fourth pres was wonderful, if a bit...uh, white. i mean, it's handel's 'messiah' for chrissake! get happy! sing along! do something! don't just stand there and stare dumbly at the choir and breathe! sometimes i miss the sweat of gospel.
i miss the feeling that this is real, you know? not just a pretty show, but real. soul-shaking. not just intellectual.
anyway, easter services were followed with brunch at the four seasons. wow. talk about WASP. so glad i wore my hat. it was like eating with characters from a 30's novel. the american version of jeeves and wooster. cole porter? but drier. less gay. watching old money chicago eat eggs benedict and ham. fascinating. when you're with rich people you find yourself wondering what it is they do all day. do they worry about anything? i don't think so. they all had the sleepy eyed confidence of people whose money will never run out. they talked slowly, sauntered instead of walked, never made eye contact with anyone and ate methodically (if not thoroughly.) they were pink, wore blue blazers with striped pastel ties, and their loafers gleamed.
but the food was fabulous.