Loose Ends

Ten thousand things to do, but D and I off to Morehead, Ky for the first components of the big circus show Sara is putting together. Dioramas, cute things like TV's, with little figures and spectators. The maker, or his dad, I'm confused, sold their circus (in Australia) when TV became real, thinking live shows were dead. That circus is still the highest grossing traveling group on the continent. First of many pick-ups for this show, and then we'll have to crate it, as it tours two other venues. Then sometime, a year from now, we'll have to return everything. Back at the museum, we unload, and these things are delicate, store them in the vault. D has to leave because of a sick baby at home and I have to clear the back hallway of crap brought in for the next benefit auction. Finally lunch at 3, then normal Thursday janitor stuff, then prep the theater for dress rehearsal of "Wind In The Willows", then ready to go home, dragging ass, when I realize the main gallery has to stay open because the kids use it as a cross-over to get back to the top of the theater, and the back door of the museum is chocked open to allow latecomers and parents to go in and out, which means I have to stay late, because I'm also Security. Focused on getting away Saturday, renting a car, getting to Florida, I think I need a break, so I have two lists, one for my house and one for the museum, and tomorrow to accomplish both. I barely have time to think it might be doable when Pegi informs me that I'm hosting a party for the film crew, her and her assistant, a slumber party, which means dinner and breakfast for five or six plus myself and I don't have that many beds. Sleeping bags, she informs me, and I start thinking about a menu, wondering when I'd have time to cook. If we ate fashionably late I could do ribs, with slaw and bread, call it a meal. I could make a cold cherry soup ahead of time, olives and cheese, Key Lime pie, if I could borrow an oven, nothing is impossible. But no one actually believes the janitor, leaning on his mop, though it might be a key to understanding, because he might be stupid, or at least understand less than we imagine we do. I'm not the brightest bulb in the array, I don't compete; driving back from Morehead, I was just looking around, swells of pasture and outcroppings of limestone. Northern Kentucky is so beautiful, southern Ohio, the hardwood capital of the world, look at these trees and look at my trousers. What did I think I meant? Nothing if not other.