekend (and thus, the afternoon rather than the evening) because of the length of the play. I mean, it doesn't feel like three-and-a-half hours, but it's still three-and-a-half hours.

Going on the weekend changes the calculus for getting there. On one hand, the metro is at its most unreliable on Sundays. On the same hand, as much as I hate driving in DC and hate parking there even more, Sunday is the day to do it. Also on the same hand, I discovered that Bed, Bath and Beyond had tortilla presses (can you believe that Grand Mart doesn't? WTF??). But only the one in Columbia Heights has it in-store. And that store's not far from Studio (but a bit too far to walk there and back). So I decided to drive into the city and to find parking not once but twice. And I decided that the only way to do this without letting it stress me out--I mean, who wants to be the asshole who stresses over a tortilla press and a play--would be to leave super-early: two hours before the start of the play, to allow for getting to and parking at both places while allowing for routine delays.

So I got in from my morning bike ride in good time, had second breakfast, washed my hair (I have a lot of hair; it's an ordeal), read the paper, and got my stuff together. I was just about to leave the house when the phone rang. It was mom.

Let me take a minute to remind you of a few things about mom and the phone:

(1) Mom has (both parents actually; have) trained me to answer the phone even when it's a bad time, because the alternative is a "where on earth are you/are you alive" message, and this gets even worse when I can't call them back for a while. Once, many years ago, my parents called me around 10pm; I didn't pick up because I was at a party. By the time I saw the call, it was too late to call that night, so I figured I'd just call in the morning. So at 7am my phone rings and it's both parents, who can't understand why I haven't returned their call. So I decided that it's easier to just pick up, briefly, when I do see the call and let them know that it's a bad time but I'll call them back at a better time.

(2) But mom doesn't respond coherently to "it's a bad time." When I say "this is a bad time," what I really need to hear, to get the sense that I have been heard, is something along the lines of, "okay, let's talk later." But what I usually get is, "well let  me just tell you this one thing." and that one thing is usually along the lines of, "the birdsongs this morning are amazing" or "can you believe those bastards at Verizon?" or "can I just show you the mushrooms we picked?" And that usually has the predictable effect of pissing me off. When I say, "not now," I mean it. When one keeps talking to me when I say, "not now," one is showing disrespect. And it stresses me out because I need to be doing something other than fighting to get out of the conversation.

And it's that stress that's the issue, because, especially in light of mom's illness, I am trying really, really hard to be more patient with mom when she pulls this kind of thing. But when I'm stressed, my gut reaction comes out, and that gut reaction fails to account for mom's illness and my determination to be more patient.

When mom called this morning (a minute before noon, to be exact), I half thought, "this is fake timing; I can just talk to them and leave later" but I also thought, "I'd rather just talk to them when I'm not pressed for time; I'd rather it be a more relaxed conversation." So I picked up to say, "I'm leaving the house; I'll call you tonight."

A.: I'm about to leave the house. I'll call you tonight.
Mom: You should have seen "Eugeniy Onegin!"
A.: I'm leaving. We'll talk later.
Mom: You really have to see it. I mean, the singing wasn't all that crisp...
A.: I AM LEAVING THE HOUSE. I AM LEAVING THE HOUSE. I AM LEAVING THE HOUSE. I WILL CALL YOU TONIGHT.
Mom: Okay.

I instantly felt bad, but what could I say? I really didn't want to talk about opera at that moment. Wasn't it also more fair to mom to save the conversation about opera for when I had it in me to talk about opera? I'm genuinely glad that, with all the things mom is going through, she has the opera (and birds and mushrooms) to bring her joy. And I want to hear about them. Just not when I'm about to leave the house. Even for frivolous reasons. But when I'm all set to do something, I'm in the mode of doing it.

Anyway, I called her back when I got home, six hours later. I was happy to hear all about the opera and I may even try to go see it (the telecast, that is). I mean, "Eugeniy Onegin" is in my blood. As my father pointed out, "every educated Russian woman knows it practically by heart." (I do not, but you see my point).

***
It all worked out perfectly: it was smooth sailing to Columbia Heights, and I found parking after only minimal circling. And had I not allowed as much time as I did, the circling would have stressed me out to the point where I'd have quit and driven straight to Logan Circle. But I parked a block away and got my tortilla press. And then drove and parked in Logan Circle (well, a ways out, but still closer than the nearest metro, and close enough to drop off the paper towels I got at the Whole Foods before the show). I worried a bit about my car: perfectly legal parking spot, but you never would have guessed from the ominous "no parking" signs (you have to read the fine print; the most ominous ones restrict parking on a single day, for street cleaning). But I got to Studio just in time and got lost in the amazing show, which was all that I could ask; had the logistics been so all-consuming that they distracted me from the very purpose of going into DC, it wouldn't have been worth it. But the show really delivered, so the logistical smoothness was just (vegan) icing.