Texas Christmas

As we muddle through the holiday season here in Central Texas, usually without snow, having a few bitterly cold days, some just right and some, let's face it, too warm, one sees people resort to odd decorations like putting Christmas balls on the sharp spines of the agave (aka century plant).

I'm not much for decorating and this year I will not have a tree or tinsel. No wreathes (hallway decorations not allowed in our building) or centerpieces. I will put some holiday cards we receive out on a shelf so I can enjoy them for a while. I won't be digging in the storage cage downstairs for bendable posable Christmas figures to strew around the apartment. (Yes, when I *do* decorate, it's unconventional at best.)

What I will do, however, is co-op others' efforts to be seasonably festive. I'll go to the hotels around here and snap pictures of their trees and other decor. Ditto the efforts in my condo building. I think there's a tree up on the 9th floor. I'll pose FFP in front of giant presents or Christmas characters. Maybe catch some clever shop windows with the camera. (We usually go to NYC to see those magnificent displays but not this year.) Restaurant decorated? Grab a picture. Someone made a real effort on their yard this year and we happen by on one of our rambles? Grab some pictures for this blog or our daily photo effort.

I consider this tactic making the best use of the efforts of others. One of these years I'll throw a little cocktail party like I used to do when we lived in the house and I will decorate. I may even have to clean the house for that. Not this year though. All the festive stuff you'll see here is either someone else's work or from the annals of time. But I will try to have somewhat festive pictures to dress up for Holidailies.

Reflecting...Organized

I've been feeling like updating this blog, but have been at a loss about structure. Don't know if I'll keep it up, but today's structure is (1) one of my reflection pictures; (2) a memory from a random year; (3) a reminiscence inspired by a random object I own or have owned; and (4) something I did in the last few days.

The Picture
I took this at the end of last month at a car show at my club. I'd finished playing tennis. That's me in shorts, with hat and my tennis bag reflected  in a bright red car finish along with a vintage aqua Chevy, I'm not a car person but I love all the beautiful reflective surfaces of paint and chrome.

The Year
I used this random number generator to generate a year of my lifetime. It came up with the year 2000.

Wow. Y2K.I remember being on call for customers of my software firm on New Year's day  in case of problems after corrections for the assumption that years were two digits!

I remember buying a house for my parents in Austin and, in May and June, their move down here from Mesquite (near Dallas) where they'd lived for 34 years. They stayed with us for six weeks while their stuff sat in the garage of the new house and we waited for the seller to move into new digs.

Then, in the fall, I had a gaggle of business trips. Las Vegas, Australia, Europe, Wisconsin. In the snow. I remember the fall being so busy with trips all over. But I don't remember too many details. I went to Paris after my Europe duties for fun. I remember doing a few touristy things in Sydney. And drinking lots of Shiraz. And looking down at the tennis courts in Melbourne from an appointment high in an office building. I remember a restaurant in Las Vegas where I went with two work mates. I took a call from my mother there on my cell. My cousin had died of breast cancer. I missed her funeral due to the travel.

The Object
A manual calendar. This is a little wooden advertising specialty.  It belonged to my mother. I don't know where she got it or when but in 2000 (that year again) she moved it to Austin. It is made up of the frame, two cubes with numbers and six wooden slats with months front and back. You can assemble it to be today's date. I remember it in the move because some of the parts were initially misplaced. She found this upsetting. Two young girls I'd hired to help her unpack eventually found them. Inside a sugar bowl, I think. When my dad died I put the pieces in a baggy and brought it home. Not right away, of course, but as I slowly disposed of everything in the house it ended up here. (My mom had died eight years before.) I couldn't bring myself to toss it in with the thrift store donations (of which there were many). I occasionally move the pieces around, but not often. Only recently did I find it in a cabinet and put it on the shelf with books and pictures and artifacts. It reminds me of time passing and the meaningless of things.

The Last Few Days
We've been 'coming down' from a trip with friends to New Orleans, replete with eating and drinking and doing road trip things. I've been trying to get myself to catch up on chores with house cleaning and such. I did get through catching up on bills and budgets. I approved my tax return for the CPA to efile and I wrote checks to the IRS.

Saturday (the 12th) we walked to UT's Bates Recital Hall and saw the UT jazz orchestra with guest Joshua Redman. He was amazing. I'm so glad we went. (We chose it over several other social events.) There's nothing FFP and I enjoy more than a jazz concert. I have six of his albums in my iTunes (ripped from our CD collection.) I should listen to him some more.

A Portrait of Myself

The Visible Woman...reflects.

Self portraits are odd things. Many artists (not that I consider myself one) have explored the image of themselves. I'm intrigued by what the kids call 'selfies.' I have been doing them for a long time, long before phone cameras made them so popular with kids. Before I had a digital camera even.

I also love collage and, at some point, I became intrigued with the collage-like look of shop window reflections especially with interesting shapes outside the window and interesting goods. Sometimes the windows contained mirrors or other reflective objects and this amplified the effect. I soon noticed the fun of having me, FFP or strangers reflected there, too. Sometimes it's the mere outline of my head that shows up, other times more of my features. Always something is a little obscure. Like life itself, oneself is an elusive concept, visually or in the abstract.

Change is Constant

A New Reflective Sculpture has appeared on Colorado Street.

