Thanksgiving in 815 was lovely, although the back hurt like hell.
The afternoon of eating (which included lasagna for Mrs. Dreyfus and I) ended with a brisk walk around the block.
The three-year-old walked into the kitchen, lugging a giant coffee table book called "Wine." She could barely carry the thing, which she presented to the long-haired grandmother.
"Read this to me!" she demanded.
On Friday, Mr. and Mrs. Dreyfus and I took a quick drive into town for gas and lottery tickets, and then hightailed it back home (the photo above was taken during the drive).
Later we watched the classic 1951 Hindi film Awara, starring Prithviraj Kapoor and his son Raj, who directed and produced the film. (The venerable family of actors spans five generations and can be compared to the Barrymores, minus the current offering).
The film was riveting from the start and is a must-see.
But we were all tired, and Dreyfus soon fell asleep - only to awaken some burning questions:
"What's with all this crappy dancing and shit?"
"You mean they do this for three whole hours?"
In the end, he loved the film, too.
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Later I had the pleasure of meeting the newest member of the Dreyfus family, Madelyn MacKenzie, and visited with her older sister - who is rapidly approaching the age of two.
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On the way home Friday night I stopped at the Gateway Theatre to see Rahat Fateh Ali Khan. It was 9:30PM - an hour into the show and already past my bedtime. I scored a $75 seat for $55 and found myself eight rows from the stage. Rahat and party were in the middle of a set of light ballads. I waited it out - despite the fact that they were overamplified and the audience was overperfurmed. It paid off; after about 45 minutes they did some amazing qawwali music, and it was wonderful. The concert was still going strong when I left at midnight.
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Last night TR and I dined at Klay Oven and then went to see an all Indian / Sri Lankan version of A Midsummer Night's Dream, which was performed in eight languages (Tamil, Malayalam, Sinhalese, Hindi, Bengali, Marathi, Sanskrit and English) and directed by Tim Supple. There was music. There was dancing. There were acrobatics and martial arts. Puck was the best one I've seen. There was even an encore. (And while watching the play, I realized that the way the fairies play with the mortals (and the way in which the mortals are enslaved by their emotions) is similar to the concept of Lila, or God's play). It runs through Sunday at the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre; more info here.