Friday, February 16, 2018. Soup, Salad, Sandwich. Mary Ann is preparing for a two-week visit with our son Jude and his family in Los Angeles. She's leaving in a few days, which means that our farewell meals have to be both uncomplicated and at lunchtime. Today she requests that we go to Lola in Covington, which lately has become her favorite daytime eatery. We begin as we always do, with the house soups. Today's more appealing choice (they always make two soupes du jour) is a lightly creamy potage of mushrooms and some other vegetables. I get the large, she gets the small.
Entrees at Lola tend to be either salads or sandwiches. MA gets the same sandwich one all the time, made with grilled wild-caught (she's a stickler about that) salmon. What I order sounds somewhat exotic. Something about smoked pig. What it proves to be in reality is more or less a ham-and-cheese sandwich with some advanced salad greens in between. Not enough to hold my interest long, but not bad. And certainly enough to get me through the remainder of the day.
On the musical front, I attend a rehearsal for the Date Night event tomorrow night. NPAS will mount this at the Abita Quail Farm. Conductor Alissa suggests that I move around among the audience while singing my song ("If I Loved You," by my favorite composer, Richard Rodgers). I'm glad she told me that, because it gets a good response. It also allows me to hit an alarm if I forget the lyrics, which I almost always do. I start making up lines to sing. That usually gets some laughter. Through some miracle, I always find another entrance to the real words later in the song.
I am also supposed to solo a few strictly straight lines in the middle of "The Way You Look Tonight." I missed my cue--a common problem for me. "Are you okay?" asks our helpful conductor. I will have to find a better signpost in the song so that doesn't happen again. Some singers handle moves like that with no trouble, not only when to start and stop singing, but also what note to start on. I am not one of those luckily talented people.
Saturday, February 17, 2018. MA and I have breakfast at Mattina Bella. It's such a beautiful day--temps have been in the eighties for day, and they are likely to continue doing so--that it was actually pleasant to break fast at one of the outdoor tables. The usual fantastic dish for me: the Blue Crab Benedict. When did the word "Benedict" has shifted from proper adjective to generic noun. As in "Chili Avocado Benedict." At least it hasn't become a verb. "Hey chef! Benedict this for me!"
I spend a lot of the day writing notes about the music I will sing tonight. I can't whip out cards as a crutch, but when I write something with pen and paper, it becomes more Benedicted in the memory.
The evening gets off to a slow start because a few days ago a lightning strike put the Quail Farm's most prominent signs hard to see. I drive all the way back home (about ten minutes away) to get better instructions.
It's at this point that all the other members of our family routinely tell me what a backward person I am for not getting directions from my smart phone. Even Mary Ann knows how to do this. When did my former adeptitude in using new technology disappear? Getting old is for the birds.
The Date Night is a good idea that could use some polish. The Quail Farm is a good place for it. The attendees take up the entire main ballroom in the place, not counting the chairs that neither MA nor I could find for us to sit down. The food was standard reception fare: finger sandwiches, boiled shrimp, deviled eggs, and the like. I think I can bring an event like this to a more interesting level, even at the $55 price.
The performances were widely varied in their musical selections. The good ones were very good indeed. When it was my turn, I went off script about halfway through. The walking-among-the-audience shtick got a lot of laughs. I got back on the script for the last third, and walked away feeling I'd done my duty, whatever that may be.
Lola. Covington: 517 N New Hampshire. 985-892-4992.