The Visible Woman...walks.

There is no better way to see things than to walk. It's a pace that encompasses a slowly changing perspective so that you truly see things from several angles.  As people slowly approach or pass you, there is time to consider what a stranger's story might be or whether, oh yes, you know them from somewhere. (Three times in the last two days someone has flung open there car window to interact with us on the street because they knew us. In one case, a woman pulled over and got out of her car!) You can consider the minutia on the sidewalk that drivers never see: coins; fast food wrappers; beer, water and soda bottles; fallen leaves and seeds; and the occasional abandoned shoes.

When Forrest was feeling poorly on Monday, I walked around a bit by myself. With our trip to NYC earlier in the month and a busy schedule since we returned we haven't come close to getting to all the corners of our walkable world. The polished sculpture above appeared out of the sidewalk on Colorado Street. Must be part of the agonizingly slow project to create 'great streets' in Austin which mostly involves widening and enhancing the sidewalks. 

Racks for the bike share program have also appeared although the program doesn't start for a few days. No bikes yet. I fear it will mean more bikes on sidewalks. I have already had a close encounter with a bike share bike...on my recent trip to New York.  It was at least in a crosswalk, though, and not on the sidewalk. 

Must get around and walk some more and see things change. The many cranes are cranking out more and more stories of hotels, apartments, office buildings and condos. The changes in the last six plus years since our condo started rising are astounding. And on foot is the best way to see it all.

Where's this Conversation Going?

The photo was taken in July. Shorts weather. Blackmail shop window, I think on South Congress. But that's not where I'm going today.

I had brunch with four girlfriends.

The conversation began while we were waiting for our table. I said to one friend: "Is that a new muffler?" She had a pretty scarf on, but she asserted that she'd had it a long time. She said, "You know you have stuff and sometimes you don't take it out of the box...."

I mentioned that I had a muffler I bought in Germany in 1972. It always amazed me that I'd never lost it. Then I said that I still had a lap blanket I bought on that trip...a souvenir from the already over Olympics in Munich. Another friend said I should find out if it was worth anything. This segued into researching values on eBay and the Internet and how "Antiques Roadshow" folks seemed so naive about what they had.

One friend told the story of a friend's family who found, after the patriarch died, a book by Winston Churchill that was signed. Which transported her to other stories about that family including a show at the Paramount where they had front row seats. Which led me to say I preferred row T there. And caused her to say what her niece, the opera singer, said about the best seats in a hall. Which led another friend to say that she had seen a performance of a choir in Paris that she knew said niece had sometimes performed with. And she was surprised that she was, indeed, there. Which led to a description of poor accommodations on that trip. A room that smelled of smoke. And a discussion of smoking regulation and anecdotes about same.

And we hadn't even sat down. Sitting down we covered more ground. Banks, online banking, driving on ice and snow, finding old letters.

Outside, as we were leaving, we recounted all the houses and apartments one gal has lived in, all in the Austin area. None of us, not even she, could quickly summarize.

And so it goes. A conversational flow.

This is the penultimate day of Holidailies. It's been fun, I suppose but I think I will welcome 2013 with a little more silence online. Or not. At least I met this simple challenge: type something here every day. And the conversation sort of flowed at times....

Less is More

Now comes that time of the year, that last few days on the calendar, when people start to say "Well, that's over. Next year will be better."

And they start wrapping things up. Lists of best books, movies, moments, achievements, news stories, the departed.

And they start making resolutions.

Oh, I've done it.

But this year I have resolved that, if I resolve for 2013 at all, I'd make one and only one declaration. And one terse enough to tweet.

I've had lots of ideas.

• Try to say no more than is absolutely necessary for communication and conversation.

• Give yourself a break. Every single day.

• Write down what you eat, drink and do so you can figure out what works. But assume most things are coincidence.

• Embrace complexity.

• Learn one thing every day.

I've made long boring lists before. I've even made myself assess progress against them. But I just can't do it. Maybe I'll revisit those old efforts in the waning days of this Holidailies exercise. Just to fill the space and convince myself of past futility. Because, after all, I did resolve to write something for every day of this December. But a brief foray into that old stuff would "bore me terrifically" I'm afraid.

[Note on the picture: One more self-portrait as a vague shadow. There's a theme there somewhere. Taken at one of the household shops on North Lamar.]

Christmas Morning, Enjoying the Time

When I was a kid, we'd bound up on Christmas morning and see what Santa left (these gifts were never wrapped) and see if there was anything in our stocking cooler than fruit and nuts. Then we'd play with our toys and maybe go to our grandmother's for the meal and 'the tree' (where you unwrapped gifts that weren't from Santa but from your family but could sometimes, if you were very lucky, include something besides clothes). We often had a lot of time to wait for the 'tree' because we'd wait for Dad to be there and he often took a shift at the V.A. hospital where he was an attendant. Extra pay on holidays. Or he'd be doing some farm chore that didn't respect the holiday. Finally we'd rip into the gifts, sometimes all at once, sometimes having everyone wait patiently while we unwrapped in order, usually youngest to oldest. Sometimes the opposite, though. Often the little kids would pass the packages around making a pile for each person.

