The Visible Woman Speaks (Coherently?)

Resolutions

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 31, 2004 — I admit it. I like making them. It's like writing a novel that has a character who is you only they do the things you thing you should do. (I guess that's what it's like. In spite of all my resolutions, I never write that novel.)

I don't think I'll recycle the usual suspects this year, though. Not in exactly the same form anyway. I think I'll make some silly little hardly life-changing resolutions. Then when I don't do them I want feel so bad. Here goes.

That's it. Nothing about diet, no goals like brushing your teeth for two minutes or flossing or drinking more water. No specific weight goals. No 'learn to make a movie.' An de-emphasis on completion and an emphasis on activity. That 'to do' list and writing assignment list can encompass a lot of things.

Happy New Year! Only 365 days. But that will encompass 730 hours of concentrated effort on, um, something.

That Trapped Feeling

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 30, 2004 — I want a journal redesign that puts the emphasis on doing the writing and recording (for myself later, not for posterity) the things I want to have to provoke memory.

This current format has been useful in some ways. But, after five months, it has become tiresome. I want to make a change. I'm definitely going back to a single page-a-day format. After holidailies are over, I may not post something every day. I will have a place where a picture may appear. I will write essays and create photo essays and silly 'just typing' riffs (poems?) without associating this work with a 'every day whether you want to or not' duty. Of course, we know this may mean that the journal (or some aspects of it) will wither.

But the journal has become a trap in its current form. Now, of course, the new trap is building a different form, preserving the old journals in some kind of reasonable fashion so I can retrieve them and getting it all set up without wandering off to learn ten new things.

Oh, and there are so many decisions? Keep the comments? Set up comments for each day? Colors. Many, many decisions. Meanwhile I'm in this trap of doing the journal and making these decisions when I should be doing the family budget, planning our trip to New York, exercising and cleaning the house. It's silly isn't it? How something that really is not a priority can make itself one. And sometimes you just have to do that thing so that you can move on and do what you know was more important all the time.

Naturally, the redesign loses its luster when you try to actually do it and you start having a lot of affection for the old format that you know. Still, I think I'm losing stuff with the current format. I forget to include things. I think because of all the rigidity of the different areas. But is that so? Would I have remembered to mention that the friend I was playing tennis with yesterday talked about Andy Roddick, showed me a snapshot she'd gotten him to sign and identified a vehicle rolling into the parking lot as his? I thought of including it as something that happened (chronology) or as another example of how this woman was happy yesterday, just high on her day and what she had. But it didn't make it. It slipped out of the narrative and out of this 'coherent' space. If I didn't have two areas, would this have fallen through the cracks? Does it matter? And, of course, I could go back and add it and indeed everything is open to editing here. No rule against it.

But the change comes. The change is inevitable. The change itself feels like a trap.

Keys to Happiness

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 29, 2004 — If your home had just washed away, but your family was safe, then you might think "if I just had a house, safe water, clothes and food then I'd be happy." But soon enough you'd think maybe happiness was a TV or something.

My dad really does say "the key to happiness is liking what you have." It's a simple idea, of course, to just embrace happiness. Be glad of the one thing you can probably be sure of if you are reading this: you are alive.

And hey, if you don't hurt and have enough to eat and fresh water...bonus round.

People aren't built this way, though. Perhaps the reason that humans have built so many things is that they are built to desire more levels of satisfaction.

Happiness, though, is embracing the things you get when you get them. Even appreciating that you got them after they are gone. I try to do this. I may never again drink a Petrus or a VC La Grande Dame. I might never again get to stay in a Four Seasons. I might never again get to own a new car or give away money in amounts with three or four zeroes. But I got to experience those things. Experiences bring the greatest happiness, too, because they don't need dusting.

And ever time I get fresh water from the tap, even for the dog's bowl, I try to appreciate that wonderful thing.

Imagine Change

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 28, 2004 — Holidailies will be over in ten days or so. A new year begins. I'm going to make changes. Here online. In my life. Yeah, right.

No really. I can see it in my mind's eye. I'm getting up earlier. I'm posting a terser journal but still capturing things that are essential. Brilliant prose, for sure.

I'm doing better on the weight and aerobic work in the gym. I'm getting fitter, losing weight.

I'm keeping the house clean and organized. I'm recovering from years of sloth. I'm writing novels, self-help books. I'm making movies. I'm getting all my ducks in a row for trip planning. I'm learning new things.

Snow, Sunshine, Tsumami

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 27, 2004 — Natural forces rule, don't they? No escape. It can be as simple as "it's too cold for me to go in the pool" to tens of thousands dead.

A few days ago there were record shows along the coast of Texas. Like the Austin area (only moreso) they rarely have snow at all. To me, though, with dry streets outside, it was just pictures in the newspaper. We had sunshine and cool but pleasant temperatures.

Then yesterday the earth opened up under the Indian Ocean. And silent killers rolled out along the ocean floor to devastate populations and tourists in Sumatra, Thailand, India, Indonesia, the Maldives, Sri Lanka. Places we don't think about much. Giant tsunamis roaring across the handiwork of man.

