The Perfect Gift

Last year, Mercury, a gift shop on Second Street with an ever-changing array of wares sported this shop window at Christmas.

Let's face it...everyone wants to get it or give it: a perfect gift, beautifully wrapped. A suprise and yet 'just what I/you wanted.' Ninety-nine percent of the time, I think, gifts fall even flatter than our own purchases (which have a sad history of satisfaction themselves).

I love gift-giving. I'm not so keen on receiving things now. Which seems callous and selfish in a way. I was, as a child, quite caught up on the receiving end. I have wrestled with the issue over the years and recently in these pages.

My family's religious tradition is Christianity and we always heard about the gifts of the wise men. Gold, frankincense and myrrh. Who knew about the last two? Gold, pretty clear concept even to a kid. Turns out you can buy the gifts of the Magi online if you like. I guess that would be the 'perfect' gift.

I don't buy too many gifts these days and I secretly hope I don't receive too many. But I like any presents I do buy to have that enigmatic quality of surprise and yet perfection. How did you know? How could you not have known?

Needless to say, I rarely succeed. And I've rarely ripped off the paper and thought, "Wow. I wasn't expecting that, but it is so me!"

I wrote a monologue for a salon once, about getting gifts that you really, really want. I couldn't control the topic. It wanted to be a piece about possessions, being possessed by possessions, religion, holidays, gender-specific toys, gender-bias, the creative mind. It wanted to be a novel, a triology even, a memoir of a hundred-year-old person, a series of fables set to music like Wagner's ring. I had only a five to seven minute monologue, though, with a script I didn't follow printed on two sheets of paper, not quite full, and two props. A toy, an Erector set over forty years old and a Polaroid Land Camera 100 that I received over thirty years ago. The Erector Set had a picture on the front of a boy in a plaid shirt launching a plastic rocket from his metal girder creation. It still has it as a matter of fact. The very set is in the spare room, collecting dust, with a motor that no longer works. Truth is, I have the camera, too, stuck in a closet somewhere. These things were so important to me that I haven't been able to give them up. Soon I will, though. I hope.

I have been posting every day in Holidailies and hoping to receive a 'best of' nod from the reader's panel. I started this entry because the writing prompt of the day is "A gift that didn't disappoint. "I was just sitting here, reviewing my notes for that monologue and looking at my pictures of childhood things and thinking what I could write. Too many things are flooding my brain. Boy...that writing prompt really did it for me if the hope was to get words to spill out. Then I realized (what is it we always say 'to my chagrin?') that I suggested the writing prompt. That took the wind out of my sails somehow. And brought me back to my first thought when I saw the prompt (and failed to look at the link under 'suggested by').

The fish umbrella. It wasn't Christmas. It was my birthday. Which is the same day as a friend of mine's birthday, only I'm a year older. It was 2001 (the last year my mother was alive and not in the hospital on my birthday). We were celebrating at Mom and Dad's house here in Austin. I must have given my friend a present. But I don't remember what it was. But she gave me the fish umbrella. A fine Italian umbrella with a handle with a fish motif. I love that umbrella. I've made sure not to lose it so far.

Well, I'm weary of the topic now. Is there Holidailies recognition for writing the most writing prompts? Because I'm winning. Unless you count Jette and I don't because she's making the selections.

Naughty or Nice?

Walking through our neighborhood last year, I encounted this rather, um, unconventional Santa and snapped a picture.

I've been thinking about the whole 'naughty or nice' conundrum since my niece related the following story:

"The boys and I were driving to [my sister's house] last weekend and we saw a huge train, parked, and full of coal. I pointed it out to the boys and [the four-year-old boy] said, “there must be lots of naughty kids where that train is going!”

I had to laugh that the kid was paying attention to the songs and stories. He is hoping for a Game Boy Advance SP and no coal and switches.

There is lots of naughty loose in the world these days. Everything from the little bit naughty in an ironic way (the contractor indicted for using illegal workers who worked on building border fences) to the over the top naughty genocide killers.

I think there is lots of nice going around, too. Personally I think I fall in between somewhere. I spent most of the day seeing after my dad who had an outpatient surgery. Nice. But I complained about having to get up early and drive in the fog. Naughty.

There isn't much I want from Santa anyway. But being nice is more fun.