When all was said and done, you'd have a bunch of presents. You'd have a trash can full of ripped paper, ribbon and tape. (Or some relative would be trying to preserve it for recycling.) You'd have eaten the traditional meal. My favorites were homemade rolls, homemade dressing and giblet gravy and homemade cinnamon rolls, maybe some cherry pie. Turkey was an after thought to me. I just had a little piece to enable some more gravy. We might be enlisted to set the table, to clear it, to help wash and dry dishes. Finally we'd get some time with our presents. You might start to read a book, enlist someone to play your new game or assemble or play with your new toy. Usually something would break or disappoint in some way by day's end. You might even end up getting out some old favorite thing (Monopoly or a toy you were really too old for) and engaging with it.

There was a not real pleasant denouement until you settled in with your new stuff and then you spent the rest of your vacation just glad not to be in school.

Today we got up at our usual time (some time between 7 and 8 although FFP usually rises early to take some pills and then returns to bed).

We exchanged gifts yesterday morning so there were no gifts. FFP had his usual oatmeal breakfast. I don't do breakfast but had several cups of coffee. We ate out the last couple of days and when I got hungry I reheated leftovers brought home from restaurants and had that. So did FFP.

I worked the NY Times crossword and Ken-Ken. Easy today because it's Tuesday and I always enjoy the ones I can do. A bit of a Christmas present by Christmas being a Tuesday. Crossword theme was 'Secret Santa' with that in circled cells strewn through longer clues.

We watched some episodes from the first season of the "Sopranos." (Not a very merry activity! But enlightening.) We got the disks at a going out of business sale for a music and video store (Cheapo Discs) yesterday.

I read some of the Arts section of my NY Times. I made a call to Colorado, timed to be able to talk to all of the relatives gathering for a second Christmas gift exchange. The chaos on the line reminded me of those Christmases of old as described above.

But I enjoy Christmas this way. Time to read the paper, work puzzles, play a game of Scrabble against myself on the iPhone and to write a blog entry. Maybe before we go out to a late afternoon rendezvous I'll have a nap. This peaceful gift of time is a wonderful thing. I have plenty of toys and books. Just need to take time to enjoy them.

Booked Solid, Dressed Comfortably

I don't have a little black dress. (The picture is a detail from the Blackmail shop window shown yesterday and that is a reflection of me with a short-sleeved polo less than a week ago, jacket tied around my waist.)

It's colder today, in the mid-forties. I'm played tennis. With old sweats and a Polartec jacket over my shorts and polo. Then I have a late lunch/walk/talk with a friend. (We do it about once a month.) We usually dress casually regardless of the lunch spot because we usually walk a bit, too. So jeans, jacket, hiking boots today.

Later FFP and I will walk over to see the enormous light display at Zilker Park. It's called the "Trail of Lights." We used to call it the "Trial of Lights" for the traffic it caused. But a guy who used to work for us and whom we love dearly worked on it and so we are more benevolent about it. So we will walk over there and see that. And then we'll walk to a restaurant and meet a friend for wine and dinner. I'll probably go with black jeans, a sweater, a blazer and hiking boots. Because we'll walk four miles at least to do all that. The restaurant is nice, but casual. Wink on Lamar.

Tomorrow (which some are touting as EOW) we have a party in the middle of the day at a downtown private club we belong to. That will require a nice pair of slacks and jacket and maybe some jewelry and dress shoes. But the place is less than a mile away and all my shoes are flats or loafers. In the evening we are driving to a bad Christmas sweater and karaoke party. I don't have a bad sweater but I have some silly Christmas pins I'll wear on my decades-old red blazer. I don't sing. FFP might. He will not drink. Because he's driving. The noon party has free Bloody Marys. I usually make an exception to my no drinking before five for this occasion. I don't know, though, I might not drink at the evening party.

But I digress from dress to drinking.

Saturday brings a party. I could walk there but the streets around there are dark and scary (for falling more than anything). FFP will drop me off. I'll wear a read sweater or blazer. Black slacks probably. FFP will do some duty at Ballet Austin's "Nutcracker" and return to the party.

Sunday we will loll around in sweats or take a walk in jeans. In the afternoon we will catch a musical act at the Armadillo and eat at a casual place nearby. Jeans, hiking boots, sweater?

Monday is Christmas Eve. We'll probably walk and then go to Ruth's Chris Steakhouse in the evening for dinner with four friends. I will dress up as in: nice slacks, nice blouse, jacket, dress shoes. Sweater or muffler if it's cold. Less than a mile to Ruth's Chris. We will walk.

Christmas Day will be lazy. Football? Walk. We will meet friends at a 24 hour diner (called 24) at 4PM for a Christmas dinner. Casual, I think. Black jeans, sweater.

Yep...I'm booked solid. But I haven't had a need for a little black dress. Oh we did our version of black tie last Saturday. I wore tuxedo pants, some great Cole Haan tuxedo flats and a top and jacket with a bit of sparkle bough at a Chico's sale.

And so it will go. Another holiday without a little black dress.

Exploring the Neighborhood

The wonderful Gail Chovan, designer and owner of the South Congress shop called Blackmail, does some fabulous windows. This Christmas it has a black tree and across the panes it says 'I see a green tree and I want it painted black...

I love shooting interesting shop windows reflecting the street scene and, of course, us in our walking garb.