We get three newspapers. The New York Times (our edition, printed here) closes first, then The Wall Street Journal and then our local paper prints in the wee hours, with time to change the front page. The death toll climbed across the three issues that were thrown this morning. From thousands, to 11,000 to 13,000. I'm sure it will keep growing. It is unbelievable. But it is so distant.

Meanwhile we have sunshine and a slight chill in the air. Eat leftover turkey and muddle along. On the other side of the world, natural events beyond our imagination. I noticed a thing in the paper about a debate about what killed the dinosaurs. An asteroid? Or some other cause of extinction?

Imagine our earth as a giant complex SIMS came on someone's PC. How surprised she is at the tsunami or the asteroid hit. How it takes her mind off the war she kicked off in Iraq, setting different factions into motion that she's sort of lost control of as well. She looks away from the screen and looks outside at a sunny day.

Every Little Nuance

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 26, 2004 — The movie Closer reminded me of how every little moment, the odd encounter, the casually uttered word makes a difference. It changes the world's information and, maybe, lives.

Sometimes I think it somehow matters how the pile of newspapers are arranged or how the weights are stacked in the racks at the club. In some way we don't understand, like the bits of information in a giant brain.

FFP and I did a Christmas card once called 'The Game of IF.' The thing was meant to make people quit feeling remorse about, say, not buying a stock that went up a bunch and realize how the good things in their lives, maybe their very existence, were matters of the remotest chance.

When you watch Closer, forget all the awful "let's tell the truth" dialogs (interesting in their own right) and note the absolute absurb chance that brought the four people together and a couple of them together a second time. Unrealistic? Not at all. True to life. Bouncing helpless bits of information? Maybe.

Changes

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 25, 2004 — Change is inevitable and, if not always welcome, well it's just the way things are. We age, we fall, we get up, we gain, we lose. People die, move or decide they hate us.

This journal is going to change, too, as soon as Holidailies are over I'm going to do a serious overhaul. I'm thinking of something terser and maybe not weekly. Then I may use the time to do other writing which may or may not make it to the WEB.

Change isn't always pleasant. But once you see it coming, it can be very liberating.

The Things I Used to Look for in the Holiday

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 24, 2004 — We had our turkey today. We exchanged presents gathered around an electronic fire.

God, I loved Christmas as a kid. (And I only recently graduated from being a kid.) Time off from school. Presents. My grandmother's homemade dressing, gravy, rolls and cinnamon rolls. Seeing all the relatives...aunts, uncles, cousins. Taking pictures of little kids. Gathering, maybe in front of a real fire or around a puzzle or game with hot drinks.

It's all gone now. Oh, we had turkey and dressing and gravy. Costco and Central Market actually did a pretty good job of this. The readymade rolls my mother-in-law brought aren't so bad. The fire was pretty, if electronic, and I had a coffee with Kahlua, Amaretto and whipped cream. Yum.

I got presents. They were nice. Books I liked. A new Scrabble game with more tiles and squares. Money. Some cute porcelain plates. The DVD of the first season of Northern Exposure. (Happily I gave FFP the second seasons.) Other food gifts.

No one got out a jigsaw puzzle, though. And no one wanted to play the new version of Scrabble. There were no delicious cinnamon rolls. No crush of relatives. (Our three parental units just can't create much of a festive atmosphere, hard as they try.)

I admit it: the religious aspects never really grabbed me. I've never been much of a believer. But the family aspects and, I'll admit it, the surprise of fun and unexpected presents and of giving other people things which pleased them, the good cheer and the game playing. I liked it. But I can't seem to get it back. It's not a disappointment even. Because I know that the old feelings aren't coming.

Resolutions

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 23, 2004 — It's that time again when you start to think about New Year's Resolutions. Well, I do anyway. So I thought I'd see how I did on last year's. Because I'm at a loss for what to write about and because I can recycle some stuff. (Oddly, I recycled all the resolutions themselves last year. I'm so lazy!)