A Scallop Boat with Caviar Passengers

I've eaten beans and rice, of course, to get by, and got through college on tuna casseroles and such. But I've eaten my share of gourmet treats, too. And I've never been hungry.

Today's photo shows some lobsters we were buying not long after they were brought in from traps. Not much longer after that we were eating them...they were cooked right there at the dock restaurant. This was in the summer of 2005 on the rocky coast of Maine.

But what about the scallop boat with the caviar passengers of the title? Yes, that was just last night at Jeffrey's. We were sitting at the bar and had ordered some appetizers. I'd ordered a cauliflower bisque with a scallop and caviar. Before it arrived I heard Abby, who was sitting next to me, describe the soup as having a 'scallop boat with caviar passengers.' I knew her name was Abby because FFP was with me so, of course, he'd introduced himself to the strangers to my right...Abby and Leo. Anyway, I thought this description of the soup was hilarious. I said something to FFP about what a contrast our evening's nourishment was to the story of the Indian orphans. He'd already told me about his interview that day, but he proceeded to tell Abby and Leo.

"I interviewed this woman today. In 1999, she was selling TV. [Ed. TV advertising he means, surely one of the most soul-draining occupations.] She and a girlfriend who also sold TV were out for drinks. She asked her friend, 'Aren't you tired of doing this. I am.'" So they sold stock they'd accumulated (before the bubble burst) and traveled around the world kind of randomly. They went first to Maui. Then South Africa and Egypt. Anyway, they ended up in India and on a whim they went to this village looking for this kid who was one of those kids you 'adopt' and send money and letters and gifts to through agencies. Her friend had been sending stuff to this kid and they figured he really didn't exist. But they found him. And he had every card, letter and little gift she'd sent him! They were invited to dinner at an orphanage. There were 150 kids or so there. They were being fed rice only, but the women were visitors and got chicken. When this woman went to put a little boy to bed, he was so thin he almost fell through the slats on the sleeping platform (they had no mattresses). She tried to adopt him, but the adoption system is corrupt and impossible at every level. So she decided to try to build orphanages and save the kids. She started The Miracle Foundation. She has a simple three level approach: shelter, protein, medical care."

And then the soup came. It was delicious. But I couldn't stop thinking about those Indian orphans who if they are lucky enough to be in an orphanage may only have rice to eat.

Say Cheese!

People are told to say 'cheese' because that word is supposed to get us to show our teeth if not smile when it's pronounced.

Frankly, I stare shamelessly into shop windows, not saying anything to myself, when I take my self protraits. Mostly you can only see a bit of an outline of the head (with hair spiking uncontrollably) in these pictures but I detect a frown in this recycled (2005) self protrait.

Over at Holidailies, the writing prompt of the day is "What's the one food it simply wouldn't be [your winter holiday of choice] without?"

Nothing about Christmas (my upbringing was all birth of Christ and Santa) causes me to bust a gut to get some certain food. As a kid growing up I loved my grandmother's homemade rolls and cinnamon rolls. Also her dressing and gravy. The gravy was giblet gravy with bits of boiled egg and, well, giblets...the chopped up liver, gizzard, heart etc. that used to come with your turkey. I wish I could have gravy like that, but I don't think it would make the holiday. I'd need my grandmother or mother around making the gravy and the homemade rolls to really kick me into a holiday mood, I guess. I think about them making that stuff all the time, too, not just this time of year. My grandmother baked chicken and made dressing and gravy year round. She always had the giblets because she had taken the chicken's life that day and had all its edible parts.

I can live without giblet gravy and cornbread dressing. I can live without homemade bread or rolls.

The food I can't live without? The food that I gotta have every day? Cheese. Yeah, cheese makes me smile because I love it. I live on it. I have the extra twenty-five permanent pounds to show for it.

But if you are making that giblet gravy...let me know. I might drop by.

Love My Neighborhood

For a neighborhood to resonate with other people, it needs a name. In Austin if you say 'SoCo' everyone knows you mean a fast-gentrifying, once funky section of Congress Avenue south of the river. I don't live there.

We say, when asked, that we live 'North Central.' But I don't think there is a catchy designation other people would instantly recognize that gives people an idea of where we live.

When it's your own neighborhood, it is defined, in my opinion, by what you can get to by walking. This is why your neighborhood shrinks as you get older. My in-laws can't really make it to Burnet Road anymore and they are several blocks closer than I am. I can walk from here to Central Market or deep into Hyde Park if I wish. I have even walked to my club which is three miles away and on the other side of Mopac. That's reaching, however.