One of the joys of walking SoCo are the wonderful shop windows and the variety of people there. You not only get a little validation for your odd feeling about the holiday from Blackmail's window but you can ponder who might like to receive a silver head for Christmas as you check the windows at Tesoros Trading.

And you can go inside Uncommon Objects and imagine who'd rather have a hand or two.

Yep it's definitely weird shopping. You can find some great stuff, though. I love going through the old postcards and photos and seeing toys I had as a kid fetching big prices at Uncommon Objects. (They say not to take pictures, but I do anyway. So sue me.)

I have this idea that I will carefully explore all the places within two miles of our house. That I'll explore the shops and restaurants and hotels and sidewalks and shortcuts and construction. That I'll visit the museums when they have new shows and catch performances at the theaters. And note the interesting houses and yards and yard art. There is too much to really keep up with, of course, within two miles of my house. Within walking distance. That amazes me.

Star of My Story

When I shot this (locals may recognize this as the door on Seventh Street into the Driskill Bar) I had the idea of doing a series of (lone) stars for my Austin, Texas Daily Photo blog. But I decided to use it today here.

I've been thinking as I struggle against (pick one or more) a cold, allergies, bronchitis, or some nameless illness that we are all our own little experimental labs with a (statistically insignificant) sample of one. I've tried  various OTC drugs to treat the obviously non-life-threatening symptoms. (Runny nose, congestion, cough, head ache, no fever.) To get a ground zero I've also tried going without any medicine for hours or days. (Except some herbal tea.)

Life is like that, isn't it? We do something then assess how we feel. Carries over to spending money. We think some object or trip or experience will make us happy. We buy something, go somewhere, do something. Then maybe we stop and say, "Whoa. I'm never doing that again!" Or: "All right. Let's do that over and over!"

There's no real substitute for this trial and error thing. You are unique and your mileage will always vary. It doesn't help for parents or friends or mentors to tell us that something will or won't work for us. Nothing works like trying it. You have to personally buy a house or get a pet or try to drink gin or quit your job and travel. The lucky among us get to try enough things by the time we are my age to be pretty safe in picking what will make us happy. Of course, it's still hard to figure what is going to cure this crud in our unique systems.

Many Mes

If you click on the kaleidoscopic image above and make it bigger you will see that there are many LBs surrounded by NY City cabs. This was part of a complicated display in the Saks Fifth Avenue window that had a mannequin with a panning camera, a  bunch of mirros and an old-fashioned looking TV screen constantly showing a changing image. When the camera panned by you it put a bunch of pieces of you on the screen.

I often feel like there are many LBs, many sides of me. There's the lazy one who has been fighting some weird cough and stuffy head since returning from NYC and is sitting here, after 11 A.M. in her bathrobe, drinking coffee. I've had no shower or breakfast, but I have watched CBS Sunday Morning, updated my other blog and tackled the puzzles in the NY Times magazine with mixed success. There's the dynamic one who will suddenly and inexplicably accomplish great feats in a single day. 

There's the shy me that's happy to stay home while FFP visits with a Bush daughter who is playing the Mother Ginger role at Ballet Austin today. (He is the board member who has 'wrangled' celebrities to play this role in the ballet's production for years. Made up as a buxom woman, the victim, er celebrity, is rolled out atop a giant skirt and children dancing as candy bon-bons emerge.) FFP has done the role himself. And he loved it.

There's the aggressive LB willing to yell at drivers who ignore pedestrians without regard for whether they might be armed.

There's the LB who figures she can conquer anything. That she won't be felled by any illness but will 'feel better in a few hours, and, if not, tomorrow for sure.' There's the LB who feels like she's sinking into old age when her skin bruises too easily or she gets up from bed or a chair and can't walk properly for a few steps. Then there's the LB who thinks she can sprint across the tennis court and chase down every ball even when she can't and the last point proved it.

There's the LB who thinks she can solve any problem. And the one who finds some tax forms and investment reports impossible to decipher in her remaining years.

There's the me who makes fun of typos in publications. And the one who has homophones like 'here' for 'hear' or 'there' for 'their' somehow flow from finger to keyboard.

Of course, there is the LB who is generous with charities and friends and is a big tipper and will buy an expensive bottle of wine in a restaurant. And the one who worries over every charge on the credit card and makes cash flow analyses to be sure that taxes, insurance and large obligations will have ready cash and that she can pay those credit cards on time, early even. There is the LB who is wildly liberal vis-a-vis human rights and the one that isn't so sure that the 'rich' can really provide enough tax revenue to run the country. There is the LB who considers herself rich beyond her wildest dreams and the LB who not only remembers being poor but feels poor around certain acquaintances.

There's the LB who wants to write stuff here and bare her conflicted soul. And the one who thinks, "Really? Whose business is this?"

There is the LB who thinks holiday cards are silly. And the one who is about to hand address some with personal notes inside and who is excited to get every one in the mail. (Well, maybe not the ones from brokers, real estate agents and other businesses.)

My job in life is to manage the many mes and to not let them trip over each other too much. I'm not real sure how I've done in that regard.

