One month ago I had a physical at which I was pronounced phenomenally healthy.  I’m so relieved that we pursued the nagging gut issue with an ultrasound.

It’s Follies day.  I woke up feeling pretty good.  The abdominal discomfort is persistent and I’m accustomed to it.  I did an assortment of minor pesky chores in the morning (hand laundry, for instance), and generally took it easy so as to save my strength for the afternoon.

We’d arranged to meet at 2:30 around the side of the theater, so as to be away from the Broadway crowds.  My sweetie and I got there about one minute early, and had barely started to scan the crowd when we saw them.  Then we went around in circles looking for the entrance to the theater (Mariott Marquis; it’s inside, but the signs are unclear and not very prominent, although none of them actually said “Beware of the leopard”.

The production was really, really fine.  All of the singers were good, but the leads were spectaculay.  Danny Burstein, in particular, blew me away.  So did Bernadette Peters, of course, but I expected that.  Thing is, much as I love the music from Follies I don’t particularly like the second act.  The last production I saw did nothing to increase my enthusiasm.  This time, the talent and the production did a lot to compensate for the weak book.  The whole afternoon– a theater outing with dear friends, my first non-medical excursion in over a week, the brilliant production– left me on a high.

We all went to dinner at a little Indian restaurant a block from where we live, enjoying our time together.  I realized I was getting pretty tired, and when I looked at my watch I realized it was nearly 8:00, by which time I’m normally getting tired.  So I had a full day, used a lot of energy, and more than survived it.  Color me happy.