I'll stick to easy walks to show you around. Ones where I could take along the fifteen-year-old dog and she would only get a little tired. We won't actually take her along on this virtual walk, however, because then we will be able to go inside some of the business establishments. Virtually, that is.

The closest businesses to my house are Fonda San Miguel Restaurant, a high-end interior Mexican place with a beautiful bar and dining room; the Around the Corner Store grocery, a gas station convenience store which is quite literally named for its proximity to us; and the Austin Greek Deli which I've never tried but I think sells breakfast tacos along with gyros although maybe there was a taco place there before; and a hair salon, INNU. All these places are about three blocks from here. I don't patronize the latter two, but I buy a lot of gas at Around the Corner and I've been to Fonda about a hundred times, no exageration! For all the folks who live in gated communities far from a six pack of beer, gas or a quality margarita...envy me!

Hancock Drive and North Loop fork off at the Around the Corner. Hancock veers south. There is an odd little business tucked into a house there called Cindy's Games or something. Don't know. Don't want to know. But if you keep walking, there are other conveniences: a branch library; a Tex-Mex restaurant (Jorge's); the fire station (you can drop off unwanted kids there but I think they have to be newborn); and Billy's Burgers (home of fine burgers, delectable vegetarian fast food and a huge number of draft beers...along with pool, video games, darts, TV sports and Wi-Fi). There are other professional offices along the way and if the kidneys are deteriorating after years of sampling beer...there is a dialysis center.

At Billy's you reach Burnet Road. Billy's has a deck 'overlooking' this busy urban artery in fact. It's popular, though, because you can light up out there. This stretch of Burnet is thick with antiques and junk. There is a pretty good-sized antique mall. There are thrift stores operated by the Lutherans and Project Transitions and others. There are 'for profit' junk and vintage and antique shops. There is a joint where you can buy old pinball machines. There are a couple of dollar stores. There is a Mexican bakery. A Mexican take-out place. A liquor store. There is a place to sharpen knives, a barbeque stand, a South American restaurant (Sampaio's), a high-toned home cooking place (Blue Star Cafeteria, which is not a cafeteria), a sushi restaurant. There is Phoenecia Bakery, Upper Crust Bakery and Pacha (a South American coffee shop with delicious food). There is a place selling old vinyl (as in LPs). A CVS drugstore. There is a Thundercloud and a shoe store. If you strap on your hiking boots, you can get to my barber shop (Jane's A Barber Shoppe) and Amy's Ice Cream and Phil's Ice House (which I understand has good burgers but I never get past Billy's). Indeed, you will also find a big old HEB store, another liquor store, a truly weird place selling new and used geegaws called Cats 'N Kids and the Frisco Shop, the last vestige of the Night Hawk chain which is a local legend.

And, as they say, there is much more. If you are stout at walking, you can get your clothes dry cleaned. There is a laundromat near the Fonda. There are several doctors. There is a pet store and a 'good old boy' bar.

It's a nice neighborhood...colorful and pleasant with lots of independent businesses and all the services you'll need. The new sidewalks on Shoal Creek Boulevard are an amazing addition...we used to drive to Fonda at night not because of the distance but because walking wasn't very safe. I'm sure you could walk to Burnet or Bull Creek and catch a bus downtown. But I'll confess I've never done it.

Today's picture was taken of the window of Top Drawer Thrift Store (benefiting Project Transitions) around New Year's Day 2005. I'm thinking of using it for my holiday card next year.

Nothing Festive About It

Yesterday I was beginning to feel caught up in a non-stop festive sugar plum fairy and birth of the Savior and season of light and Santa fest. Yesterday I wore my red blazer. I went to a reception prior to the matinee performance of Ballet Austin's "Nutcracker" (I'll actually attend the performance Friday night.) The green room was done up with silvery decorations and oversized candy decor from the traveling show. They served hot cider. Nothing more seasonal than that.

I picked up my father and he was wearing a garish Christmas tie. We went to a friend's house where there was wine and a groaning table of food and people singing and playing piano. There was a Hannukah song, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" and such and even a sing-a-long of carols.