The Packing List Revelations

I'm getting ready to go on another trip. Not counting staycations (I think we did one of those, traveling about two miles and staying in a hotel for two nights) I have been on five trips this year and I'm heading out for another this week. Los Angeles, New Orleans (with a stop in Houston), Manhattan, the North Shore above Boston plus the Hamptons, Denver suburbs to visit family and now, this week, Portland, OR and environs. When I retired I thought it would be wonderful to travel without worrying about work. (In 2000, I went to Geneva, several places in Australia and Las Vegas for work in a short space of time. Probably made several other trips that year.)

I'm eager for this getaway to Oregon, a regular trip for us in August and one I look forward to all year long.

But another part of me is tired of pulling out the packing list and checking things off and organizing it all. Again.

The packing list.
At some point before that busy working 2000 year I decided to make a master packing list as a WORD document. The idea was that I'd copy it for each trip, edit it to eliminate things I wouldn't need for a trip, add special items and then check things off as I packed. As my life and the world evolved, of course, some things were added to or eliminated from the master list. The master list no longer calls out a PDA and spare stylus but does introduce the possibility of taking along a laptop, an iPod, an IPad and and iPhone or other cell. I've dropped off pantyhose and feminine sanitary supplies from the list. I no longer take a spare watch because, after all, doesn't every gadget tell time?

A few things are still on the list but get eliminated from the list almost every time: formal wear, robe (if the hotel doesn't have one, too bad), hair dryer (I try not to use one now and hotels usually have them). I almost never take our iPod either but sometimes it's a good thing to do.

A Downsizing Every Time
Most of us have too much stuff. But packing, particularly for a trip involving airlines, will focus one on what is really needed. If you can live on what's in that suitcase for a week or ten days, what do you really need?  I always sort of test myself out on whether I actually use everything I take. Of course, one gets a pass on emergency supplies. I always hope I don't need bandaids, Advil, stomach remedies, my tiny umbrella, spare credit cards and photo ID (kept separately from wallet), cough drops, stuff like that. But it's good to get home with almost all your under things and other clothing having been worn. If you took a book, you ought to have read it. My current dodge is to have reading material on the iPad and then to read one of the books FFP takes along. We always, always seem to visit a bookstore. And buy something. We buy papers along the way. We are never without something to read. But at home, of course, it's much worse with unread books, papers and magazines always threatening to topple from every surface.

If you have to carry it, you'll have less!

Always Take the Time-Tested
It's OK to take something new on a trip, I guess. (I'm bought a new carryon for this trip. And, yes, my packing list lists all the possible 'containers' that I might take.) But for clothes and shoes I like to take things I've comfortably worn at home. Walking shoes need to have at least fifty miles on them, preferably with some five mile stretches. Dress shoes need to have gone a few miles, too.

Money, Ticket, ID, Prescriptions
I don't take prescriptions. FFP does. The theory is that if you have money (and credit cards), your ID, tickets and prescription drugs that you can buy anything else. It's a reasonable theory, but FFP can't buy some things off the rack and it is tough for me to find clothes. Short sleeve shirts, polos, underwear, maybe shoes (but see above) could be replaced.

These days you'd be kind of lost without your smart phone. Or an iPad or something. Or both. But still, there are essentials and there are other things. We go on the plane wearing sturdy walkers, a decent shirt, nice jeans and a black blazer. Dress shoes are in the carryon (although FFP has come up with sturdy walkers that  also pass muster as dress shoes). I usually pack my dress shoes, a few under things and socks, a change of pants and shirt, prescription drugs, electronics and chargers, emergency stuff and tiny light umbrellas and lightweight anoraks in carry ons. We check one bag with more clothing, toiletries with liquids and sharps and such. I close the main compartment with a cable tie, cut off the end and place my trusty Swiss Army knife in the front pocket. If the inspectors (or thieves) open it, I'll know (unless they very carefully duplicate my cable tie color and trim). And if they steal the knife, I'll buy another. But I always have scissors, openers, etc. if my checked bag arrives.

Will You Remember What You Wore?
If the shoes hurt or you were cold or too warm, you might remember. If someone takes a photo of you, you might remember. I guess if you felt really out of place, then it might stick with you. But mostly if you were pretty comfortable, it's not what you remember about a trip. If someone takes a picture of me on a trip, I'm likely to be wearing...a black blazer!

A Trip to Regret
I am almost burned out from the traveling this year. The security lines, airline snafus, packing. But I have been trying for weeks to think of a trip I really regretted taking. Oh, there have been times I didn't mind leaving a place...to get home or go somewhere else. But later I never remember wishing I hadn't been there. I always saw something new, learned something new (sometimes about packing) or met some interesting person. So I'll keep on printing my list, packing and going.

Do What You Please

One of the great things about retirement is just getting up on a Friday and doing whatever you please. Of course, you are influenced by a lot of things: what needs doing, how you are feeling, what the weather is like and what those around you are doing. I might have taken a walk with himself but he decided that he really must finish a piece of writing. It is giving him trouble and he has been displacing by doing things like taking the recycling out and retrieving dry cleaning delivered to the front desk and sorting and starting the laundry. So I pitched in on the folding and such.

