Posing,Well Hidden

THE LADY is apparently very proud of her swimming pool, pool deck, and metal mesh frame serving as a cover over it. No fewer than five thousand photos of it she has posted on Facebook. I have every inch of it memorized,including the water, which,she asures us, is heated as needed. But, probably wisely, she never shows a picture of her house. She must be sorely tempted, but deterred by the fear of uwanted visitors and potential criminals. All those Facebook "friends", who really aren't. Or,maybe she can't afford a house, and camps by the pool. Then too, the pool itself is sufficient to evoke images of a splendid home near it, doubtless her intent. We American humans cannot resist the self congratulatory satisfaction of flaunting our affluance, our pretty material things. When we flaunt with subtlety, as an after thought or in context with a much more imoprtant point, the pride in material wealth can be denied. Her profile says she's married, but she never utters a word about him, perhaps by agreement. Maybe that's where the standard of living comes from. Is he perhaps a fabrication, for protection, or a discarded commodity? Her son, she says, is a lawyer. Again, the subtle hint of affluent success. There is no mention of any black sheep offspring. There wouldn't be. The only pictures of herself she posts on her profile are probably thirty years old, a comely young brunette.Once, and only once, she shared a current picture of herself,a selfie which bounced and reflected between mulitple mirrors as she stood just barely around the corner, avoiding a direct, head on shot. The indirect image is of a much older woman. Gotta keep 'em thinking young, and cute. She never mentions her age, a womanly thing. In keeping with current tastes she provides "pics" of her lunches and beverages, both adult and non-alcoholic. The lunches are all well prepared, fine dining with high end cuisine. Fast food is beneath her. The drinks all come with a sprig of mint, a straw, or even an orhid, which she grew herself. It is, of course,pictured. The orchid, she says, is edible, and is sometimes included as adornment in restaurants featuring the fine cuisine. She shoud know. Whether she eats hers she didn't say. She goes to Rolling Stones concerts, as the wealthy elderly do in this century. Sometimes, classical concerts. But there are microscopic cracks in the upper middle class high cultural armor. She mentioned that she thinks that perhaps "The Empoeror Concerto" is another name for "The Moonlight Sonata". When I explained that a "concerto"and a "sonata" are two different forms of music, that the famous compositions are actually two different pieces of music, and that Beethoven named neither,she hastily dismissed the matter as unimportant, naturally. To accept correction would be to admit error. Once a month she announces that she can "feel" the full moon. Some kind of "juju". I gave it a try, but failed to feel. After all, my house is small, I have no pool, and I eat and drink with the masses.Her frequent mention of the "lawn guy", the "misquito guy", the "pool guy", among many service "guys", evinces images of an army of servants, as intended. She posted: "I do not fear the storm,I AM the storm", I belatedly realized; she is truly a spiritual bad ass, and wanted the world to know it. The denouement was her insistance that weather is an "abstraction". I could not dissiade her. Again, the upper middle class image of cultural perfetion, at stake. I would invite her to stand outside in a hail storm,and to feel her head being pelted with abstractions,but why bother? She would laugh dismissively, as is her wont, and proceed to caviar and minted cocktails, then proceed to the pool for a quick float, just before the next "guy" arrives to serve her immediate needs.