Walking Downtown

Off we go on a walk to Stevie.

Walking to Stevie (the wonderful statue of local Blues legend Stevie Ray Vaughn on the south side of Lady Bird Lake) is one of our "standard" walks.

We almost always cross the pedestrian bridge over Shoal Creek at Third Street (see above) and walk through the Seaholm Plaza.

Seaholm Plaza, where a power plant once was.

We continue down the steps in Seaholm Plaza to Second Street.

Down the stairs to Second Street.

Then it's across the Pfluger Pedestrian Bridge.

Across the Pfluger.

And over to the trail by Vic Mathias Shores.

Along the trail with the skyline across the lake.

We take an obligatory picture with Stevie.

Stevie.

Sometimes we turn around. But today we briefly went to the lobby of the Hyatt Hotel and then continued to the Congress Bridge.

Steps to Congress Bridge.

Crossing the Congress Bridge is quite a view.

Capitol View.

One has to pass Veracruz All Natural without getting a taco.

Mural by Veracruz.

Today we walked on the south side of César Chavez to Colorado as we headed home.

Walking toward the Buford Tower.

Along the way today we noticed some Elon protest.

Elon.

We also noticed that there is a drag brunch at Jo's. Drag won't be allowed at The University of Texas. So we need more drag everywhere.

Drag Brunch at Jo's. Second Sunday of each month.

And it is spring!

Redbuds are the harbinger of Spring there but all kinds of things are blooming and budding. 

Need to Walk!

The Visible Woman...walks.

I have to get out and walk. It's where I do my best thinking. The exercise is good, too. Seeing things at ground level, exploring change in the neighborhood is never boring but the repetitive one foot, other foot, do it again clears the mind.

We haven't been walking enough lately. FFP felt ill. Then yesterday our walking ambitions were cut short by rain. It was nice later but FFP went to the Ballet Austin "Nutcracker" performance in his back stage "Mother Ginger Wrangler" role and I drove him over and then did various things around the apartment.

The picture above of the quote carved into a rock was taken last week in Butler Park near the Palmer Events Center. We did take a short walk over there to tour around the Armadillo Christmas Bazaar a bit last week. We walked around to the retention pond and we saw all these rocks carved with quotes on the north side of it. We had never seen them. Truth is we rarely go to this part of this park which is kind of lovely. It has a retention pond which reflects the downtown skyline.

But I need to walk today! I need to see what I have failed to notice before. And I need to clear my head. My head is full of news of the evils of the world and the haggard hope people find in the holiday season. I need to focus for a while on what's just right in front of that lead foot.

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.

Going Solo

Reflection of the tree in Frost Bank Tower with my silhouette. 

The Visible Woman...reflects.

Yesterday FFP felt awful. He would cough. And he would sleep. He could barely eat. (He is much better today.)

I felt fine. Great really. He had been feeling bad Sunday and every time I suggested an outing he said he didn't quite feel like it. So we read and we watched TV. And we read and watched TV some more. I became lethargic and antsy.

So yesterday I just went out twice and walked around downtown and looked in shops. I bought FFP Christmas presents on one trip and a hostess gift for the people who invited us for Christmas dinner on another. The weather was astonishing. The sky a beautiful shade of blue, the sun shining but the air cool, not much wind. It was a joy to be alive and outside. 

We had a benefit party in the evening at Four Seasons Residences. Around noon FFP said he couldn't do it. So I'd sent a message to the organization to fill the seat if they liked. Around six I headed over there. It's about ten blocks. I was a little chilly when I arrived (I had on a muffler and a suit, no sweater or overcoat) but it was fine. The party was in a beautiful apartment where a lot of furniture had been moved out and tables set up for dinner. The views were lovely. The art was interesting. Neil deGrasse Tyson spoke about astrophysics. I talked to interesting people and had some wine and dinner. Then I walked home in the cool, beautiful night.

I don't do a lot of things without FFP these days. I play tennis a few times a week with my friends and go for walkie/talkie/lunch with a friend about once a month and go out with 'girls' occasionally. Mostly I do things with FFP. Shopping, meals out, events. He has board meetings or appointments and sometimes shops by himself for clothes and such. (I have no patience for it.)

It felt strange to do things he would normally do with me by myself. (Except for shopping for him for a present. But I only do that once or twice a year.) I didn't feel like I was at a loss so that was good. I enjoyed rambling around and I didn't feel threatened walking to the event by myself. He didn't feel so bad that I felt guilty leaving him. I enjoyed the weather and I talked to people at the party. We usually split up at parties anyway.

I guess it's nice to know I function well enough without him. For a lot of our thirty seven years together we've had time apart. Work and business trips had us apart a lot. Now we spend a lot of time together. He has a few board meetings and other non-profit work and interviews people for a column he does.

I'm glad that we aren't driving each other crazy! We seem to do all right with lots of together time.

New York, New York

The Visible Woman...walks.

We are in New York City, Our hotel is on Fifth Avenue. It's about six blocks south of the famous NY Library. We love walking in this town. When the weather is nice (and sometimes even when it's inclement) we walk to get places and walk to experience New York streets. Today, if all goes well, we will walk to the West Village for an early dinner and catch an Off Broadway show after that. During the day we may well walk around Times Square or to the Upper East or West side. People often are amazed that we do these walks. But a two mile walk will take us to most of the things we want to see. And along the way there are many amazing surprises.