Today is shaping up as much more ordinary. Maybe I'll forget the season, the reason, the whole bit for a day. I went to water aerobics at the club pool because my dad was up for it. (That's the class equipment on the pool deck.) This is something we do year-round, weather-permitting, on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I exercised a little in the gym afterwards. Our club is really decorated for the holidays, but not in the gym. I didn't go upstairs where there are trees and garlands and candy houses. Dining is closed on Monday anyway.

I'm going to venture out to Costco and I suppose that will be a reminder of the holiday. They are selling giant inflatable yard decorations for one thing. I'm after pretty mundane stuff, though. Shampoo and Cheerios and Ensure. The latter for my in-laws. I may try to score a calendar or something for my mother-in-law as a present. And I'm buying some bubbly for gifts.

But this evening I think I'll watch videos and read about wars and disease and generally put the season aside. Although I might, just might, decide to decorate the inside of the house a little. Or not.

When Left Alone

When left alone I don't dress up like Mother Ginger and join the ballet doing "The Nutcracker." Nope...you won't find me 'riding the skirt' with little bon-bon dancers emerging from it. No...that's Barbara Carson,Founder of Ballet Austin. FFP took the picture backstage last night. He recruits and organizes VIPS for the eleven regular performances of Ballet Austin's annual "The Nutcracker" performances. [More next year when the ballet is between Bass and the new Long Center and will perform in the smaller Paramount.]

FFP also had a reading to attend today for another charity (Badgerdog Publishing) he donates time to as a board member and newsletter writer. So I was left to my own devices most of the day. Not only to go about my errands and such alone (not all that unusual) but also to go to a party without FFP.

When I shop and do errands without FFP, I tend to take a little longer. Today I went to the ATM machine at our bank and I was going to put some more holiday cards in the mailbox next to it but they had already had the one pickup of the weekend. I decided to go across the street to The Menagerie (which is a locally-owned gift shop...owned by a friend of mine I might add). I had a couple of people on my list who didn't really need anything but people I might see and who might drop by with a gift for me. I wandered the shop for thirty minutes while husbands bought expensive jewelry for wives and people picked out wedding china that cost hundreds of dollars a place setting. I got a couple of ideas and when a sales person was suddenly free I asked a couple of questions, picked out some stuff and wandered off to Anderson Coffee Company for ten minutes while they wrapped the stuff. I got four things. I'm pretty sure I know who is getting what, but in any case, these are neat little presents and were not all that expensive. I thought I might shop some more. Maybe see what shops were at Twenty-Six Doors which is nearby. But that was about my shopping limit for one day.

I drove to the Lamar Post Office. At the drive-up boxes the 'stamped mail' box, due to be picked up soon, was so full I couldn't get my twenty-five or so cards in it. In fact, other people's mail threatened to fall out when I tried. I went inside and poked my cards through the slot.

Now, the question was...should I shop some more? No. I'd reached my limit. I went home and talked to FFP between his events. He wanted to buy a new sports coat for his Christmas present. (He is easy...he will buy himself something. I just have to nod and smile and listen to him call his favorite clothing store, Capra and Cavelli, and negotiate on something he wants.)

Now the big deal. Should I go alone to a friend's party? Stuart has a thing about decoration and his little house is a showplace of cool decorating ideas. At Christmas, he manages to cram in two trees and lots of decoration into the space and then invite friends in to partake of goodies. Should I go all alone however? FFP is so good at parties, remembering who everyone is and all. I finally went alone. I talked to a friend who is fighting cancer and ate from the buffet and admired the decorations. Someone told me that the way we had added our room on in the back had inspired them to do something similar. Sadly, I didn't remember them being in our house! I am lame. Finally, I left around eight.

When I got home, I had a couple of hours before FFP would be home. I looked at my 'to do' list. One item 'clean up fireplace' had been looming for over a week. We had some marble placed on the hearth to cover some chipped limestone. Since then we'd needed to clean up inside the unused fireplace. There was no significant fire residue. We hadn't had a fire in years and I'd cleaned that up. There was just dust and dirt and stuff. With my week long allergy attack I hadn't wanted to attack it. I changed my clothes, took out the fire grate, cleaned it off, wiped off the old andirons. Then I studied the situation and wondered if some gas logs might be the answer. I got a long match and gingerly lit the gas element. Works. Hmmm. Add to 'to do' list: shop for gas logs. That's the trouble with 'to do' lists. They grow at the bottom while you check things off at the top.