Lose five pounds. [In 2003 when I proposed doing this I weighed about 177. Last January 1st I weighed about 153. And I still do! Oops.]
Drink more water. [I still drink too much other stuff (coffee, beer, hard stuff, wine, occasional sodas) and too little water.]
Eat more healthy food. Fruit! Vegetables! Every day. [I fell far short on this one, too, I think.]
Write! Not just this journal. All the short stories I've outlined. All the essays. Start on the novels and non-fiction books. [Total bust, two years running.]
Find an appropriate volunteer activity. [I haven't done well here either. I still dabble at helping causes and haven't found a real passion.]
Travel and, when I do, take the time to prepare by reading books. [Washington, D.C., Normandy. Paris. Alsace. Dublin. And I did prepare with lots of reading, too.]
Pay more attention to investments and our budget. Save money. [We spent a lot of money on the remodel. I payed scant attention to investments. I am so bad.]
Continue my workouts and start playing tennis and maybe racquetball. [Last year I said: Keeping up with an active lifestyle requires constant vigilance. Ain't it the truth. I've played more tennis but I'm getting lax about the workouts.]
Take Bridge lessons and learn more about Bridge. [As I said last year this was a stupid resolution. I have done no Bridge whatsover.]
Cook more. Start making crêpes again. [I am still not cooking much. I heat sometimes, though.]
Get the closets, garage, drawers, shed, yard, storage room clean and keep them that way. [Well, I've worked on it but it gets messy behind me in a hurry. I cleaned out the pantry the other day, though.]
Learn to make a movie. [I went to film festivals. Does that count? Nope.]
Learn more about photography. [Hrmmph.]
Geez, this list is too long...make shorter lists. [I'm still listing. Er, yeah, under the weight of all my lists.]
Ride the bus and write about it. [What I really do is talk about this idea which is so much easier than doing it.]
Get my mother's things sold or given away or packed and sent to my relatives. [I have continued to give away and throw away. Unbelievably, there is still more to deal with.]
Read more books. [I think I read about thirty-five books, a dozen or so screenplays and tons of newspapers. A few magazines, too.]
Do some Windows programming and JavaScript and learn Linux. [Well, I learned a little about Visual Basic and, hence, Windows programming.]
Hmmm...it's the same every year, isn't it? Why don't I make one list for all time (work harder, read, write, exercise, eat better, learn stuff, save money, lose weight, be a better person). Indeed. Maybe recycling the old list is actually a step in the right direction.)

So that was last year's feeble attempt at resolutions. It is discouraging. Maybe I shouldn't make any this year. But I know I will.

Party: A Post-Mortem

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 22, 2004 — It's always good to do a little analysis. As in:

Social obligations reciprocated. Friendships renewed. People cultivated to get involved with our causes. All done with good cheer and no particular disasters. Could use an overall party checklist to be adapted for each event. [Ed. Note: Sort of like the overall travel packing list maintained by the writer.]

When the last guest walks out the door and you are scurrying around putting the house back to our own uses, it feels good. Still, you assess the whole thing a bit.

There is the feeling that you brought people together and fueled the festivity with food and drink and some tongue-in-cheek decorations. The people made it. But you aren't sorry when they are all gone.

I had estimated from the RSVPs that we'd have fifty people. A few people called with late regrets, some came I wasn't sure about, some claimed to be coming but didn't. Counting us and Tony, our helper, we had exactly fifty. The other 47 were: (1) a young (twenty-three) singer; (2) an architect and interior designer who used to sing in Broadway productions; (3-4) a lobbyist, businessman and his talented wife who does lots of work with causes we share with her; (5) our bookkeeper and good friend; (6-7) a couple of retired older (70 and 75) gentlemen who live a few blocks north and also share many of our causes; (8-9) two old friends and travel buddies; (10) SuRu (both helper and guest); (11) my dad; (12-13) a couple of long-time friends who got married in our back yard; (14) an old work buddy of mine from two different jobs; (15-16) another work buddy from last job and her friend who is an IBM engineer (she brought and made a broiled goat cheese, walnut and honey appetizer); (17-18) a lawyer and his wife (also a lawyer?) who share some of our causes and who we are trying to get to know better and to acquaint with Ballet Austin; (19) a young (well, thirty-something-ish) man we might on an online bulletin board about eclectic Austin stuff in the early days of Internet friendships (like before the WEB was the thing...this was Prodigy); (20-21) a guy who is one of the founders of a local company which is now an International success story and his wife...they share a lot of our arts causes and are serious philanthropists; (22-23) a retired doctor and businees owner who share our ballet passion and who give tirelessly of time and money (lots and lots of money) to the arts; (24-25) a guy (referred to as our 'son' since we thought we took him to raise in those days) who worked for us when we did Michael Dell's adversting, PR and trade shaws and his wife; (26-27) my dad's friend who took him on his big trip (Germany, Austria, Iceland, England) this summer and her husband; (28-29) a couple we met at our club who are bon vivants...their first visit to the house and we were surprised to learn we both collect the same painter's work; (30-32) an elementary school principal and his partner who is a wealthy retired philanthropist and the latter's son's ex-wife who is a radio rep; (33-34) a young woman who has a PR firm who we met through someone we met from reading her online journal and her squeeze (who I didn't learn anything about); (35-36) a guy who has a PhD from Stanford and who gave me the job opportunity which led to early retirement and his wife who is also a fairly brilliant scientist and programmer from what I can tell (his second wife, he lost first in an accident); (37-38) an artist and her scientist husband; (39) a friend who is also our reflexologist and massage therapist; (40-41) the across the street neighbors (she planned the aforementioned wedding, he is a police photographer); (42-43) the next door neighbors (he's a psychologist, she's a lawyer for a state agency and they have lived next door for a good part of the twenty-seven years we have been in the house giving them time to get married and have two daughters, the oldest of whom is seventeen or so); (44-45) an artist who is one of Forrest's oldest friends and his new wife (he lost his first wife to brain cancer in 2002); (46-47) a PR gal and her mother who is doing development with Ballet Austin. And, of course, FFP and I and our helper for the party, Tony, a Ballet Austin Dancer. Makes exactly fifty.