I posted the above paragraph in case I couldn't deal with thumb typing and Chrome on the iPad. Butt, here's a brief NYC walking report. We arrived on Tuesday, taking a car service from JFK,  and after lunch in the hotel and unpacking we had a nap and walked to 59th Street, looking in shop windows and fighting crowds of sidewalk gawkers and rushing New Yorkers. Then we walked back, regrouped and walked to a restaurant on the north side of Madison Square Park. That's only ten, short up/down blocks.

On Wednesday we walked over to Madison and up to 82nd and came back to the theater district and walked around, saw a matinee on 47th, walked some more, met friends at Sardi's and walked back to the hotel. We walked at least five miles. My Austin training well-prepared me, though, and no sore legs.

Yesterday we had timed tickets to the Frick Collection so we walked there and back. That's on 70th so that's 33 blocks each way and lots of ped traffic. Blocks are short going up and down Manhattan, though, generally. We had reservations for a late lunch at a fancy restaurant near the Frick but decided to dress up a bit. The hotel gave us a ride in the hotel car there and we grabbed a cab back. Later we walked to Time Warner Center to see a jazz show at Dizzy's Coca Cola Club. That's only a little over a mile and a half.

Hopefully we'll walk to the Village and back this evening after a walk to 44th Street to meet friends for lunch. I only hope the walking offsets the eating we are doing, but that's another story.

Danger!

The world is full of danger. It's much safer here in Austin, Texas than in, say, the Syrian city of Homs where two journalists were killed today. But Sunday a driver under the influence of something jumped the curb and killed a man and critically injured a woman on Guadalupe a couple of miles from here. We are hyper-alert when we walk, but danger always comes out of left field, doesn't it?

I find I'm in the best mood when I don't over think being safe and just accept that death and/or destruction will find me. One just has to do the best one can to stay safe and healthy and then just admire the way the world operates. Randomly within limits we don't always understand. When I realize how safe I am and yet how each and everyone and every thing is vulnerable, I can embrace the little delights like shop window photos, meals, museums and the people around me with the respect they deserve.

And to think...I haven't even read the obituaries today.

[Today's photo is a reflection on SoCo at the Parts and Labor store with the logo of Shark Attack Media.]

Om My Walk

Life is so complicated these days that you have to leave home to relax. Get in the theater with your smart phone politely silenced and put in your pocket, concentrate on the production for a couple of hours. Go on a walk where you have to watch the ground for things to trip on and watch for cars or bikes that might collide with you, focus only on what's really nearby and what's in your head.

Even driving there is so much input as you whiz by things. Walking is the best way to relax and concentrate your attention. On a walk you can clearly see the litter, the dead animals, the details on houses and businesses. You can stop and window shop. Maybe look at antiques on the east side (as above). I get my camera out and shoot a picture or two, but at home I'm often looking at slides shows of years of pictures. (I know, I know.) If I watch TV I'm always reading as well, usually a stack of newspapers. I will skip over to e-mail, check Twitter, feeds and facebook and get distracted by linking to interesting stuff. Mostly I think of things I should do: pay a bill, plan some event, organize something, clean something. Can't do that if you are out putting one foot in front of the other.

I have thought of working on a novel while sitting at my computer and have even written a few words of it. But in my head, on my walks, I have meditated my way to the end of the novel. Not all the characters have names but the arcs through time are there, a completely invented world over decades, pretty well worked out. It will never be committed to paper, though, because I'd have to sit at home, with all the distractions, and type it up. Just glancing up at the bookshelf threatens to take me away. On a walk there are plenty of distractions but they come at you slow and give you to time to think, to create, mantra or not.

Speak, Memory

One of my ongoing agonies is a lack of an accurate record of where I've been, what I've done, how far I've walked and what I ate. A blog is one way to keep up with stuff like that. I haven't posted here since May. So, yeah, that's not working. Oh I've tweeted. Posted pictures of Austin daily. And perhaps scribbled in a notebook or private little logging app. But my life and my history and the history of our time here is essentially getting lost faster than I care to ponder. Not that my life that important. No, it's really not.

But as the anniversary of 9/11 approaches you wonder what you were thinking then. In ten years, I might wonder what I was doing as Texas tried to burn down around me.

I used to organize a daily journal. Online. And I spent considerable time scribbling in notebooks. Notebooks I still have somewhere or have transcribed into (probably lost) files on the computer.

Given all the disasters that abound these days and my good luck (so far) at dodging them, it is interesting what I wrote on 9/13/2001:

Either the molds or the cumulative feeling of helplessness, is making me sick. I take some Dimetapp, drink Sleepy Time Tea and eschew alcohol and caffeine and try to get a good night's sleep. I'm such a wimp. What if something had actually happened to me?

I'm happy to be able to look at my situation and see how lucky I really am. That nothing really significant has touched me. My planes stayed in the air, the 1981 flood didn't reach the house and when I've stumbled on paths near precipices I've been spared the short acceleration to the rocks at the bottom.