Then I decided to wrap some presents. I'd gotten a few toys for my dad to pass out to kids, a book for my dad, a small gift for my mother-in-law, some silly things for a friend. FFP had gotten audio tapes for his dad (who is nearly blind and listens to tapes several hours a day). I copped out with recycled gift bags where possible, but I actually put paper around a few things. Dad hasn't mentioned gifts for these kids he knows yet, but I'm prepared if he does. Wrapping presents is a ritual that makes you feel like it's a holiday, too, right? Also on my 'to do' list: 'christmas decor.' I need to go out to the storage room and dig around and find something to make the house look like Christmas for when my parental units come over.

But FFP came home. So much for being left to my own devices. I sat down to read and watch TV.

Embracing the Season

We all do Christmas (or Hanukkah or the 'season') in our own way.

Three years ago, one of the vendors at Uncommon Objects reenvisioned a green formal as Christmas tree. It still makes me laugh.

I never do a tree any more. But I've been know to decorate with hundreds of bendable, posable Santas and reindeer and snowmen and such.

You will currently find lights outside our house. Including a large wreath on the chimney with a pink flamingo and wire flamingo 'reindeer' pulling a sleigh. It isn't opulent, but it has a certain esprit!

We've been making the rounds of homes where they do things right, however. A historic house made bright with the traditional tree and such, a modern home with clever mini-trees, hearths done up, large glass bowls of lighted ornaments.

Last night was what was billed as a casual shindig in an opulent nouveau riche castle of sorts, made more magnificent by decorating every available space for the holiday.

I observed to FFP that I would just soak in their decorations and avoid putting up any of my own.

While I was standing in line for some of the host's whiskey, someone from the top of Austin's social ladder, commented on my holiday card. [Ed. It has odd pictures from Paris on it.] "We usually leave after Thanksgiving for London and Paris, but this year we had something to do and couldn't do that."

I was wearing my red sweater that I only trot out for the holiday and a black leather coat. One woman said she hadn't read the invitation about it being Christmas Casual until she was leaving the house. She had on amazing red shoes and a nice dress. I heard one woman comment that the hostess was pretty dressed up. "I wonder what she'd wear for 'formal'," someone observed. I think her outfit involved fur somehow. I don't notice these things so much. Yeah, I think her top had a fur collar. I did see someone show up in a floor length fur, too.

Margaret Wright (she's locally well-known) played Christmas music on an opulent piano with carvings and inlays while people were mostly engrossed in their own conversations. Jeffrey's catered. (Ditto on the locally well-known.) They were passing around bites of seared tuna this, venision that, mushroom thing and their famous oysters on yucca chips. There was a display of iced cookies that were too beautiful to eat. (Although I did eat two perfect candy cane shapes with perfect red and white stripes. Sugar cookies and Jack Daniels. Yeah.)

There was a basket when you came in for people to drop in checks for the Helping Hand Home for Children. I hope the kids got some money for a toy to make their Christmas bright. I'm sure the hosts will make sure of that. Several people wondered where they stored all the stuff when it wasn't Christmas. I bet they have a holiday storage room somewhere. You never see anything but the entertainment areas of these homes. Not that more room was needed for the crowd since that area had five fireplaces, room for two trees, etc.

Thanks Santa!

Dear. Mr. Claus,

Don't bother stopping by with anything the night of the 24th. I have the things I really wanted. I thank you for the coffee machine (I've already made over 200 cups) and FFP is happy with his new car especially the sound system. Since he drives me around a lot we will both enjoy it. I am pleased that my new great niece and great nephew are healthy. They won't know what's up this year, but put them on the list for next. If you could swing by and give my older great nephews some Game Boy stuff that would be fine.

And do stop by and give my good friend DL something to cheer her on. You'll find her at M.D. Anderson over in Houston most days.

It seems my list gets shorter and shorter every year. Except my 'to do' list, of course. You could help me by fixing it so that when I check something off at the top something doesn't add itself at the bottom. Then I could get some free time to snuggle under a lap robe and read a book on a cold day like today. Yeah, if you have free time to give out, send that my way.

Best, LB

A Perfect Day

Like many journal (diary, blog, whatever) writers, I use the medium for a little self-analysis. Back when I worked and during the years when I was seeking the life that suited me (instead of settling for the pretty darn good life I had), I would write down what would constitute a 'perfect day.'