Age range? 23-88. Single, married forever, gay and straight. All Austinites except for one gal visiting from California. Some we've known for years, a few more recently met. Several who have entertained us in their homes. Artists, professionals, entrepreneurs. Working so hard they came to the party late or retired for years. Rich and not so rich and poor even. At least one that I know of is HIV positive. One Hispanic, one black. One born in Iceland. An eclectic mix but very much our set, of course. Given that our set is a big tent indeed.

I attempted to make a lot of the party 'self service' and to try to get people to flow around a house with bad traffic jam spots but good overall flow capabilities. (I put wine in the living room but no food so people would move on. I put the desserts in the kitchen so that tey would continue to get 'real food.' I put food in several spots to draw them away from standing in one spot.) I miscalculated some things and did a good job of other things. (Notes to self: Always give the help you hire a stack of kitchen towels at the beginning.)

Entertaining is a lot of trouble and it's good when it's over. But you have accomplished many things. Gotten yourself a few future invites, increased your contacts. And, more importantly, you have strengthened the friendships that make life possible. But, man, it was a lot of work and who would have thought they'd drink a case of red wine?

So Nice All Fixed Up

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 21, 2004 — I like the way the house is taking shape for the party. Some decorations, some festive tables, stuff put away in closets or our offices to make things look tidier. There are serving pieces out at the ready. Tonight I'll clear the long counter in the kitchen by taking the TV into storage and tucking the toaster away. There will be all this counter space, neat and clean.

Tomorrow shortly after six, after I've iced drinks, put out food and thermoses of coffee and created the right ambiance all around (I hope), people will start to drift in. At straight up six, there will probably be no one and we will be terrified of having several pounds of smoked salmon, cheese and several dozen tamales to consume ourselves, among other things. This won't happen, though. Some people will come late, some (who promised to come) will come not at all. Some will be here near the dot of six. But lots of people will show up and bring new people to meet. Someone will show up we didn't expect because we hadn't heard a word. People will bubble over with holiday cheer. Maybe there will be a Scrooge or two. People will not eat what you think they will and consume all of what you didn't think they would. They will leave for other parties or stay until your eyelids are drooping. Some people will hardly touch a thing, others will brighten at the sight of a favorite food or drink. Someone will ask for something we don't have. Hopefully, no one will require the forced taking of car keys. Somebody will leave something behind.

And we will look around at overflowing trash cans, scattered glasses and cups and plates and napkins and sad-looking picked over food servings. And the place won't look as nice but we will sigh and smile and say, "It's over." If we have the energy we will pick things up and set some things right for living in the house without fifty guests. And tomorrow the house will look good, like a place where people have a good time.

I'll be glad when I'm having the party and when it's over. But everything looks nice just now.

The Natural History of Parties

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 20, 2004 — Though I profess to be a recluse from time to time and, after a party, I swear to a life of the hermit, I really have always been willing to bust out of my shyness and invite a bunch of people over to eat and drink.

I have used lots of energy on these occasions: thinking up themes, setting tables, buying stuff, making stuff. Even when I had a caterer I usually did centerpieces. And, of course, there are always things you have to do to straighten up and clean that only you can do.

Parties have left me with lots of stuff that I don't use on a daily basic, just when we have parties. Scores of wine glasses, three wine buckets, tableclothes, several crock pots. (I used to have taco buffets and serve meat, beans and such in several of them.) I have three of those gadget trays that you plug in and keep a dish hot on a buffet. I have two giant stainless steel bowls, used for mass quantities of cold soup for one party. I usually have a supply of paper goods, plastic cutlery and disposable cups. I have a bunch of fine glassware. I have bottles of different booze that we don't drink that often or ever. I usually have sodas and light beer around, left from parties, although we don't drink these much. You always have some left over. When you have another party you hope that you will use them up but then you buy more 'just in case' and you have leftovers again.

I've made many meals off party leftovers. Eating dips and chips, leftover taco meat, leftover cheese, leftover raw vegies (or cooking up the unused vegies from the party vegie tray).

Parties leave a bunch of artifacts. It sometimes seems like a lot of things we own we bought to use for parties. I think about how things would be different if we didn't entertain.

Parties also leave a natural history of interactions. We try most of the time to have a variety of people, some of whom may not know one another, at parties. (Although we have had parties that were specifically for a certain group like all the people I worked with on a project or all Forrest's clients.) People have gotten jobs at our parties and made contacts for all kinds of things. I can't think of any love affairs that started at our parties but it's not for want of trying...we always invite lots of unattached people. I know many people who met at one of our parties and, maybe, became friends in their own way.

It's puzzling why people give parties. Lavishing money for food and drink (a bunch of which may go to waste) and watching their house get trashed and stuff broken. But they do it again and again. Me, too. It feels so good when it's over. I even occasionally enjoy them while they are going on and I get little house cleaning chores done that otherwise would go wanting.

One last puzzlement of parties is the things people leave behind. A cuzzie with the name Sam on it that didn't belong to the one Sam I know, a fancy little purse with nothing in it, lots of sunglasses, a cheap necklace, cameras. Sometimes these are never retrieved. Never found the owner of the purse (a child, I think) nor the Sam.