But the memory thing. Where was I with that?

What sparks memory anyway? Why do I forget what happened in a tennis game just seconds before and then suddenly say "oh, yeah, passed down the line" or "sailed my overhead volley out." Or never remember at all. Why do pictures evoke an experience for us, even come to represent it totally? Why is everything happening so fast that we can't really record it? Does it help or hurt that all our social media contacts are out there connecting us to people, places, events and ideas we can't embrace ourselves?

I started thinking about writing this ramble one day when I was thinking about things I saw on the hike and bike trail. I heard these two guys talking. One said something like "Do your kids spend a lot of time at your house?" I was going to write it down or tweet it later and then I thought: were they running or riding bikes? Weird. Absent that detail from memory it stopped me in my tracks. On subsequent trail walks, I tried to remember a few encounters more accurately. But still they were missing pieces. Today I saw a pair of small poodles. But I don't remember who was running with them. I saw the Indian chief (a bronzed, bare-chested guy with his gray hair in braids) but I couldn't tell you what kind of shorts he wore. I saw an Old English sheepdog but don't remember the person with him (or was it a she dog?). I do think the owner was female. I heard a guy say into his phone: "Do you know how valuable that is?" It was a man, looked like a businessman, tall. But I don't remember much else about hin. Things are remembered but many more things are lost.

In yesterday's NY Times Science Times there was an article on the development of the memory process. It shows that children develop memories but have trouble retrieving the source of the memory. I empathized with the children in this test. I know I saw something, but when??? Maybe this is why I can't play Bridge well. You have to remember the bidding, the hand being played. It's a blur for me with all the other hands, other times. Maybe I have a child brain. I wonder if I can develop a way to remember things in a better way in my twilight years?

Clearly, it's not possible to make an adequate record of things external to oneself and use that as a crutch. Sure I saved some info from 9/11/2001 but by that very act it almost becomes everything I remember.

I cadged the title for today's piece from a memoir collection by Vladimir Nabokov. And I will use a quote from him to address my final worry about memory and its incompleteness and usefulness. I worry that if I use real things in fiction (which I, of course, never write or at least never complete) that it will rob the thing of some truthfulness. Here's my parting quote:

I have often noticed that after I had bestowed on the characters of my novels some treasured item of my past, it would pine away in the artificial world where I had so abruptly placed it. Although it lingered on in my mind, its personal warmth, its retrospective appeal had gone and, presently, it became more closely identified with my novel than with my former self, where it had seemed to be so safe from the intrusion of the artist.

And so it goes. Another reason not to write 'my' fiction: I would lose even more of my real past!

We may discuss this memory thing, further, lads and lasses, but I've decided to hit publish. Shocking, I know. Perhaps it will not be another three months.

What I Wish For

I wish I were out taking a walk on a bright, cool day. I took this from the Pfluger Pedestrian bridge last Sunday. I was walking back from Zach Scott theater and I was going to meet FFP at the condo and we were going to a party that promised to be wonderful (and was). The "kids" (my 39-year-old niece and her husband and their three-year-old daughter) were still with my dad so I wasn't worried about him as much. Life felt right.

As I type this I'm sitting at my dad's. Just goofing off on the Internet at the moment. We've been sitting here discussing what help he is going to ultimately need when he finishes recovering from this illness and when/if home health is stopped. There were no big duties when I got here today. I got his paper in and that pleased him. "You get addicted to things," he said. He told the OT evaluator yesterday he didn't read much anymore. He doesn't in the way that I don't read much anymore: he reads papers and magazines but hasn't gotten around to any books lately.

My life hasn't been the way I've wanted it lately. Too much hospital and sick room. Too much worry and unknown stuff with Dad. Heck, with myself as well. Not enough exercise, not enough walks (like the one from the picture), not enough tennis. Not even enough cleaning my own apartment and doing other chores there and computer stuff. (I always long to do that stuff when I don't have the time for it.)

I've gotten away to holiday parties and some adventures with FFP in the evenings and it's been good some nights, great even. Other times I was down a little, feeling sorry for dad, angry at dad, angry at myself, feeling like a failure. Mostly, though, it's been delicious getting away, going to parties and out to eat.

I used to have a little writing exercise I did when I felt my life wasn't going my way. I would write down a perfectly imagined future, what I'd do day in/day out and week in/week out. There would be descriptions of exercise, dining, travel, shopping, creating. Then I would ask myself what parts of the life described I could have in spite of my current situation. In other words, I'd try to find time inside the real life limitations of my existence (work, chores, taking care of others, limited resources like money and time) to do things that I'd do if there were no limitations. This made me really realize how much I enjoyed, say, exercise or playing tennis or even some chores. It made me realize that if limitations were cast aside, I'd still love a fine meal and a glass or two of wine or reading the newspaper with a good cup of coffee.

Digging deeper in your desires will make you realize how much you really have already of your 'perfect' life. And it will make you make a few changes, too, because many times what you want is right there. You just have to do the things you love.