I had a little project going where I was repairing some bad labels in this blog and, while I was bringing up those entries, editing them and rereading them and selecting some of the pictures for a Pinterest board because I just got on that (I guess it's a social) network. I let myself finish that project. I felt like blogging in this space, but I told myself I wouldn't do that until I had checked up on all the financial accounts, made sure all the bills made sense and everything balanced. So, yeah, I did that and it's almost lunch time! (I was up before 8AM, I swear.)

So I'm letting myself write something here. But I'm thinking that what would really please me now is....lunch. I need to clean out the frig. Maybe if I eat up some leftovers that will be easier, huh?

I also wouldn't mind some exercise and, really, I might find the time to do some more housekeeping or plan a trip.

When I worked, the time to do whatever pleased me was very limited. When there are vast amounts of it, even when, of course, there are things that need attending to, sometimes it's really hard to choose. But, now, I think I'll find some lunch and read the papers while I eat it. Then, well, we'll see.

[Today's reflection is compliments of Tesoros Trading and a tree.]

In My Head

[Thanks to Off the Wall, a cool SoCo shop for this reflection shot.]

I find things to worry about. From the ridiculous to the sublime. What is happening here? What just happened there? What if this happens? Or that? When will I die? What if I run out of money? What if the world ends, more or less?

Meanwhile though I sometimes find a way to enjoy reading (and typing if not writing). I whack a tennis ball for a winner and am thrilled. I take a walk, looking at houses and lawns, dogs and other walkers as well as litter and blades of grass. I think: it's great to be alive, observing this moving this way. And really: who cares what's next.

Still...I'm going to get that air bag recall in my car looked at this week, I swear.

Who Are You Again? And I?

[Photo at a Shop called Howl on South Lamar.]

When you reach the ripe old age of (insert mumbling dissembling here) you have met a lot of people. They have crossed your path in classes, at work, at play, at events, in your neighborhood, at clubs and bars. Some are family or close enough. Some are family of friends or people you met on trips or through random connections (e.g. social media). They are friends of friends or people you met a degree or two or more away from the initial friend.

If you are like me, you keep up with this crew in various ways. In your head, of course, in that compartment labeled 'people I know.' This mental database contains a lot of people who might actually know you and also the 'famous' (locally or otherwise) who have little chance of recalling who you might be. This jumbled mess is the reason that when I'm trying to remember a friend whose first name is, say, Robert, that a chef's last name or a movie star's might appear in what is my slow-moving train of thought.

My husband has two large Rolodex wheels crammed full of cards, many with business cards attached, others scribbled on. Many times he retrieves precious info from this gadget. Of course, I'm betting there are names and info for people he has completely forgotten, too.

My major contact list is in the form of a computer data base. Currently in a Microsoft Access file, it's been in at least two other computer data base forms (one was, I believe, managed by a data base program called, strangely, Paradox). This data base has been converted, updated and columns added over a long and tangled life. When I first designed the columns...I didn't include 'email' as a heading but resorted to typing them into 'comments' for a long while and I've never added a cell phone column, just putting the cell phone into comments when people had both and now, of course, just putting cell phone into the phone column now that many don't have a land line. When arranging big events, I added columns for 'adult count' and 'kid count' and 'hotel/air.' I added some columns along the way to aid selection for mail/merge like 'XMAS' and 'TEMP.' The thing is a hot mess but a very important data base to me and because I'm too lazy to convert it again, I've had to buy new versions of Access (or Office Professional) along the way.

Of course I have contact information collected in phones and e-mail programs, too. I had the same cell phone for a decade from Sprint. I once typed all the contacts in it into a word document. I saved this in an Evernote (a program that allows you to have notes to yourself in browsers and on gadgets). The iPhone conveniently offers to call the things that look like phone numbers. Gradually some of these are added to my iPhone contact list which is, however, pretty short because really who phones people any longer? And I'm not really into texting either.

Then there are people (and groups) that I 'follow' or have listed as 'friends' or 'professional contacts' or have placed in 'circles' on social media.

There is overlap in all these databases from the mental to the modern social media. I also confess to having found a few printed phone lists the other day from jobs I had which I've never thrown away because they help me remember who these co-workers actually were. Or their names anyway.

There are people in that mental data base who've never made it to any real contact list and who aren't on social media (or not connected with me there). I might say 'hi' to these folks, I might have even had dinner with them, worked closely with them on something or sat through meetings for some charity. But I couldn't come up with an address or phone number on a bet. (Although phone books and Internet searches might do it. And private clubs we belong to have directories.)

I added three columns to the computer data base the other day. One to try to summarize how I came to know the person at first point of contact and one to rate the likelihood of ever communicating with them again. Then a third to describe what the current relationship is. There were a number of people in there who, honestly, I don't have any idea who they are. I should have put a comment in when I added them. I know that a few were friends of my dad's mostly and that I added them to this database to invite people to his 90th birthday party a few years ago. I should probably just delete the names but couldn't bring myself to do it. Some I knew pretty well myself through him and I've had to weed out the ones who died. Every year during holidays or while selecting names for a party list, I delete the dead people. Sometimes you just wipe out the line. Sometimes you have to remove the name of one half of a couple. Just a few days ago I had word that someone died. I found that I didn't have a snail mail address for a sympathy card. This couple had moved around and even though I'd been to an event at one house they had I had zero points of contact in my head or elsewhere. Only the dead person in the couple was on social media. There has been lots of press about what happens to people's social media feeds when they die. I don't really find it morbid or weird or anything myself. What's the difference between that and a hand-written Christmas card list? We got a Christmas card in my in-laws mail for both of them during the holidays. He died in January and she died in November. Someone didn't get the word. Anyway, we found the address for our sympathy card (where this digression started) by e-mailing a friend who we knew was close to the surviving partner.