Well, on Thursday while I dig out from under leftovers, trash, recycling and a pile of champagne and wine glasses to be washed, maybe I'll report on this party and how it stacked up to the long line of parties we've thrown. How many people I didn't know showed up, what they consumed, what they left behind. (I know already that one friend is bringing someone I don't know, allegedly.)

Obituaries

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 19, 2004 — Forrest was gone to the ballet performance and SuRu and I were decorating the house. The phone rang. It was Forrest's mother. She reads the paper pretty assiduously. She wanted to make sure that Forrest saw that a friend of his had died. "He was four years older that Forrest," she said. "He married four years before you all did. Everything was about four years...." she trailed off.

I opened the Metro State section of The Austin American-Statesman and find the obit. I glance at the others but don't look too closely. I leave it open so FFP will see it. Which, when he comes home and I'm not there, he apparently does.

Later in the evening Forrest gets a call. He's sitting down in the bedroom so I've answered it. I listen when he picks up long enough to hear a friend say that she wants Forrest to know that her husband died. Later FFP notices that there was one of those small free notices in the Metro State. He also points out an older acquaintance in the obits.

Reading the obits is not just something Forrest's mother does. A lot of us are looking for people we know. And not surprised when we find one. I also read them out of curiosity...to see if it says why they died (or implies it with a memorial suggestion). To see how old they were.

My dad has a joke that he's telling right now. A man has his 101st birthday. Someone asks him if he thinks he'll make it to 102.

"Yes, I do. I've been reading the obituaries and almost no one dies between 101 and 102!"

Money, Money, Money

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 18, 2004 — Forrest and I got into a discussion of money tonight on the way home. I'm not sure how it got started. But we tried if Michael Dell and Kevin Rollins were really happier than we are. I decided that Michael got a lot of energy out of his business, its decisions, tensions, etc. But that the money itself didn't make him happier. We consider people we know more intimately who are vastly richer. We considered the burden that gigantic homes entail. How health fails and old age comes.

We decided that as nice as it might be to have your own 747 or a charter plane contract or to stay in the best hotels without regard to price, to have anything your heart desires that we enjoyed having enough money. Enough to retire, enough to give a little away. Enough to travel but always considering the price a little. I have most of what I want. And it's nice to want something for a while, to figure out the cheapest way to get what you want and then, finally, get it.

Yes, I think we are in the best place of all. We have enough so it isn't a big worry. But not enough that we have huge responsibilities or enough to be tempted to start grand projects like homes with square feet in the five digit range.

You Are Cordially Invited

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 17, 2004 — So I'm having a party next week. Just a casual, take a breather from Christmas shopping, party. I have probably invited seventy-five people. Or more. I expect forty to fifty people. I had to leave people out. If I invited everyone I knew, friends and acquaintances, I could get probably two hundred people. Even at this busy time of the year when lots of people have family events or go away.

So I had to arbitrarily limit it. I invited only four people from my old company (the ones I had lunch with recently plus one other guy I've been meaning to get together with). I invited three people who used to work at that company. I could have invited probably fifty or sixty people whom I really know pretty well from old work relationships. I didn't invite anyone I know just from the club...people in my water aerobics class or tennis activities. I did invite a couple of people who are club members. We didn't invite some friends and did invite others. There are literally hundreds of people we know through ballet and opera who we didn't invite. We invited only a few of the people we know through our primary human services cause (AIDS Services Austin). We invited a couple of people we know through film and food and music events. Not many. We specifically invited some people we are cultivating for a cause. We invited a couple of neighbors we like.

We invited only a few of the people FFP has written about although we've become friends with a lot of them. (They number close to two hundred now.)

We excluded almost all the people we thought might bring kids, too. Not all, just almost.

In this process we knew that we would exclude people who frequently invite us to things, that we would exclude people we'd love to see and visit with, that we would exclude people who might hear about the party and get upset. We also knew that some people we invited would be leaving town or have holiday conflicts. We counted on this to keep the number down.

There is an art and science to entertaining. Part of the science is inviting enough people to fulfill a lot of social obligation but keep the number in a manageable range. Part of the art is inviting people from different areas of our lives and thereby having an interesting mix of people where folks can meet new people, reconnect with people they haven't seen, make contacts and have interesting conversations.

Watch this space for a report toward the end of the month on how we did.

Why Can't I Get More Done?

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 16, 2004 — I've been trying several tactics to get more done. "Doing a little every day." "Picking up as I go along." "Setting aside time to do stuff." "Making lists and checking them off."

Still my days flee. Instead of cleaning the house or doing my exercise, I'm going to parties. Instead of getting throught the day's newsapers I'm watching mindless TV. Instead of organizing the budget, I'm out spending money.

I think the culprit is the clock. There are just twenty-four hours in a day, no matter how you slice it. It is certainly nice not to have to slice off eight or nine or ten hours for a job, five days a week. But being retired doesn't create an infinity of time. It still takes a hour or more to exercise properly, to get to the gym and do it. It takes time to clean the house, to write, to order one's existence. And sleep and basic needs eat into it.

