Again, apologies for missing a day. Blah blah blah busy blah blah. Monday night, in search of sources for a story, I ended up at a neighborhood cooking night in Detroit, in which four couples get together and everybody makes a dish on the big Viking stove.
The house was a lovingly restored Tudor in an old Detroit neighborhood, and by lovingly I mean fabulously. One of the hosts showed me around the dining room, which had been gutted by fire in the ’70s. So they tore out the quick-fix drywall and had an artisan duplicate the oak paneling, which was stained dark. You could tell it was new because the pocket doors slid noiselessly and without friction. The fern on the dining room table was the pop of color in what could have been a gloomy interior, and of course the custom stained-glass windows helped. The living room was similarly beautiful, and full of fantastic midcentury furniture, which went perfectly with the Tudor architectural details, because good design of different eras can make beautiful music together, when the right eye does the combining.
I don’t need to tell you the gender mix of the couple, do I? My old boss Derek used to say that straight America wants to keep gay people down because we’re afraid they’re going to do everything better than we do. Has there ever been any doubt?
But I got a great idea for a salad — arugula dressed with oil and balsamic, and topped with oven-roasted oyster mushrooms, tossed in a bread crumb/parmesan mix. The artisanal cocktails were pretty cool, too, but I didn’t partake. (Gin. Haven’t been able to keep it down since an unfortunate incident at the age of 19.)
And then it was Tuesday, a swimming workout day, the first one after spring break. The pool is presided over by an older gentleman, a retired teacher who used to be a coach for one of the high-school teams. He told me he’d give me some stroke-refinement work this week, and so he did. Swimming is a repetitive motion, and chances are, once you start, you don’t change much. I always breathe on my left side, and have since I learned the freestyle, maybe 50 years ago. Today he had me do some one-arm drills, breathing on the other side. I am not ashamed to say I felt like I was drowning, even with fins on my feet. But I cannot deny that after a few lengths of this, I felt newly symmetrical. You do a thing, and then you do it differently, and suddenly you can do it better.
He also had me swim a few lengths just regular, but because fins were already on my feet and a pain to take off and put back on, I swam with them. And felt like an OUTBOARD MOTOR. These fish are onto something, I tell you.
And now I’m going to wrap this quickly, because I have yet more crap to do. So…
I’ve heard this many times: A person vehemently opposed to Obamacare is asked, “Well, would you support a plan that requires people to buy health insurance?” Sure, that’s OK. Apparently now it’s a thing.