Sunday, January 26, 2003

FFP has been at the club, too. But he took his own car. Got there a little after I did and stayed a little after. Said he might do the hot tub. He was doing stepper next to someone who was also a member of the now defunct Metropolitan Club. She was talking about a lady who was a locker room attendant there and who is now at some fancy downtown place called Mecca. Then FFP is telling her about his Mother Ginger experiences.

At the club some guys asks another guy if he is going to watch the Super Bowl. I think the guy says yes. I wonder if people will be watching it on all four sets this evening while they work out

But I do shower. Then it's way past time to eat something but I get distracted from eating and start making a big batch of tuna salad that just gets bigger and ends up with six boiled eggs, at least four apples, four or five cans of tuna.

My dad calls while I am getting cleaned up. In fact, I talk to him through toothpaste. He is coming over to watch the game only he is coming around three and the game is later. He is really just coming to visit.

He comes while I'm mixing and chopping for the salad. I need more relish and we find a gigantic jar that might have been in the pantry for years but seems to smell and taste OK when I open it.

Then I put the tuna in the frig after a small taste because I like the salad chilled through. I eat some chili because it is 3:30 and I haven't really eaten. FFP has expressed a desire to have a Bloody Mary when he watches the Super Bowl. I've assured him that I can make a very credible one for him. So, what the heck, I make one to go with the chili. [Here's where we shake our heads about her diet. -Ed.] In fact, he never has one because he's afraid he'll sleep through the game. He puts away the Tabasco and lime juice and stuff later I notice.

I go in and out of the wine cellar, pulling a few things down, thinking of cleaning it out and inventorying everything, thinking of what to serve for the party. I don't make much headway but I do decide that a couple of magnums of red wine we have might do nicely for red.

Eventually the game does start and I sort of watch it, but not really. I read the book review and magazine from The New York Times, read some other sections of paper, finish my short story book.

Along the way, I do a quick inventory of wine glasses, good ones, for the dinner next Saturday. I could use more chardonnays but I have some chiantis that will do as well. Do you believe that 'perfect glass for each type of wine and spirit' bunk?

My dad leaves before the end of the game. It really looks like a blowout when he leaves and he says he needs to go 'get into his nest.' He seems more tentative these days. He is prone to tear up now and then if not really weep. He is worried about various older friends and relatives and their ailments.

As I pour more and more into the journal (displacing from other writing? not really, I don't think) I feel closer and closer to putting a password on it. Please e-mail me with your opinion of this and to get, in advance, a user id and password.

I know what people want. Seriously, I figured out, after being retired, having time to choose freely, agonizing over it, what people want. Me, at least. (Which is, yeah I know, different from 'people,' I'm not everybody.) People want things to be simple but rich and complex. They want complexity and nuance but they want to avoid mess and confusion. This seems contradictory and it is. This tension is the primary driver of modern rich America. In the third world, they are still looking for basics and that tends to obscure one's thoughts. Being hungry takes over the brain. Similarly being cold, sick, fearing for one's life.

So, it seems I wasted another day. But I read, I ran my fingers through my 'stuff.' I visited with Dad. Ate. Watched the same Super Bowl commercials as millions of other people.

How about today's title, anyway? You asked. If you lasted this long.

Well, I read that they did this experiment with a meditation technique called mindfulness and people trained in it changed the connections in their brain to this part that creates depression. It seems from the brief article that this type of meditation has to do with objectively viewing one's one thoughts rather than trying to empty the mind or something. That sounds interesting to me? I wonder if journaling and mindfulness are sort of related?

mock-up of menu card for 'New Texas, New Friends' with an image of old Texas stolen from ebay as a background

"Wherever there is a flat surface, someone will find something to put on it."

Col. Lawrence Ballweg

It is not enough to be h

JUST TYPING
A simple day.
With a new book to read.
Things to think about it.
A million images.
A conversation.
A nuance wine.
A new recipe.
A simple day.