The Art of the Walk

Today I made a choice. OK, several choices. But one of them was to not go to the gym and really get up a sweat, maybe finishing reading Molly Bloom's soliloquy on the bike, lifting some weights. And instead to go down to the Hike and Bike trail with FFP and breathe in the fresh air and look at the blue sky and see people, running and walking and biking and pushing strollers. People sweating or strolling. Talking to each other. We saw several people we know. We really enjoyed it. Maybe it wasn't the optimum exercise for the body (because we don't run, race walk or even walk fast...we stroll, stop to look, take pictures). But it really feeds me emotionally.

It is fun to see things from new directions, to see people out there enjoying Austin's amenities. We noticed all the adjacent parking lots were crammed. We felt good we didn't have to drive to get there.

Another choice I made this morning was to sit, drink coffee, watch Sunday morning TV and work the crossword. Ah, yes. Sunday. A day of great choices.

Flânerie

Flânerie? Is it a kind of stone work as above? Just a squishy French word that the Blogger spell check doesn't recognize even though a good English dictionary will have a listing? Am I a flâneur? Is that a confession I should make on the Internet?

Got an e-mail a couple of days ago that Michael Barnes, the uber-social blogger and columnist over at the Austin American-Statesman, had posted a blurb about a book about walking. In it, says he, this Brit Geoff Nicholson talks about synonyms for walking. One of which is flânerie. Anyway my friend who alerted me to the post is a friend that I used to have lunch with monthly. We still have a monthly lunch but we add a stroll to it before and/or after. I have been familiar with flanerie for a long time. It's not really about walking. It's about the the kind of observation you can only usually do while walking. Or sitting in a public place. I like to walk around with my digital camera and, if I'm alone, perhaps with a notebook. Sure I'm motivating on my feet but, more importantly taking in images (whether actual ones or just mental observations) and ideas. The stone wall above is interesting. It's tucked away in a walkway behind Book People. Only walkers would probably ever see it.

I already own two books (one read, one unread) about Flânerie. This one and this one. Starting small book collections about an obscure subject and perhaps reading (or pretending to read) them in a cafe or sitting on a wall...that's very much in the spirit of the flâneur. It's all related in my mind to the dilettante. Something I've frequently written about. And even wrote a poem about.

Yesterday I had a walk and a lunch with my flânerie friend. It was random and fulfilling. As such things should be. And this morning this vain attempt to write about how I feel about these things I have wasted time that should have been devoted to cleaning, exercise, finances or, at least, some reading. But somehow that's OK with me. And what would we expect from a dilettante fan of flânerie. Now I' m thinking that since FFP has taken the dilettante mantle (he has 'Consulting Dilettante" on his business card) that I should make some new cards that say "Flâneur." (Right now mine say 'Pretending to Write but Really Just Blogging.' Much less pithy if funny and accurate.)

The Fire Next Time...

No, not a fire. But this sunrise in the chilled water steam looks more like a fire than the last post, even, huh?

I don't have anything coherent to say today. (My friend Jette said on Facebook that she was 'impressed by her own incoherence.' I thought she said 'imprisoned' which I get. Impressed am I, too, by mine.) I think I'll just dash off a bunch of random stuff. Follow along if you wish. Otherwise, see you later. (I have posted another couple of amusing, well to me, Journal of Unintended Consequences posts if you are looking for alleged coherence.)

So, random things. Not random things about me necessarily which a lot of people are doing twenty-five of lately (but not me, so far I'm resisting or maybe editing my batch in my head). But anyway random stuff.

That chilled water from that plant? Expensive to use it turns out. We thought it would be an efficient cooling option. But it costs $14 a month to have access to the chilled water to cool and it is decidedly expensive to actually divert some across your fan. Ah, well. Maybe it's better for the environment? Don't know. For the last month or more, we haven't turned on either heat or A.C. but we have to pay $14 bucks in case we do. A person can do Netflix for that. Oh, well. Still haven't had to use the heater in this place which is electric so you know that wouldn't be efficient. The bad news is that the place is being heated by computers and TVs and computer peripherals. So yeah. Wasted electricity.

My 98-year-old father-in-law just called me to remind me he gets an extra deduction for being blind. I figured out they didn't owe any income taxes, but he also figured that out. With a magnifying glass no doubt.

Reading list: I finished Bénabou's book as I think I mentioned. I started another small, light book suitable for carrying around when I go somewhere with just FFP and we take books to read while we eat, wait for a performance to start, etc. It is Milan Kundera's Slowness. What do I like about Milan? That he is not afraid to write fiction and he doesn't impose unnecessary rules on himself, it doesn't seem, and just plunges in and if characters or scenes get in the way, to hell with characters and scenes. Which makes me wonder several things. Should I buy (and maybe even read) his book on writing novels. Would it help me with my problematic novel project or would it just become another book I haven't read. Which, if I can be allowed to digress, leads me to another little side project which is how to use technology to present the novel being accidentally and haphazardly written here as a whole. This caused me to do some brief, futile searches of some techie sites. I'm always assaulted with just the information I do not want to read. And I'm reminded that, even for the little HTML I know I constantly forget actual syntax.