That's one reason I like being on people's Christmas card lists: you keep up with their addresses. When I receive holiday cards, thank-you notes or invitations, I always pull up my data base and double check the address, spelling of names, zip codes etc.

But...life goes on. People enter and exit. And they don't always exit by dying. Sometimes we just never see them again. Sometimes that's how we'd wish it, sometimes not. You just sort of never know, especially about casual friends and acquaintances.

I began this digression several weeks ago. Since then a friend who lived here in the high rise died. The enormous number of connections he had and we had with him came into sharp relief. And there's his record in my database, his number on my phone. Eliminating them is too fraught today. Another time. And when I attend a memorial for him that's coming up I'll look around and realize how his connections overlap with mine in unexpected ways and also wonder more than once "what's that person's name?" and "are they in my database?"

When I started writing this it wasn't about death. And really, it's still not. But as with everything else, death has a way of sneaking into every conversation and changing all the parameters.

Travel Looms

As soon as we get a piece of info about scheduling some medical tests we are going to assume that we can book some trips. Getaways. Fun. See new things. Revisit places we love. "New York and Portland [OR] are givens," said himself who is now a partner in pretty much all my travels.We'd considered taking a cruise some time, too. We'd even casually talked about doing one with another retired couple. We knew someone who was on the Costa Concordia (he and his companion got off unhurt). Gives you pause. I am a big believer in travel insurance and giving yourself a lot of options (taking spare glasses and your prescription; putting money, passports, credit cards in different places and one on your person if possible). But I don't think sinking ships or news of natural disasters or terrorists will keep us from traveling. We won't be going to the world's more dangerous places, of course.

We have even started blocking out some times and refusing to make plans for local events during those times.

I've always been a big fan of travel myself. When I traveled for business, I almost always found some time to do some sightseeing. When himself still worked his small business and wouldn't be gone for too long, we'd do long weekends and I'd go for longer trips with friends or meeting up with them and more or less going on my own. When I was a mere twenty-four years old I quit a perfectly good job and went to Europe armed with a Eurail Pass and a desire to see places that seemed impossibly far away during my impecunious childhood and college years. I've never regretted it.

So Bon Voyage to me. Multiple good trips. I hope. And even if something bad happens...well, if you don't survive...what a way to go. And if you do...what a story.

Is there a Draft? Do I Measure Up?

I can't seem to post here. There are a half dozen or more drafts sitting around unposted. They include pictures, edited and re-edited thoughts, tags. But I do not hit publish.

I tweet. Which is all I can do, it seems with my head full of my reaction to current allergens in Central Texas. (The pollen of the mountain juniper aka 'cedar' and mold.)

Maybe I'll edit some of that junk and publish it. Or maybe I'll just keep tweeting and having the tweets fire off to facebook. It's come to that.

I do like this picture, though. Good old Uncommon Objects.

Where To Begin

After a long pause, I finally got around to writing a blog entry on Monday, November 14. I felt a bit adrift then. We were planning a little celebration (of our first date) with some friends. We had a trip to New York scheduled. (Which we took December 5-12. The above picture is our multiple reflections in one of the Bloomingdale Christmas windows.) I couldn't decide what, if anything to do about Christmas and the holidays. Whether to send cards, buy presents for anyone.

On November 16 my mother-in-law died. (The events of that day are somewhat interesting. See Forrest's description here.) That capped off a year and a half during which Forrest had a cancer scare and two surgeries; my dad died; his dad died; I disposed of my Dad's estate; he handled his dad's; and his mother died, leaving us parent-less. Then we begin disposing of his mother's estate.

There were three services, burials and such to arrange during what seemed like such a short time. There were fiduciary duties. There were (mercifully short) trips to MD Anderson, times in hospitals here. Three ambulance rides at the end for parents. Through it all we were very 'lucky.' Lucky FFP's cancer has apparently not spread. Lucky our parents didn't suffer too long. (My mother died in 2002 and, sadly, she did suffer a lot longer than I would have liked. My dad, of course, had his share of problems in the last few years.). But still. We were lucky. We had the money to handle things, for me to retire and take care of things for Dad after mother died. For Forrest to retire. We had time to see my dad through some trouble, to look after some things for his parents. We have the money now to not worry about money but just do what needs to be done with houses and stuff and all that.

Lucky or not, things are different. I realized after my dad died that I'd stayed young (in my own mind) and exuded confidence that I could take care of things trying to help him through his old age. Forrest did most of the things for his mom but her presence made me feel younger. Because she needed us, didn't she? Because we were young and strong and capable, right?

Now we can arrange to travel and not worry about what parental difficulties may arise at home. But, of course, we may find ourselves in difficulties. Can't really escape that.

