May 21st 1993
Oh, where do I begin? I prepared a Duck a l'Orange for Frasier's homecoming dinner the other night. Frasier loves my Duck a l'Orange, but one would not be able to tell. His mind was obviously elsewhere. Maris seemed quite content as Frasier seemingly kept his thoughts to himself. She likes to eat in silence in order to hear herself chew. That way, if she started to choke, she could tell one second earlier by the sounds she makes rather than the actual choking. Sometimes she softly hums in rhythm of her chewing. Frasier just could not refrain from shooting me looks when he heard her do just that.
I had several imported wines ready to breathe from the uncorking, however Frasier had asked what type of beer I had. Beer?! Of all things so foul. I had known that Frasier had moved across the continent when living in Boston, but I hadn't realized just "how far away" he actually was. Obviously, it will take some doing to redefine his pallet. Challenge accepted.
Frasier was staying at the W hotel while looking for a place. I offered to help him look, but he kept quiet. Has he gone mad? My taste and refinement would benefit him to no end. I suggested a glorious sky rise called "The Montana". It really does have an excellent reputation. Frasier didn't even flinch at that suggestion. Just as well, there is quite a waiting list before even meeting with the board to have your application reviewed.
Just as well, Frasier seems to be dancing to his own tune these days. Not only did he neglect to react to my suggestion of "The Montana"… not even a raising of a single brow… but he is making a mockery of our profession. I was wrong about him become a radio announcer. He will be taking calls and dispensing instant diagnoses and suggestions for people in need of actual therapy. The man has sold out faster than a Barbara Streisand concert.
Today, I found Frasier seated in my coffee shop I frequent. He persisted in having coffee with me. I so wanted a great cup of espresso and a moment of solitude to read my paper. Diary, can you believe Frasier is drinking his coffee black. That pallet surely has taken a ninety degree turn in Boston. Challenge accepted.
I coxed him in joining me with my weekly visit with Dad, since he failed to muster the strength and courage to do it alone.