Sunday, September 29, 2002

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whimsy on the garden tour

 

"Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure,
Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure."

Shakespeare, Measure for Measure

It is not enough to be happy; it is necessary, in addition, that others not be.

 

 

 

Sunday, Sunday

I get up pretty early and dabble with papers and coffee and old movies on TV. Then I call my buddy Pam and go pick her up. We hit some tennis balls. She has borrowed a racket from my friend LG and it has broken strings and is still much better than I am. We get warm and then go to the gym for some aerobic and weight stuff. Then back to the house and FFP cooks up some chicken breasts and chops them up and makes a chicken Caesar salad.

As I'm driving back from taking Pam back to LG's house, where she is staying, I look at the clock. It's about 1:30. I stop for gas and I'm thinking that the whole day looms and I can do whatever I please. And tomorrow, when I get up, while it's cool if it's cool, I can chop bamboo which I've promised FFP I'll do. (Not that he would make me keep that promise.)

Time slips away. I organize files on my computer. I ponder the value of things I need to find a place for. (There is the ongoing project of simplifying my life, thing-wise, and I'm losing. I read the paper. I call my dad. He didn't sleep well, he says. He says he thinks he'll come over for a visit. He seems a little sad and lost. He has checked his passport and it's still valid (until 2006). He's thinking of going to Germany to visit a friend. If I make the arrangements. I write his friend an e-mail about it. He does come over. We read the paper and talk. I show him a book about scenic drives in America and he looks at that for a while. He points out places he's been. He tries to call some friends who aren't home. Later he calls again and they invite him over and he leaves. I'd offered to feed him, but he clearly wants to go there for a visit.

Not long after Dad leaves FFP asks about our dinner and we cook something up. Some vegies and chicken breasts and leftover cheese for both app and dessert. A great new Simpsons entertains us. FFP goes off to write some columns for the West Austin News and I repair to my office to stare down stacks of papers and my shabby WEB site. I end up organizing a few more files, making one backup CD, putting the old Jennifer Journal on a floppy for Jennifer's Mom. (She's done writing for my WEB page for the moment, I think.)

We watch The Sopranos. It's better than the usual one somehow although I feel I've lost some of the story threads because I don't pay enough attention. I get through all the Sunday papers (although the term 'reading' would be too strong) and go through some of the old ones. Perhaps there is hope for getting the piles of old papers controlled. Of course, I've thought up several tasks for tomorrow that may preclude that. A couple of paperwork things with my dad, maybe sorting through some of Mom's stuff (this is sad work and best done in small doses) and then the chopping of the bamboo I've promised to do. Everyone said that I will wonder how I had time to work. I already do wonder. There don't seem to be enough hours in the day.

 

 

 

 

 

JUST TYPING
Sunday.
Newspaper.
Coffee.
When working, a delight at first.
Then a depression when one realized...work tomorrow.
When retired.
A complete pleasure.

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