But back to reading. I'm falling behind on my newspapers. That's because I've spent too much time working crosswords, trying to get further into the week in The New York Times and working the unsatisfying but still tempting ones in the Austin American-Statesman. This reduces the input I have for The Journal of Unintended Consequences. And I have an outstanding (and in my mind's eye coherent) essay for this space on newspapers to complete as well. One reason I'm behind on the paper's is that I haven't been riding the recumbent bike as much and the couple of times I've done it I have been reading Ulysses. I'm determined to get through to page 933 of the edition I'm working on before I book my trip to New York for Bloomsday this year. I purchased this edition in Dublin in 2004. It was the hundredth anniversary of Bloom's Day but I was there after the fact, in September not June. Anyway, I'm on page 758. Bloom and Stephen are in the livery stand having something like coffee. This will be my first complete trip through any edition. Joyce was not afraid to write a novel either. Stream of consciousness and unconsciousness and all that.

Other books (and magazines) lie neglected, partly finished. A book of conversations with Woody Allen. Jonathan Safran Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. I recently purchased two books from Amazon. Covers are stiff and uncracked. I was well into E.J. Kahn, Jr.'s Year of Change when somehow I put it aside. Really good book. E.J. Kahn in 1994 died after a car accident. (I sometimes wonder when reading a decades-old book what happened to the person who wrote it in the interim. So I looked up his NY Times obit a few weeks ago.) Reading Kahn's book made me wonder if I owned The New Yorker and Me. Which was Kahn's first book about his relationship with that venerable rag. Did I mention that I own The Complete New Yorker and that, recently, I printed out the Salinger story "Hapworth 16, 1924" from the June 19, 1965 edition and read it. FFP was going to read it, too, but I don't think he has. We read an article about Salinger in the NY Times on the occasion of his ninetieth birthday which mentioned the story. Salinger is not dead, but he's a recluse.

So, not doing as much reading as I'd like. We are quicker to recycle papers and magazines these days, but they are still building up too much. And I secreted a large pile in a storage thing by my my chair and I really need to clean those out so I can store other things in there. (These are from, I'm afraid, last summer when we were in the deep throes of moving.)

I've been watching some of the Australian Open. I am especially interested in the Federer/Nadal match that will occur tonight. I may watch it live. Or not. I'm much more interested in that than the Stupid Bowl. Who is playing again?

Did I mention that I hurt my back playing tennis? That I just keep playing anyway. I need to do a good 'core' exercise program when it heals. Assuming it will. I always assume such things. If it's broke, it will heal. With our bodies this isn't always a correct assumption but it's a helpful one.

It's a nice day for a walk. I think I'll take one. We are going to see Austin Lyric Opera's "Rigoletto" tonight. We will walk to the Long Center, too, I think. Did I mention how glorious the weather has been. It has. Although everyone, myself included, seems to have had a cycle of cedar fever.

FFP is listening to opera and making himself vegetarian barbecue for lunch. I think I'll have some. (OK, did that. Had a Chimay with it. So sue me.)

So, yeah, random stuff. Not going much of anywhere. Sort of like my life. Next time, though. The fire.

What Were Those Reasons Again?

Pictures was one thing, huh? Well, um, I'm not all that thrilled with this one except that I like the way my hair was spiked up. I'm reflected in a shop window on West Fifth. The shop sells and repairs lamps.

I was walking down West Fifth yesterday (even though it is pedestrian unfriendly) partly to see what was going on and get some exercise, partly to take some pictures for Austin Daily Photo. I had some 'free' time. I spent some on finances and taxes yesterday and did a tiny bit of proofreading and computer fixes for FFP, but mostly I did whatever I felt like. I had a long walk. I say 'long' but it was only a couple of miles. Maybe 2.5 after I detoured to the post office and through Whole Foods. I walked all the way to El Arroyo on Fifth and back on Sixth. and stopped for a late lunch/snack and read while I ate.

I heard some great conversations while sitting there, eating and drinking my water. There was a table with three blonds. They were celebrating a birthday and there were pretty gift sacks involved. These conversational fragments seemed like they were out of a movie:

“I don’t wear anything when I run. I take everything off. I can’t believe you run in your wedding ring.”

“Skinny girl margaritas…tequila on ice with lime juice.”

“What happens when you eat ice cream?”

“Sick to your stomach? Yeah, I’m curious because that is starting to happen to me.”

I enjoy going out and watching and listening to people. I checked out a lot of construction and wandered through two shops. (I had a vague mission to find one perfect little accessory for the condo, but really I was just enjoying goofing off.)

I have some things on my mind today but I mostly want them off my mind. I don't want to even think about them, much less blog about them. One of my friends and I talk about letting things go. I'm trying to embrace my happiness with the way my life is going and not concentrate on things I could (and did you might say) rant about. I played tennis today and I enjoyed it, wind and chill notwithstanding. I am going to have a few drinks and some good food tonight.

Oh...the other thing is...I'm thinking it may be time to get a Smart Phone. Or at least a Smart(er) phone. Any opinions? Maybe I could buy Obama's Blackberry after they cleansed it?

Cocooning

Today we did some cocooning, just hanging around our place. We did walk about three miles this morning, over to Caffe Medici on W. Lynn with our friend and our God Dog. The dog walked further, detouring up walks and chasing a few squirrels.