This day almost always involved exercising and eating and drinking with friends and something creative. You know like taking a picture of yourself reflected in a shop window. I'm easily entertained really. A little reading, a little writing, a glass of wine.

Right after I retired I wrote about a day that was a good imitation of my fantasy. And then another one came along that was pretty well up there.

Today was not like that. I did get to play tennis. I went shopping briefly. But FFP was having a little problem with his ten-year-old car and so I had to go pick him up to try to get that fixed. Which they did. Meanwhile, however, we'd convinced ourselves that buying a new Accord was reasonable and the new car people had found one that met our specs. There is something I really hate about buying cars. This couldn't have been easier. We discovered an old and dear friend working in sales at our dealer and we let them make a lot of money so there wasn't a lot of haggling and the hardest part was cleaning out all the change, flashlights, books, magazines and other detritus that had collected in the old car. I just hate cars and car buying really. So today wasn't ideal, but it was far from bad. And those other days...they were great and I even wrote about them so I can remember why.

Holiday Cards

Well...I tried to blog here earlier about holiday cards. This picture is a part of my card for this year. Blogger Beta was coughing up at swallowing a picture, though, so I actually created a post in my own space.

This is a portrait of us from Paris. It is a reflection of an art gallery window in Paris. I included it on my holiday card precisely because it's so esoteric. We look better the vaguer and fuzzier our images are. I included another photo that shows FFP more clearly in the holiday card.

The Holidailies writing prompt centers around St. Nicholas' Day. I thought I'd leave belief systems (even one we drop after childhood) to other writers. I thought I'd just write about the tradition of exchanging snail mail every year and how I really like that idea. But, like I said, read more in my own WEB space if you like.

A Guide to Avoiding the Mall

Surely that person on your list needs a cowboy hat, a bowling pin or a secondhand thermos. Yeah...you can skip the mall and go to the flea market to finish off your list. (This one is held on Burnet Road some Sundays.)

Seriously, malls scare me. The big retailers organize so that once you get inside you can't find a path that leads either out of the mall or into the mall's interior. Once FFP and I were shopping (for linens if you must know) and we ask another couple how to get out of the store and they said they'd been trying for ten minutes to do it. An employee, when asked, looked like we had ask how to sign up to fly to the moon. We did escape, of course, because I'm here today blogging. But I'm not sure how.

I will finish this Christmas season, I hope, with no trips to the mall. Unless you count when we went to the AMC Barton Creek to see The Departed. The movies are right inside a door to the mall. Still we parked a long way off and even though I took note of the aisle marker when we were going in, there seemed to be no such sign when we came out. There was probably a hiked-up pickup or an SUV parked in front of it. We found our car, however. I had a companion. I never go to the mall without a companion to help lose the car. It helps to have someone to bitch about it with.

Nope...I stuck to shopping at places like Costco, Sam's, Container Store, World Market, Crate and Barrel, Target. You gotta remember where you park but you can find your way out. Actually, you can do a lot of shopping in smaller places. I shopped this year at independent toy stores and at a gift shop on South Congress called Monkey See/Monkey Do (I think). Also at Tesoros Trading, famous because they may lose their iconic location to a hotel. You might pay a little more, but there is some satisfaction in buying toys at Toy Joy or Over the Rainbow. While I scored my rubber chicken and egg at Terra Toys (no longer on SoCo but on Anderson Lane), that joint has gotten a little too chaotic for me. You can always shop on South Congress where, if you don't find what you want among the gift shops available on the dominant (west) side of the street, you can brave the crossing and go to Ten Thousand Villages where they sell things people make in areas where selling you some geegaws can be an important business. And when you are tired of looking, you can go to Guero's or El Sol y Luna or sit at the bar in South Congress Cafe or Vespaio or Enoteca and eat snacks and start the inveitable drinking.

I did shop online, too. For Game Boy Advance SP boxes and games for them. Shopping in a store for this wouldn't be an option. Because I was confused online and had to get the parents of the recepients to put the stuff in a wish list and let me pluck it out of there!

The mall? I don't think so. Unless, you know, to see another movie.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

In 2004, I decided to give a Christmas party. It was going to be 'have a few friends in for a drink' but it grew. And grew. About fifty people came. I always try to anticipate everything when entertaining. If I'm not mistaken I had a DVD of a fireplace on the TV. I had wine, beer, soft drinks, water, coffee with whipped cream, liqueur. Lots of food.

