White Dog grumbled, "planning the opera picnic is not fun, Momma, when your answer to what you would like is saltines and bottled water." Steve wrapped his arm around her and surveyed the rest of the White Dog Army who were assembled for the usual Saturday task of planning the tail-gate meal. "I have an idea I think everyone will like," he said and he led them all out to the kitchen. I was feeling less like I had bowling balls bobbing in my tummy, but I wasn't ready to embrace the idea of an elegant meal.
There was no way I was going to miss King Roger, a virtually unknown operatic masterpiece by Polish composer Szymanowski despite White Dog's arguments that I should stay home and focus on feeling better. To appease my Floofy nurses, I did spend the morning and afternoon resting and staying hydrated. By the time we had to leave, I was feeling a bit more robust. Steve carried our little red and white cooler. The WDA gave extra licks and Quinn said, "I am glad this is a short work, momma. You will be home earlier than normal which is a good thing."
We arrived in Santa Fe and settled in for a tailgate supper, watching the storm clouds building in a distance. The lightning storm they produced added dramatic accents to the open air producton that was full of confict and energy. Steve had chosen a Mexican feast: tostada compuesta for himself, guacamole and chips to tempt my tastebuds, and warm fluffy sopapillas with honey (bready and perfect for my desire to "eat beige"). "What is there to bring home for the pups?" I asked concerned that they would feel cheated. "We already have a plan. They get the extra sopapillas and I picked up some liver sausage to smear inside for them. Left that at home since I didn't figure you would be up for it." I shook my head at the thought.
The Opera was Three Acts without intermission and was over in a little over 90 minutes. We were home nearly two hours earlier than normal, telling the WDA the story of King Roger, his Queen Roxana and the mystical and charismatic Shepherd who transformed their world. They munched liver sausage filled sopapillas and snuggled against us. "WE would not have run off with the Shepherd," Nuka sniffed, "even if he promised us life at the Park and all the duck jerky we could eat."
"Enough chitchat," White Dog declared after making sure everyone was done with their snack. "It is time for momma to go to bed!" "You are SO bossy!" I muttered as I was herded without choice down the hallway toward the bedroom.