Since we have a gym across the hall, it counts as part of the cocoon, although it's a public area. I did forty-five minutes on the bike. I had to use my iPod to pipe Ella Fitzgerald and such into my ears to avoid listening to rap music on an audio source that couldn't be cut off. (I know I said I wouldn't use my iPod in this way. It was an emergency.)

I confess to some depression today. In part it's because my computer setup had a glitch and that always makes me feel bad because I feel so dependent on it which is stupid, I suppose. Fortunately one of my backup schemes saved me. All is well for the moment. Also, the ongoing meltdown of the world makes me depressed and my condo needs cleaning and I have other chores I don't feel like doing. So I worked as much of the NY Times Sunday Magazine crossword as I could (with a couple of Internet cheats and asking FFP some sports questions) and then logged onto this cool site that has the solution and discusses it. I ate the food FFP prepared (because left to my own devices I eat cheese from the frig although I also had a bagel and cream cheese at the coffee shop).

Instead of doing what I should be doing, I downloaded CDs to iTunes. I read some newspapers while displacing from the things I should have been doing, too. I read that Billy Graham was too old and sick to advise Barak Obama. In fact, Barak has yet to get to meet him although Biily would like to 'pray with him.' This is news, my friends, in the era of evangelical politics.

When I was all sweaty from my workout, I got a call from Lifeline Systems that my dad's system had gone off and they couldn't communicate with him. We were halfway out there when they called to say that he was OK and had simply "spilled a beer on his phone device." We continued out there and, sure enough, I think the beer may have disabled the phone. They'll replace it. I wasn't all that worried. Real emergencies don't follow predictable patterns, I find. It did make us get out of the house. We even thought of grabbing dinner out on the way home, but instead came home, relied on FFP's cooking again and watched "Sunset Boulevard" and some football. We drank some delicious wine, too. Cocooning can be a good thing if you don't take it too far.

Choices

I was trying to choose a picture for Austin Daily Photo. I finally fell back on something that I'd used with a different crop on this blog because it had a flag. A flag distorted by a circular window over at the Avenue Lofts. (I'm a sucker for circular windows, but that's another story.) Every day I have to post a picture over there that is somewhat different from the previous ones. Have to is too strong, of course. It's a commitment with no consequences if I default. Some things, a lot of things, are like that.

I chose this picture rather arbitrarily for this entry because I really have an obsession with reflection and this shop window on West Sixth presents a fall theme.

We make so many choices every day. Yesterday I decided to do the following: (1) clean the dining table and the console and glass shelves; (2) work on a writing project for a possible newspaper column that didn't really come together, not yet anyway; (3) work on a Christmas postcard to be sent early in an attempt to stop some errant holiday mail; (4) transcribe some old paper journals and write in my private journal; (5) watch the rest of The Commitments, a movie FFP asserted he's already seen that we rented from NETFLIX; (6) do a workout of fifty minutes on the recumbent bike and a few free weights and weight machines; (7) shower off the sweat from number six; (8) walk with FFP to the Film Festival office to pick something up; and (9) impulsively (a sort of common impulse between us) stop at the new Corazon (old Castle Hill) for soup and salad; (10) read all the day's papers as well as a pile of sections from prior days; (11) watch the entire movie Giant for the umpteenth time; (12) watch some police procedurals; (13) find a new dentist; and (14) work a bunch of crosswords. No, that wasn't my 'to do' list but the things that I actually chose to do and, by golly, for whatever it's worth, DID.

So today was blank on my calendar and I was thinking of taking a walk while FFP went to an interview, maybe cleaning house, working the Tuesday Times puzzle, getting a workout. FFP decided to walk with me so we stopped in time for him to get back and clean up and go to the interview. And while I was walking the dentist called and instead of waiting until December 10th to get my teeth cleaned, I could do it at 11. So, yeah teeth cleaning and X-Rays that were really digital. (Did you think they could make holding the film in your mouth more uncomfortable? Yeah, they did. Instead of a thin piece of film, it's a CF disk or something.) But no big deal. My teeth are clean, I've had my lecture about home dental hygiene. I have to go back to see the dentist for a thorough intake exam. Yeah, but I'm not buying off on optional work, by golly, not after last year's fiasco with the old dentist.

Now I just don't feel like doing anything. Except maybe taking a nap. But teeth cleaned. An accomplishment for sure. And, for what it's worth, I can walk to my new dentist.

Reflecting on Wasted Time

I find lots of ways to waste time. Yesterday I blogged (yeah, maybe that's a time waster, you think?) Yesterday I outlined the ways I thought I might use (or waste) my hours. I went on that walk I mentioned. It was long and fun. I stopped for a taco and coffee. I wrote the following as the umpteenth potential first sentences of one of my most ambitious unwritten novels (Pogonip) while sitting in front of a fancy convenience store on Barton Springs consuming same.

