Ice cream, it's what's for dinner.
Maybe it was the late lunch, maybe it was the busy day, but when I got to that point in the day, I ended up at Bev's for a double hot fudge sundae and called it a meal.
Honestly, I didn't have a lot of time because I wanted to make it to the Classics in the Courtyard series tonight because they were showing "The King and I" on the big screen in the garden at First Baptist.
Admittedly, I'm a heathen so what do I know about what's inside churches, but my foray inside to go to the bathroom revealed a few surprises.
Like a computer in the vestibule.
A rack of plastic umbrella bags like the kind I've seen in Kroger.
And a sign on the doors to the sanctuary saying "No food, drink pagers or cell phones."
People need to be told that those things are inappropriate in a room where services are held?
Hell, I'm a heathen and I could have guessed that.
Back in my chair in the courtyard, a church official announced that the movie would start at 8:00 or dusk, whichever came later.
"Dusk is going to win tonight," he predicted. It did.
The air was fragrant with the scent of bug spray as the overture finally began playing and people settled down.
I might have seen "The King and I" once, but if so it had been so long that a lot of it seemed new to me, including several of the songs.
Of course, it was 1956 Hollywood's version of Siam, so it was riddled with things like non-Asian actors (the king of Siam played by a Russian and a Burmese princess played by a Puerto Rican, for instance) and African elephants.
But I wasn't there for historical or geographical accuracy, I was there for songs by Rodgers and Hammerstein and Technicolor sets and costumes.
The blatant sexism of the king's character was an unexpectedly funny bonus, even given an 1862 setting.
Anna: Then how do you explain, your majesty, that many men remain faithful to only one wife?
King: They are sick.
Anna: Oh, but you do expect women to be faithful.
That's one way to look at it.
A woman is designed for pleasing a man. That is all. A man is designed to be pleased by many women.
It was a convenient philosophy for a man who had a harem of wives (and the resultant 104 children).
Why should I discuss what matters with a woman?
Um, because we're smart?
I don't think I was the only one surprised when the screen changed to say "Intermission" with part of the score once again being played.
The line, "We danced to that once in Richmond, remember?" got a big reaction from the audience, even given that it was a Richmond on Thames reference.
Of course there was all kinds of implied romance.
A man, even a king, doesn't say, "You are very difficult woman!" unless he's seriously attracted to you, whether it's 1862 or 2012.
And "Shall We Dance?" has to be one of the most rousing acts of foreplay ever committed to film.
Polka-ing with bare shoulders, bare feet and a man's hand on a corseted waist had enough sexual tension to elevate the whole story suddenly to a romance.
And if this heathen is going to sit in a church courtyard on a summer night, the least I can hope for is a little romance to go with the rustling treetops and flitting fireflies.
When the last little star has left the sky
Shall we still be together
And shall you be my new romance?
On the clear understanding
That this kind of thing can happen
Shall we dance?