The week of May
With your well-being, I start my week from last Thursday because I zoomed to Carré to see my beloved Igone dance after two years of waiting (I repeat: two years of waiting). Igone herself couldn't do anything about it, but our great friend Corrie Covid certainly could. As sometimes happens on evenings with a golden edge, everything went smoothly here with a sigh of wind at our backs. Parking lot for the Amstel Hotel, the best company in the form of my pilates instructor Olga-Isabelle, and a high but perfectly fine spot on the balcony.
It was a strong display of girl power. Resigning from the National Ballet and getting Carré sold out under your own name at the age of 43. The audience was ecstatic. And rightly so. Aside from Igone, who is of course exceptional in every way, I want to take a moment to acknowledge her beloved Thijs, who connected the evening. Just with this last sentence, I do him a disservice because he switched from soft to over the top to powerful, loving, and informative in one breath. It was as if you were visiting a familiar family member and to make it even more enjoyable, a hot water bottle was placed under your feet. That hot water bottle was Thijs.
Furthermore, there was of course Igone, her Ukrainian friends, heart companion Chantal Janzen who danced and sang with yet another friend from the south: Wende Snijders. Aside from wanting to know who Wende's personal trainer is (‘That girl is fit, May,’ whispered my pilates teacher), I want my next theater visit to be something with Wende. It was one of those evenings that lifted you up and made me smoothly sink into my own split during the reformer pilates class the next day.
The weekend was one where I spiritually moved into a split as well. My daughter celebrated her tenth birthday. On one hand a party and on the other... A task. All the girls from the class were invited and, okay, also two beach friends. Oh, and does anyone want to sleep over on Saturday and Sunday? Sure, no problem. When it’s Sunday evening and we’re watching Max Verstappen with a glass of wine, you crave the weekend more than the start of the workweek.
That week turned out to be different in every way. The wifi at the office was broken so everyone made a U-turn home. There I typed away the calluses on my fingers so I could have drinks with our new neighbors in the evening.
On Tuesday, I typed Huissen into Google Maps. We are going to renovate our kitchen and a number of ‘slabs’ (I’m gaining a whole new vocabulary) of quartzite (a type of marble but stronger) from Italy had arrived. It felt a bit like going to see a litter of puppies. The nice thing about sitting in the car for a long time is that you have time to listen to a podcast (I listened to Daphne on Thursday in conversation with Claudia Straatmans) and that you suddenly come across a stall where you can buy strawberries and cherries. I felt like I was abroad.
Wednesday started with a laptop open and flowed into the regular ritual of taking the youngest girl to the riding school. After that, I took three girls out for lunch and we shopped a bit at Joe & Brown on Zandvoortselaan (they have a sale so I would say: go there). As soon as Flo arrived, I was ready with the engine running to drive to the beach. Just a quick dip, then a pizza and relaxing.
And then it was already Thursday. I started by quickly pushing the winter coats to the attic (I get warm just looking at them), then writing, exercising, and going to the office. Seeing everyone again, opening the packages. The best was a box with two bottles from The Good Wine; I know what to do with that these days.
I wish you a wonderful weekend.
Love,
May