Pogonip slid out of his seat and flipped open the overhead, grabbing his overcoat and removing a soft-sided briefcase and a day pack and easily hefting them on one shoulder. He wasn't particularly eager to join the jostling crowd in the aisle or even to escape the plane, but the tall, slim woman in the window seat was halfway up, gripping the headrest in front of her, bent uncomfortably in a curve defined by the compartment above her. He edged into the crowd to give her room to slip out and stand nervously beside him, fishing in a shapeless cloth bag she'd had under the seat.

I was actually quite satisfied with this, but it didn't inspire me to continue. Instead I started thinking 'Why fiction? Is it because I know so little that is fact?"

Well, I did take the walk. I did stop for coffee and snack. I never worked out. Instead I went to the storage unit and fished around for some office supplies for FFP, got an AC filter for a friend, emptied the trash can I'd provided for the storage area (which others had filled with discarded things), walked to the Office Supply store nearby with FFP to get the supplies he needed (which, of course, I couldn't find in the storage unit), checked some financial things and read the papers (worked crosswords), showered, went to a political talk at the Headliners Club, drank Manhattans, ate, watched a CSI: New York.

Pogonip will have to wait to walk down the concourse. The woman sitting next to him will have to wait to fumble two cell phones out of that bag. Her place in his novel will pend revelation until another day. When he's walking down the concourse, he will see three newspaper dispensing boxes. Each paper (Austin, Dallas, Houston) will have a different photo from a terrorist attack. He may smell the Iron Works barbecue and hear Marcia Ball music over the loud speakers. Or not. The newspaper box thing relies on something that happened to me. I walked down that concourse and saw those boxes displaying different views of an airline crash. I wish I could remember when that happened. Maybe I should wait to write the novel until I have typed up all my old journals and hope that I wrote something down about it?

And so it goes. It's really no wonder that I can't really write a novel or much of anything else. Today I have wasted most of the day. I spent a lot of it at my club. First I played tennis. Then I ate, did a few exercises, sat through a long meeting where I didn't feel I contributed anything. And now? I'm blogging!

[Picture reflects the photographer in the reflecting balls embedded in the wall at Chuy's on Barton Springs.]

Dizzy Dame

This is a reflection of railings at a modern retail and lofts area on SoCo. I've heard some things about that place kind of being a disaster for tenants. Maybe it's always that way, huh?

I'm actually NOT dizzy this morning. I had a bit to drink last night, all wine actually. I had some interesting dreams, I think, but I've forgotten them.

I have a goal or two today, sort of unformed. We have an early evening event. It's cool and sunny outside so I think I should take a long walk and maybe have coffee and a snack somewhere and think. Then I think I should get a workout. And I think I should read. And write. (Not blog. Write. Really. I'm thinking of actually working on the Pogonip piece. Yeah, though, probably not.)

And so it goes. One day. Another day. The same, yet not. We may grow intellectually, we may get fatter, we definitely grow older. But we can take that first step on a walk. There you go.

Progress Delayed

There are things I should be doing. Cleaning house. Getting the files and boxes I moved in here organized. Getting a workout. Maybe going for a walk on this cool morning.

I am supposed to (according to Dad's GP) call a cardiologist for an appointment to get an echo cardiogram of his heart. But Dad said (during my morning call to him when I told him this) that he would 'think about it.' In 2005 he had one after having a TIA. It is a non-invasive test but we both wonder what they will do if they find out he has congestive heart failure. Give him some more drugs? I tell him I'll delay getting the appointment until he talks to his GP about it. He needs to go get a flu shot. He changes the subject. "When are we going to get a haircut?" I suggest next Tuesday after my tennis match.

I need to clean house because we are having people over tomorrow evening on a hallway progressive cocktail party that one of the guys on the hall organized. I need to accomplish things. But it's such a cool morning. I think I'll take that walk.

I took the picture in front of a Bubble Tea place on the Drag.

My New Neighborhood

One of the first things we did when we moved downtown was make dates with some couples who already lived downtown. We'd met them downtown for meals before or visited in their places, but this was to inaugurate downtown friendships in this new way: WE LIVE DOWNTOWN, TOO! One couple mentioned how many places they walked to and it seemed like they really walked a long way. Since the weather was moving into the teeth of summer, it surprised me. But the longer we are down here, the more we realize how easy and fun it is to roam around on your feet.

When I walked to The Tavern on Tuesday for my friend's book signing, I realized how easy it was to roam over to things in that stretch of Lamar. Not just the venerable Tavern but Wink Wine Bar, an interesting looking health food snack bar, Betty Sport (sport stuff for the ladies) and Twelfth Street Books. The latter (where the picture was taken) is a real live (as opposed to WEB only) erudite secondhand bookstore. Most of those don't maintain a storefront anymore. (I saw my friend David at Momo's the other night and he used to run a great place called State House Books. He is still in the business. Only just virtually.) Which reminds me: my dad and I somehow got on the topic of 'book rate' postage and wondered if it still exists. And, yes, it does.

But I digress. My new neighborhood. Yesterday I only got out in the neighborhood for that walk over to the Four Seasons. I felt cooped up because, for the rest of the day, the closest I got to getting out was going to the parking garage to get some books out of my car and going to the concierge to get a package. I ordered some bookends. Given our decoration strategy (bookshelves, bookshelves, bookshelves with art and artifacts and gewgaws mixed in, all artfully arranged in the aesthetic of devil may care modern collector), our decorator said 'bookends are our friends.' However, only the right bookends work, in my opinion, so we gave some away, saved ones we thought would work and have used things that aren't really bookends. It looks nice, but we are still in the market for a few cool bookends.