So I'll just go on thinking why don't I get more done? I have all the time in the world. Unfortunately that time, world around, is limited.

FFP is retiring next year. No, really. He thinks now that "if I was retired I could go to the things in Best Bets in the paper" or "we could just go off on a drive." And, yes, it's sort of true. But once you chose an activity, you aren't doing ten others. You can't do everything.

Plan Comes Together

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 15, 2004 — I had my doubts about the day. There was the matter of taking my dad and his visitors to lunch and then dinner for all of them plus SuRu, FFP, his parents.

FFP gave me the idea to go to the club for lunch. And it worked out OK. I had this reservation for ten at Finn and Porter in the Hilton. I double-checked it at the last minute. It worked out OK, too. Sometimes things do work out. Often against the odds. We drove downtown on the streets (no Mopac!) avoiding the trial of lights traffic. Came back wending around looking at Christmas lights.

I like it when a plan comes together. With a gang of people with his 'need' and that disability, it's a miracle.

I Know How it Will End Up

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 13, 2004 — You decide to learn something, read something. Or develop a new habit to keep the house tidy or save money or be healthier.

And you are relentless for a while. You go for it. You do it every day or whatever. You complete the beginner's class or read the first chapter. You do a little housework every day, implement a healthful or useful habit.

It's gotten to the point that I know, even as I'm exercising for the fifth day in a row, or making the bed first thing for the thirtieth time in a row or making a journal entry for the thirtieth day in a row, I know, that eventually it will have been a temporary enthusiasm. Abandoned before it could be as effective as it might.

Sometimes I just wish that I could believe while the enthusiam is still there and not know clearly that I won't carry it though.

You, Too, Will Be Old

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 14, 2004 — You can wish it away, will against, fight with all your might. But it will happen to you anyway.

You should fight it. "You are as young as you feel." Not really, but you can perform at a level younger than your years if you try to stay active.

My dad is a great example of this. He does things. He had been straightening up the garage. He wrapped the faucets. He got out Christmas decorations. He made coffee for his sisters. He did water aerobics on Monday and is talking about starting some weight training. He drives and, frankly, pretty well, too.

I want to be like my dad. He was almost thirty-two when I was born so he has some years on me. If only I can be like him in 2036, I'll be pretty happy.

Sure, I'm in better shape than my dad and the other folks I spent my day with today. And I don't take a fistful of meds to stay that way. But they've fought the good fight to be healthy and happy. They keep their minds active and their emotions alive.

I Know How it Will End Up

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 13, 2004 — You decide to learn something, read something. Or develop a new habit to keep the house tidy or save money or be healthier.

Sometimes I just wish that I could believe while the enthusiam is still there and not know clearly that I won't carry it though.

If You Build It, They May Not Come

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 12, 2004 — There was a time when I was coy and closed about giving out the location of this site. I didn't drop www.viswoman.com (which redirects here to austinprop.com at the moment) on business cards, haloscan chats. I didn't enroll in www.austin-stories.com. I didn't sign up for Holidaililes. Wouldn't dream of joining portals, rings, 'burbs. Discouraged linking.

One day, retired, I decided that while I wouldn't actually promote it, I wouldn't not promote it. I'd print the site on my retirement 'business' cards. I would sign haloscan chats with it.

And you know what? It's so great...they really didn't come. Happily, there was a curve and it's exploded upward and you'd have to have some amazing content to attract a bunch of pesky visitors. So this really can be a calm little coffee shop with just a couple of tables and a few of you dropping in occasionally to look over my shoulder into the journal. Oh, yes there are a few readers. Even some who don't know me in real life. But I'm not really battling a bunch of input, you know. Pesky comments, unwanted e-mail. It's really true...there is so much out there on the WEB that people can only take time for a small slice of it. It's like sending two hundred holiday cards. You think your mailbox will overflow with trees and angels and snowmen, glitter and greetings and goodwill. That the mailman will scowl at you every day. Doesn't happen. (Well, he scowls but it's because of the load of advertising checking copies, catalogs and credit card offers.)

Yep, happily, you can build it but they don't necessarily come. It takes effort to single out a WEB site, read it, comment via the chat or e-mail. And there is so much out there to read. My advice is stick with the old grey poet or Citizen Rob. Give 'em the business, write comments, send e-mail.

The Diminishing Value

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 11, 2004 — At the time you think you need it. If you have any (fill in the blank: batteries, electrical tape, glue, aluminum foil, baggies, plastic cups, matches, napkins) you can't find them or think the warehouse club's twofer or threefer giant supply is a good idea. Or you think you need some vinegar or canned goods or a bottle of booze. Somehow you don't use it up and then it sits and sits and gathers dust and maybe it deteriorates, maybe not. But you just feel like tossing it and having a clean shelf.

But you don't. Not all of it anyway. Some things do find their way to the trash. Or they are banished to storage or the garage, inching closer to the garbage.

You scrub the shelf, knock a little dust off, wonder who bought it and why. You vow to keep things in better order, not just toss things into the pantry. You vow not to pile things on the floor. But entropy will win again, you know it.

Why the Rush?

