I went swimming, only for a few minutes. While I was gone, she sat in the backyard next to the two Moonshadow rose bushes; later I clipped one and gave it to her. We went to dinner on Beverly and she had the pork leg and I had the duck breast; I also had a glass of Barolo. I recognized a face without knowing the name but the people at the next table said it was Sumner Redstone. All day long I wanted to make crème brûlée; I suppose because she had made the first apricot tarts of the year, and I'm competitive. But I didn't before we went to dinner. At dinner there was a small mishap, nothing major, but the restaurant, very kindly, gave us a tiramisu anyway, so there went the idea of having her tarts for dessert. We drove back to Los Feliz. While she found a movie, I picked up some cream. I made the crème before we watched the movie; it didn't take long to make them and they set in thirty-eight minutes. They're now in the refrigerator and I will burn the sugar on them tomorrow. Today was our eleventh anniversary of being a couple. She said that crème brûlée and tiramisu both were from a time at restaurants before we even knew each other. But Moonshadow the rose is not.