But, yeah, digression from new neighborhood and walking in it. Did I mention that I'm stuck inside again today with workmen doing my 'final' AV stuff and motorized shades? Did I mention that Hurricane Ike has promised some stormy weather late tomorrow and early Saturday?

But really the possibilities for things to be walked to are endless. When we moved in, a friend who had been leasing in the Brown Building waiting for his place in this building, turned us on to the delights of Torchy's Tacos which had a trailer in Little Woodrow's parking lot a hop and skip down the street. But they moved! To S. First, I believe. Some people we had turned on to Torchy's just walked the mile and a half each way to satisfy their Torchy desires. Cool.

So, yeah I'm stuck inside getting stuff that makes you stay inside: fancy shades to block the early morning sun and fancy AV equipment. So, you know, you can stick in a Blu-Ray disk at seven in the morning and watch Blu-Ray DVDs all day long with surround sound. I've never seen a Blu-ray disk played (except maybe by accident in a store) and I've never owned a flat screen HD television bigger than the nineteen inch one I bought for a temporary one back in June. I don't own a Blu-ray disk. I thought of buying one (1) Blu-ray Disk but I couldn't find one at Costco. I didn't look too hard.

I wish I were out walking. Guys measuring and drilling in my condo make me palpably nervous. Forrest finds errands to do although I don't think it makes him as nervous. He knows I ordered this stuff and I have to answer questions. Although I can't imagine I'd know the answers.

There are so many places I could walk to. Even to the University on a good day. Or take the 'Dillo up there and then walk around. I could go to the Harry Ransom Center or the Blanton, shop on the drag. Heck for the price of the AV and shades, I could take a limo up there every day for a year or two probably and have them wait while I had a burger at Dirty Martin's.

We proved the other day that walking to toney SoCo is no problem. I could shop for weird bookends at Uncommon Objects. We could explore South Lamar, North Lamar (see above) and S. First. We could wander in old West Austin and Clarksville like we did the other day. Of course, downtown offers many wandering options. The library is on Guadalupe, not far away. It's true that the homeless population has made the Central Library a home away from no home, but there are still books there for ordinary people. Wait! I have enough books in the condo (after furious downsizing of them and with a few boxes pending at my dad's house) to last a reader a lifetime. Especially a reader who gets The New Yorker (fifty issues or so a year) and who has subscriptions to two seven-day-a-week newspapers, one six-day-a-week newspaper and one weekly newspaper and who occasionally picks up at least one free weekly. Ruined by Reading. Which is the title of a book that I don't think I gave away. I think it's still in a box at Dad's house.

I could walk to a myriad of coffee shops and write on my laptop or in a journal and look literary. I could walk to the Capitol and take a tour.

But today I sit, logged onto the Internet and worry at the sounds of drilling in the next room. Maybe I'll pop the DVDs of all issues of The New Yorker from 1925 through April 30, 2007 into my iMac and browse around. But I'd sort of rather be walking.

Scary

The city-hired construction workers digging...now that's scary. The mess may keep the Trick or Treaters away, too. We have mini-Tootsie roll pops. That was FFP's choice of fare for the ghouls. Actually Cap Metro is supposedly paying for this project (building sidewalks on Shoal Creek), but the City is doing the supervision. We are looking forward to the sidewalk but it always gives us pause when the city goes after our yard. It was sad to see all that good dirt and grass and irrigation pipe get dumped into a truck. I was too lazy to dig up sod and salvage it. We paid our irrigation guy to cut and cap the system back (hopefully) out of the way of the digging. The city claims they will fix the irrigation system, but we didn't believe they'd do a good job because of our experience when the water main made a mess of the yard.

But it's Halloween. I'm no longer into costumes and celebrations. We will open our door to any kids that get through the mess. But we won't decorate. Until a decade or so ago, Halloween wasn't big in the UK. The New York Times reports that it is quite a business now. Commercial interests encourage it, of course. In 1991 I was in London and went to Hamley's Toy Store. There was a display of Halloween stuff there...an about four-by-four table with a few plastic pumpkins and such. The display seemed to be a nod to having every kind of exotic plaything from all over the world. (Including made in China for the U.S. plastic Halloween paraphernalia.) There was a little wind-up chattering skull. A little girl picked it up, looked at her mother and said, "Look, Mum, Hamlet!" Cultural differences? I guess. Today, I'm betting there is a huge display of Halloween toys and costumes in Hamley's. And the kids know all about it. I checked on the Internet to see if Hamley's still existed. Seems so.

Soon one will be able to peramulate on Shoal Creek and, taking the new sidewalk down 45th, cross the creek and make a nice walk without risking life and limb to cars and bicycles. Cool. It will make going to Fonda San Miguel on foot less scary. It will make Trick or Treaters a lot safer eventually. And since our targeted condo project downtown has started to disappoint us, maybe we will be walking those sidewalks for a long time.