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 10, 2004 — I have all this time. But somehow I don't get up early enough, don't leave the house early enough, don't think about errands soon enough. I'm always a little breathless, pushed by duties I can't even remember.

I think I create this tension. To make things exciting. Back when I worked, I couldn't afford to create so much artificial rush and bustle. Had to get up early, start early, be prepared.

Maybe we need a certain amount of adrenaline and we just create it however we can.

It's Harder than you Think

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 9, 2004 — My dad likes to bait his sisters into chiding him by saying, "I never realized how much there was to do around the house." They then say all these things about how they and my mom told him so which he knows they will say.

And he has a maid and a yard man. Still, it's true. I forget how much trouble scrubbing and dusting are. Cooking and cleaning up. (Of course, we cook and clean every day but nothing too elaborate. The more elaborate the more bowls, implements and pans.)

And I forget how much effort the yard is until I get out there and chop bamboo or something.

That's why you should do a few things for yourself in this life. To remember how much trouble they are. When I worked, FFP did most of the grocery shopping. I was shocked at the effort involved when I quit and started doing it myself sometimes. Of course, we cook at home a little more. Not that much, though.

Daily

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 8, 2004 — I made a pact with myself. To update this site every day. To try to chronicle my sad little life and to write an essay. To record my food and alcohol consumption. To note my exercise or lack thereof, my mood and health, my reading and watching. To comment on the material world. I made this commitment even before signing up for Jette's Holidailies Project.

A daily mission is a good way to accomplish something. Work on it everyday. Now, of course, there is some controversy (in my head anyway) about whether this little WEB spot, even updated daily, is an accomplishment.

But surely if I made a daily commitment to something else, good things good happen. I kind of have that deal with myself as to exercise: everyday I'll try to do something physical even if it is playing doubles tennis on slow clay courts.

So, yeah, I need to apply this to other things. I need to commit to doing a cleanup or household chore everyday. I need to commit to working on some of my other writing projects every day. I need to commit to reading the papers every day and not letting them stack up.

Now, the problem is: you just can't do every thing every day. So some things have to put on a different schedule. And that usually becomes the a "I mean to do it some time but don't ever get around to it." So what do I need to do? Set aside an hour a day and make myself do something selected from a certain part of the 'to do' list? Give up junk TV and use the time to do something more productive?

Don't Take it For Granted

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 7, 2004 — Water, hot and cold, fresh and safe at every tap. Don't take it for granted. But we do, don't we?

I pour water in to the dog's bowl that has been purified by the city, delivered to my house, softened and triple osmosis filtered again.

When you don't have water coming out of the taps...to make coffee, bathe, wash up dishes, brush your teeth...and fill the dog's bowl you suddenly realize the miracle that it all is for us in our modern life.

Dealing with Attention Deficit by Giving In

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 6, 2004 — When I was a kid, attention deficit didn't exist. Kids were lazy or less than motivated. Adults, too. Not your fault? I don't think so.

I was puttering around in my office the other day and I realized: I have always dealt with it, assuming I have it, with all these little tricks and most involve giving in.

So when I want to accomplish something I do it it in bits and drips as I can find the motivation until it gets done. Sometimes a task will grab me and suck me into a mode where I just can't give up until I get done. My work in programming was sometimes like that. A problem I was trying to debug would grab me and I would find myself working and working, trying things, puzzling from all angles until it yielded. Tasks where you just have to gut through it, do a lot of routine stuff right and get through it. These were more challenging.

Now it shouldn't matter, right? I'm retired. But, truthfully, I still have things to accomplish. I still need to focus attention. And, yeah, it's still hard to come by.

Forgotten Terrorists

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 5, 2004 — Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols. What about them? They were soldiers (well, Tim was, I know). Support our troops. Unless they kill children. In the U.S. Then you find out that not only does Texas have capital punishment. The good old U.S. of A. does, too. I thought Tim would still be alive except that he stopped appealing but that appears not to be the case. Various appeals were filed. Ah, and who remembers that, allegedly, he was responding to the terror in Waco? Our government killed some kids there or was it their parents' fault? Interesting what President Bush said after the execution, in those sunny months before 9/11.

Did Tim think he'd evinced a reckoning? Did the suicide bombers flying those airliners think so?

And how about the Unabomber? Do you even remember the Unabomber. The sketch of a guy in a hooded shirt, the bombs targeting technologists, the brother who recognized the writing in his manifesto? (Which included such ideas as "We aren't the first to mention that the world today seems to be going crazy. This sort of thing is not normal for human societies. There is good reason to believe that primitive man suffered from less stress and frustration and was better satisfied with his way of life than modern man is.") Heh. He really wanted to bomb us back to the stone age. Like Afghanis claimed we did...only they claimed they were already there.

But for the Internet I would have trouble finding the facts for you about Ted . (The Internet also offers such things as a Unabomber vs. Al Gore quiz but that's another story. Or footnote to history as they say.) But good old Ted blew stuff (mostly people) up from 1978 until he was captured after his brother helped authorities find him and his manual typewriter in Montana. Ted Kaczynski. A forgotten man, losing Supreme Court appeals and plotting suicide with his underwear. (The Internet again...claims he attempted underwear suicide in 1998.)

