The Visible Woman...May 2, 2003

checking things off the list

I struggle to get up, thinking I have lots to do. My exercise regimen, pick up the subwoofer, take Dad for a follow-up on the hearing aids, figure our April budget, sign some papers on an investment. Not much of a list I know. But it's what passes for a busy day for me.

I go to club and do fifteen or so minutes on the bike, do my 'lower body' workout (also includes biceps and triceps) and then get back on the bike for twenty minutes or so. With all this time in the gym, you would think my body would be turning into a scultped wonder. You would be wrong.

At home, I shower up, eat a sandwich and some carrots and onions. I clean out the piles of books and magazines in the back bathroom. I find a book I started but didn't finish, another I want to read. I find years-old magazines. I find catalogs, newspaper sections, an Austin magazine from last August touting restaurants that are now out of business. I've been meaning to write about my reading habits. This is fuel for that fire, I suppose. What gets read in the bathroom. I have a book on great theorems of mathematics on the go there now. I throw out a stack of old Money, GQ, Texas Journey (AAA mag), catalogs and other stuff. I take a few into the disaster area that is my office.

I start entering the budget for April. It's a disaster area in every category. But, the good news is not all the stuff is really actually going to recur every month. If that were the case, we would run out of money one day but not for a while. Still, we should pay attention to where it's going. So I dutifully enter all the categories. In the midst of this, Dad comes over. He's been playing games at his church. He came over early for his appointment with the hearing aid guy so we could get the sub woofer that we had repaired which is more convenient (possible?) in the van. It's a big square and heavey component. We go get it, bring it home and I test it by putting on an LD of Terminator II.

We go to the hearing aid place and they adjust his left one so it won't get feedback and lower the background noise a little. Later, he will probably want to hear this more but it takes time to get used to it, the guy says. This guy is our renter who is leaving us (and selling the business to another guy) and he asks if I'm mad at him. "How could I be mad at someone for retiring?" I ask.

Dad and I get some water at home and read some of the paper. The guy comes with the paers for us to sign and we do that. Dad goes home to "take a rest before going out." He's going out to eat with two couples in his neighborhood. He's forgotten where. [It turns out one of the neighbors is barbecuing some chicken.]

It's time, yep, to sit in front of a spreadsheet, sort receipts, look up credit card bills online, go through checks written. Finally, I finish it. I think I more or less got everything in there. It's a ugly month for spending. But all these expenses won't recur. She said hopefully.

I finish up the budget around five o'clock. So...that was pretty much my 'day' and then evening arrives. I have a slice of provolone and some black olives (OK...the whole can), turn on the TV in my office, write a bit. FFP says we are going out at 7:30 (to our club with our friends to celebrate anniversaries) and that he is wearing a tie. I could have found the time by looking at our calendar. But I ask him instead.

I change. We go to the club. It turns out himself said he was wearing a jacket but NO tie.

We order drinks (vodka/tonic for me, Crown Royal and water for FFP) and soon our buddies arrive.

We order some Asian Nachos (ultimate fusion, I guess) and FFP and I get a salad. I have ruby trout with a pistachio crust and a light creamy sauce and it's delicious and the vegies are a crisp julienned bunch of carrots and zuchinni that tastes great. FFP says his Boursin-stuffed chicken is not good, overcooked. The special tenderloin that our Sam got is in a pastry. I'm sure the young and inexperienced waiter didn't mention this. It must have been OK because Sam ate half and took half home. Deb had some Halibut which she declared just 'OK.' Probably not the best. We had loads of coffee and our guests shared a chocolate dessert. FFP had some mixed berry pie. I drank a bunch of coffee.

I had forgotten the card and gift I had for the anniversary so they stopped by our house briefly. We'd all had a cocktail and shared a bottle of wine at the club so no one really wanted anything more except FFP who poured himself a nightcap. They raved over their present and card, we talked briefly and they went home. My friend is tired of her job and its pressures and wishes she could retire. This is a message I constantly get from people about my age who are still working.

I mention in passing my reading habits. I do read a lot, I guess, nowadays.

I read on the bike, of course, and at stop lights. And occasionally in bed. I usually read newspapers in my chair when we stay home and are allegedly watching TV. I read magazines while sitting in my seat before concerts start. I read when I eat (usually newspapers). In this house books move around as FFP reads all or bits of them, considers reading them and as I do the same. We take The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times and The Austin American-Statesman. We pick up a copy of the (free) Austin Chronicle every week. We get the West Austin News every week because FFP writes for it.

We take The New Yorker and Harper's. We subscribe to other magazines for brief periods then stop. We get Texas Monthly although FFP often takes it upstairs and I sometimes I don't read it.

So, yeah, count 'em up...twenty-one newspapers a week, a The New Yorker most every week, other magazines every month. There is so much to read and all of it suggests...more reading. It seems the kind of books I read suggest overtly or subtlely other reading.

I've been reading some 'math for the masses' books and other non-fiction. I've been reding a bit of fiction. I feel like I need to educate (or re-educate) myself for the rest of my life. And I feel like I'm falling hopelessly behind. It seems I read about forty or fifty pages of my books while in the gym each day, depending on the type face and the difficulty of the material and how long I ride the bike that day. There truly isn't enough time to read and study everything. Let alone write what I'd like to write.

I consider ditching this journal in favor of other writing or maybe just reading and studying and doing. But somehow the journal seems to be a base that is necessary to support anything else. Is this true? Or is the journal an illusion of progress, a crutch?

formal dining

"Life would be intolerable but for its amusements."

George Cornewall Lewis

JUST TYPING
The steady drift of change.
You can't lock in.
The springiness of your skin.
Nor assure the working order of a thing.
Nor keep a tenant forever.

