Cezanne et moi

I’ll make a deal with my iPad. I’ll figure out how to use accents over vowels if the iPad stops messing with my spelling. For example, I just wrote peut (French for first person ‘could’) and my computer turned it into Pete. So, Cezanne doesn’t have an accent over the first ‘e’. You know who I mean.

The production of “Cezanne et moi” was on PBS tonight. It was good, sad. I was hoping Cezanne (played by an actor from the Comedie Francaise) would get to experience his wild popularity before the drama ended. He did not, although the ending credits completed those details. It mostly revolved around Cezanne’s friendship with Emile Zola when both were struggling.

When Zalensky became president of Poland, I was talking with James Konrad, of Czech descent. James thought that since Zalensky had been with la Comedie, he was a comedian. No, common mistake. Comedie in French refers to theatre.

James was my first boyfriend when I moved to San Francisco. He is a doctor and became a vineyard owner in Napa when we were together. When people asked what he did for a living, he would say he was a farmer rather than have the inquiring person launch into their medical issues. It worked. In the city, few asked about the soil.

James’ mother, Annette, was a hairdresser. She put him through medical school in Baltimore. While James and I were still together, I had completed Cosmetology training and Annette came to have me do her hair. Naturally, I was nervous. My boyfriend’s mother, who was a hairdresser. She arrived early and watched me doing the clients before her appointment. When Annette sat in my chair, she told me that she couldn’t have done the styles I had just completed. Now, granted, styles had changed quite a bit.

The only other time I was that nervous about hair was when I was visiting my grandmother. Granny wanted me to do her hair in her bathroom. There wasn’t a lot of space and she wanted finger waves. I had done them in beauty school once, they weren’t part of the license test. Somehow, Granny was pleased.

Right now I’m reading “In the Skin of a Lion” by Michael Ondaatje. Takes place in Toronto in the 20’s. If you like historical fiction, I recommend it. I finished writing “My Mexican Facelift” and am looking at applying for a performance slot with The Moth Radio Hour, PBS. I’m not sure what the procedure is. It might entail a local performance instead of just recording it. It used to be at the Marsh, which would be super convenient. I’ve done a couple of solos there (part of group shows) and I know Stephanie Weisbroth, who runs it. First,the Moth people have to be interested in my pitch that I submitted. I’ll find out. Seems like women of a certain age might find the story of having a facelift in a country that speaks a different language to be interesting. Certainly some humor. On y voie. (Hey, it wrote my French!). Yes, one will see.

Speaking of which, my eye’s doing great!