We have kind of sleep-walked through the last six weeks. We went on with our schedule after a few days of handling my mother-in-law's services. We cleaned the valuables and mementos out of the house. We drifted through Christmas. I finally printed a few cards and sent them post-Christmas. We had a fancy dinner with friends on Christmas Eve and we were invited to a family gathering with someone else's family for Christmas Day. I didn't buy any presents except hostess gifts. FFP and I bought whatever we wanted and I sent money to my nieces and sister.

Now I wake up and it is 2012 and I'm vacillating between wanting to make some changes (blog, write my novel, exercise more, socialize with people, travel here, travel there, get rid of stuff, get new stuff) and wanting to roll down the shutters and be a recluse, changing as little as possible and buying nothing.

Where will I go with it? Will the blog record the journey or will I go back inside my head? Too early to tell. Going through old blog entries for the links in this entry make me realize that sometimes it does help just to write it down.

That Hair, Attention Deficit and Whatever

My head has been stuffed lately. With ideas. About 'doing work.' By which I do NOT mean dusting, vacuuming and scrubbing. Rather art. Novels and photos. Ideas abound. Action is lacking. In spite of the fact that, with certain things off my plate and the fact that I'm retired...I do seem to have some nice blocks of time. I'm very lucky.

Last entry I talked about my clothes. But. Then there are other things about our appearance. Hair, for example. Note here: it sticks up in a (somewhat unpredictable, I like the word insouciant) way.

I struggled for years. With curlers and hairdressers and hair dryers. With long and short. And, finally, I have short hair ("it makes you look younger" someone said once, I never looked back). I wash every day (every time I shower) and put some gel on and let it dry naturally and if I want to later I put some dry hair goop on it to make it stick up in even more unpredictable ways. I no longer think about it. And then, in my self-portrait reflection pictures, I'm happy with it. It's me.

Our lives are charmed. I'm starting to think about writing. And making collages. Or digitally altered photos. Or collages of digitally-altered photos. But. Right Now. I need a nap. Life is good.

Dress Up

What we wear is so much a part of who we are. Isn't it? We would prefer that people looked beyond our 'rags' I'm sure. But they don't. As I type this I am sitting here in white tennis shorts and a white polo (purchased on the cheap at Costco). It is possible I stink a bit since the dried sweat is now ready to give off that metallic smell. I played tennis, finished eight hours ago and haven't changed or showered.

I still remember the first polo shirt I ever owned. It may have been the first knit shirt I owned. The first thing that wasn't sewn by my mother or grandmother. We got it at some discount store, a one-off precursor of the big box discounters of today. I remember standing in the yard of our house, wearing it. It was windy. I was enjoying wearing that polo so much. I wanted a bunch of them.

I always loved jeans. Bear in mind that I went to school for 15 and 1/2 years where pants were verboten for girls. (Worked a couple of years in business after college where the dress code forbade pants, too.) But I loved pants. And tailored blazers. I still do. I don't remember when I last wore a skirt. It was very possibly in 2002 when I was faced with the third or fourth funeral service in a few weeks time and had run out black outfits. I trotted out a black skirt which I still own. The jacket that matches it is probably due a replacement but that skirt probably hasn't been worn since. Oh, wait! No...the last time I wore a skirt was probably after that. Someone invited us to a 'white tie and ball gowns' party. No, I didn't wear a ball gown. I wore a long velvet skirt and a velvet top to sort of look like a gown.

These days I have a few basic modes of dress and with these I try to get by in the situations polite society presents. If an event is really casual I will wear jeans (a loose fit Levis Men's style that happens to fit off the shelf) and a long or short sleeved button-up blouse depending on the season. I might wear a blazer, windbreaker or leather jacket if it's chilly. Sweaters, too, when appropriate. (Which is hardly ever in Austin but I do travel elsewhere.) I will wear hiking boots, tennis shoes or loafers to fit the occasion. To be a little dressier I'll choose the black-wash jeans and loafers. If I'm just hiking around, I might wear a polo with the jeans.

If an event is a little dressier I will wear a suit with pants or slacks and blazer with a button-up blouse. Maybe a covered placket blouse or some pleats to fancy it up. Maybe even, choke, a piece of jewelry or a scarf. I wear my nicest flats. I can still walk a couple of miles in them. I have one pair of lace up black and cordovan spectators I sometimes wear, too.

For black tie I wear tuxedo pants and a top with a bit of spangle or maybe really wear a tuxedo (coat, too). I have a silver turtle neck, various sparkly tops, vests, tuxedo shirts. I wear a pair pf flat 'tuxedo' pumps There are Cole Haans as are most of flats and loafers. A few of my shoes are Ballys, though.

For tennis or the gym, I wear something from a small collection of shorts, polos, sweats.

And that's it.

I enjoy wearing jeans or slacks and blazers. I enjoy having pockets. My blazers or suits are either custom-made, expensive women's wear or men's wear tailored to fit. All have pockets.

I feel sorry for women who are forced to wear certain clothing. I feel sorry for women who feel they have to wear high heels or short dresses or ball gowns. It's hard to know who is really wearing what pleases them. I empathize with men who want to wear women's wear. I understand that one just wants the clothing they want. But me? Most of the time, now, I am happy with my clothes and I also manage not to offend those around me. I hope anyway.

And I mostly get by with my sartorial choices, too. A black blazer covers a multitude of sins. So to speak.

[Photo: SoCo boutique. Me and FFP.]