Friday, May 2, 2003

A Journal from Austin, Texas. A Project of LBFFP Stealth Publishing.

			checking things off the list I struggle to get up, thinking I have lots to do. My exercise regimen, pick up the subwoofer, take Dad for a follow-up on the hearing aids, figure our April budget, sign some papers on an investment. Not much of a list I know. But it's what passes for a busy day for me. I go to club and do fifteen or so minutes on the bike, do my 'lower body' workout (also includes biceps and triceps) and then get back on the bike for twenty minutes or so. With all this time in the gym, you would think my body would be turning into a scultped wonder. You would be wrong. At home, I shower up, eat a sandwich and some carrots and onions. I clean out the piles of books and magazines in the back bathroom. I find a book I started but didn't finish, another I want to read. I find years-old magazines. I find catalogs, newspaper sections, an Austin magazine from last August touting restaurants that are now out of business. I've been meaning to write about my reading habits. This is fuel for that fire, I suppose. What gets read in the bathroom. I have a book on great theorems of mathematics on the go there now. I throw out a stack of old Money, GQ, Texas Journey (AAA mag), catalogs and other stuff. I take a few into the disaster area that is my office. I start entering the budget for April. It's a disaster area in every category. But, the good news is not all the stuff is really actually going to recur every month. If that were the case, we would run out of money one day but not for a while. Still, we should pay attention to where it's going. So I dutifully enter all the categories. In the midst of this, Dad comes over. He's been playing games at his church. He came over early for his appointment with the hearing aid guy so we could get the sub woofer that we had repaired which is more convenient (possible?) in the van. It's a big square and heavey component. We go get it, bring it home and I test it by putting on an LD of Terminator II. We go to the hearing aid place and they adjust his left one so it won't get feedback and lower the background noise a little. Later, he will probably want to hear this more but it takes time to get used to it, the guy says. This guy is our renter who is leaving us (and selling the business to another guy) and he asks if I'm mad at him. "How could I be mad at someone for retiring?" I ask. Dad and I get some water at home and read some of the paper. The guy comes with the paers for us to sign and we do that. Dad goes home to "take a rest before going out." He's going out to eat with two couples in his neighborhood. He's forgotten where. [It turns out one of the neighbors is barbecuing some chicken.] It's time, yep, to sit in front of a spreadsheet, sort receipts, look up credit card bills online, go through checks written. Finally, I finish it. I think I more or less got everything in there. It's a ugly month for spending. But all these expenses won't recur. She said hopefully. I finish up the budget around five o'clock. So...that was pretty much my 'day' and then evening arrives. I have a slice of provolone and some black olives (OK...the whole can), turn on the TV in my office, write a bit. FFP says we are going out at 7:30 (to our club with our friends to celebrate anniversaries) and that he is wearing a tie. I could have found the time by looking at our calendar. But I ask him instead. I change. We go to the club. It turns out himself said he was wearing a jacket but NO tie. We order drinks (vodka/tonic for me, Crown Royal and water for FFP) and soon our buddies arrive. We order some Asian Nachos (ultimate fusion, I guess) and FFP and I get a salad. I have ruby trout with a pistachio crust and a light creamy sauce and it's delicious and the vegies are a crisp julienned bunch of carrots and zuchinni that tastes great. FFP says his Boursin-stuffed chicken is not good, overcooked. The special tenderloin that our Sam got is in a pastry. I'm sure the young and inexperienced waiter didn't mention this. It must have been OK because Sam ate half and took half home. Deb had some Halibut which she declared just 'OK.' Probably not the best. We had loads of coffee and our guests shared a chocolate dessert. FFP had some mixed berry pie. I drank a bunch of coffee. I had forgotten the card and gift I had for the anniversary so they stopped by our house briefly. We'd all had a cocktail and shared a bottle of wine at the club so no one really wanted anything more except FFP who poured himself a nightcap. They raved over their present and card, we talked briefly and they went home. My friend is tired of her job and its pressures and wishes she could retire. This is a message I constantly get from people about my age who are still working. I mention in passing my reading habits. I do read a lot, I guess, nowadays. I read on the bike, of course, and at stop lights. And occasionally in bed. I usually read newspapers in my chair when we stay home and are allegedly watching TV. I read magazines while sitting in my seat before concerts start. I read when I eat (usually newspapers). In this house books move around as FFP reads all or bits of them, considers reading them and as I do the same. We take The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times and The Austin American-Statesman. We pick up a copy of the (free) Austin Chronicle every week. We get the West Austin News every week because FFP writes for it. We take The New Yorker and Harper's. We subscribe to other magazines for brief periods then stop. We get Texas Monthly although FFP often takes it upstairs and I sometimes I don't read it. So, yeah, count 'em up...twenty-one newspapers a week, a The New Yorker most every week, other magazines every month. There is so much to read and all of it suggests...more reading. It seems the kind of books I read suggest overtly or subtlely other reading. I've been reading some 'math for the masses' books and other non-fiction. I've been reding a bit of fiction. I feel like I need to educate (or re-educate) myself for the rest of my life. And I feel like I'm falling hopelessly behind. It seems I read about forty or fifty pages of my books while in the gym each day, depending on the type face and the difficulty of the material and how long I ride the bike that day. There truly isn't enough time to read and study everything. Let alone write what I'd like to write. I consider ditching this journal in favor of other writing or maybe just reading and studying and doing. But somehow the journal seems to be a base that is necessary to support anything else. Is this true? Or is the journal an illusion of progress, a crutch?
	formal dining "Life would be intolerable but for its amusements." George Cornewall Lewis

	JUST TYPING The steady drift of change. You can't lock in. The springiness of your skin. Nor assure the working order of a thing. Nor keep a tenant forever.