This year’s production was The Taming of the Shrew goes Bollywood. Tweedy arrived just in time for us to go down with our roast chicken and another delicious salad, carrots, chickpeas, tomatoes and mint. She’s on a roll. The play was an enthusiastic amateur production, with a largely Indian cast, pretty good stuff for a picnic by the beach and $15 when you are on holiday. Abby and I were at odds, but I guess that’s par for the course as well. She got a text message this morning from Jamie, her 26-year-old beau from the Oregon Country Fair.

Nell called excitedly at 10:00 a.m. this morning to announce that she had succeeded in getting a French visa. After having consulted two contradictory lists of requirements, she decided to go with the one at the LA Consulate website, not unreasonable since that is where she was picking up the visa. As she handed over all her hard-won pieces of paper, including the triumphal evidence of lodging, the lady said “Where is the bank statement?” Apparently she wanted a statement indicating that we had the resources to fulfill the ridiculous promises we had made, notarized. Nell pointed out that there was no such thing on the website, whereupon the lady gave an irritated shrug, indicating she had heard that story many times before. Then she kept on filling in the form and gave Nell the visa.

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