How many people, right now, associate terror with the Osama Bin Laden type. And even at that...can we forgive Libya for the Lockerbie crash if the price is right?

I'd say it's a good thing, forgetting. Because if we 'never forget' as we are urged to do then feud on feud goes on and on. It's precisely these terrorists who couldn't forget. Who thought they could change the course of things...with a little more violence. It's instructive how little we remember of their causes. Even though old Ted got his manifesto published.

Whoa...and speaking of forgotten. How about the SDS? Students for a Democratic Society? The Weathermen? Bomb the Pentagon? They did it. Old Bill Ayers published a memoir, some of which he might have made up. Publication date? September 11, 2001. Oops. Forgotten again.

Perhaps this is what terrorists really need to understand. We will forget not only their manifesto but their actual terror.

Work and Vacation

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 4, 2004 — So if you don't work, when do you relax? All the time? Of course not.

No, you set goals. Cleaning, errands, charity work, exercise, shopping, learning.

Then, sometimes, you just goof off. You sit in front of the tube, you read, you surf the WEB doing whatever you please (as opposed to learning something new or shopping you just read journals or something).

The problem is that the tension on goals maintains itself all the time and then again all seems like leisure.

This dilemma didn't first occur to me when I retired after thirty-two years of (mostly) having a job. No, it's been with me since college. The division between fun and work, between leisure and the 'have to' is unclear. It either makes work fun or fun seem like work. It's your choice.

The Errand Trap

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 3, 2004 — It takes all these things to sustain modern life. Laundry, shopping for food, cooking, cleaning. Setting up the calendar, planning social events. Decorating for holidays, wrapping gifts. Communicating with friends and family. Making and keeping medical appointments, for self and dog. Keeping all the 'tech' going: computers, phones, etc. Paying bills, doing finances.

Now there are lots of things I don't do because the maid or yard men or bookkeeper or Forrest is there to do them. And I realize that, when I worked, I would do some things in breaks at work (order something on the WEB or run an errand at lunch or make 'to do' notes about personal things when I thought of them). Or run errands on the way to and from work. When I worked, too, we had the maid do more things. She did our laundry, changed the sheets, took out the trash. Forrest and I do these things now.

Still I'm astounded at how much time can be sucked into the vortex of the errands and 'to do' list. These things expand to fill the available time. I have time so I do things in a way that takes longer, I swear. And we eat more at home so I have more cooking and cleaning and trips to the grocery store. And I work out every day and have to do laundry to clean the sweaty clothes. Because I have no income, I spend time recording expenses and studying the family budget.

Does anyone really lead a life of leisure? Even if they have the (admitedly limited) stuff done for them that I do for myself, do they expand their grooming and exercise and social activities to a level that consumes their time? Does anyone just sit and think? The closest I come is forcing myself to write and essay every day.

The Finest Bargain

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 2, 2004 — The best bargain is doing without.

Today I shopped at Costco, one of the big boxes with big boxes of bargains. Literally.

I spent a chunk of change. Getting 'bargains.' Now, granted I saved on things like canned tuna, fresh Salmon, trash bags, Cetrucil and food items that we normally consume at higher prices from the grocery store. And I got some gifts (books, DVD, calendar) at good prices. I was going to buy gifts for FFP and the parents anyway. I got excellent prices on party wine and some good champagne for gifts. And I found a suitcase I think my uncle will like. (Didn't buy it but my aunt had set me a quest to find one that was hardsided with divided halves but with wheels.) I got my dad a new phone and FFP a new razor. Certainly things I was going to have to buy somewhere at some price. And maybe I got a good price on those, it seemed good.

Still I'd be almost $500 richer if I hadn't gone shopping! Yep, the best way to get a bargain is to avoid buying stuff, isn't it? Not really, of course. If you don't have food on hand that you got at a reasonable price then you end up dashing out to get stuff take-out or at a more expensive store.

The Land of No Focus

AUSTIN, Texas, Dec. 1, 2004 — It takes focus and energy to achieve things.

I feel a little lazy, sure, when I'm sitting at my computer or in front of the TV with the DVR drinking coffee. I do a lot of that.

But really I also do things. I surf for info, I write (type?) a lot of pages to post to the WEB, I snap digital pictures and format them for the WEB, I buy people gifts, shop, read, study, think. I exercise, play tennis. I go to live performances and watch all kinds of TV and movies. I read newspapers and magazines. I try to learn about the world. I plan trips. I do chores. I cook. Well, a little. I try to learn about computers and keep all mine up to date and such.

The reason I don't accomplish anything that I can really tout is this: I'm interested in too many things. If I focused the energy a little bit, neglected other things, then I could have something to show for my days and weeks and months and now over two years of retirement.

But I can't think about this right now: I have a date to hit tennis balls with some old women. Not that it will improve my game or get me fit. It will just be fun and I will get to hear what they are thinking. Then I'll flit to some other project.

I need to learn to flit to fit. To harness my attention deficit and wide-ranging interests into real accomplishments.