FFP has a good selection of Christmas music but I got a wild hair and went on Rhapsody and bought a CD entirely of different artists singing "Have Yourself a Merry Christmas." From country to blues to jazz to rock. Covering the ground from Travis Tritt to Chicago to Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett and Ella. I slipped this in the player with FFP's selections. During the party it seemed to shuffle over to this CD improbably frequently. And every time it did, in spite of the wildly different styles and interpretations, it drove FFP crazy. We finally popped it out and put another disk in.

Imagine my surprise then to climb into his car in July and hear this CD on rotation in his car.

"I like it," he said. Maybe it made him feel cooler in the sweltering July in Austin. Maybe he'd come to appreciate listening to the style differences. He loves to cut CDs with a lot of artists doing the same song.

Now he thinks we should make a disk of "Christmas Song." You know the one that begins "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...." I don't believe we have chestnut trees in Texas so that was always pretty nonsensical to me until 1972 when I was on my hippie tramp around Europe and discovered chestnuts being sold on the street by vendors with charcoal braziers. I love them, by the way.

So...how did I get off on that? Well, the writing prompt at Holidailies was "Holiday music: essential part of the season, or 'no way, it makes my ears bleed'?" I think my conclustion is that I like the music part. It has a certain purity. But I prefer something beyond the straight up interpretations. But NO CHIPMUNKS! And every fifty tracks or so throw in Robert Earl Keen's "Merry Christmas from the Family." Just to remind us of the basic insanity we've introduced into the holiday.

About today's Christmas photo: This shop window is from a new boutique in Rosedale Village on Burnet Road. I haven't been inside because I suspect they specialize in sizes 0-4.

LB's Christmas Shopping Guide

Gift-buying and gift-getting are as ethereal as this picture, a reflection of the Top Drawer thrift store window on Burnet Road.

Christmas. When I was a kid I was all about shaking packages and sneaking looks. I was excited and I wanted to know what I was going to get. Gifts have always disappointed me a little when the wrapping was off, however. But at least there were lots of things I wanted back then.

Now that I'm at a place where I really want almost nothing, however, things are easier. I express my thanks and move on. I can barely come up with a list of what I might want for Christmas, but it would go something like this: (1) new tennis shoes; (2) a bathing suit; (3) a black cashmere V-neck sweater; (4) money to put my 8MM/Super 8 movies on DVD. No one could get me these things. I'd need to get them myself. Now I could go online and shop for all of this right now, but the reason I haven't done so is simply that shopping is such a pain. So, but for that, I'd have everything I want or need, I think. Oh, sure, I have my eye on computing gear and a new digital camera. But I'm just not ready to buy.

Buying things for other people is fun and I hate to give up doing it but I wish I could avoid the agony of trying to buy things that will thrill people. After all, most people I'd be buying for have everything they need and most of what they want. And, yes, there are charities out there and yes we contribute but that's different. There are people who need clothes and furniture and food. There are homes where the kids don't have every conceivable toy. For that you don't need LB's Christmas Shopping Guide because those people usually give a pretty detailed shopping list. It's just a matter of locating what they need or want.

So I take the low road and send money a lot of the time.

But there are a few family members and a couple of friends that I feel should get a real present. For the extended family I print a simple no frills month-by-month calendar with the holidays plus family birthdays and anniversaries. My aunts appreciate this, the cousins perhaps less so (I offer the info online,too). I don't know how many realize it is their 'gift' and not just something they get every year.

For my sister and her clan in Colorado I feel they should get something tangible. I provide money occasionally, but I feel I should buy things, too. A few years ago I decided that I'd just buy small, fun, sometimes silly things and mail them in a little santa sack for each person. Sort of like stocking stuffers. My oldest niece mailed the sacks back with their handmade tags intact. So they've gone back and forth a couple of years now. I felt I should fill them again. I can't remember all the things I sent before. So that was a problem. But I filled them. That's done. I entrusted them to UPS to deliver to my oldest niece to distribute.

My favorite little things that I sent this year? Little 512MB USB flash drives with password software. A small rubber chicken and egg. (When you squeeze it, a translucent egg with yolk pops out.) A stretchy rubber ape. For the kids (yeah, I gave those last two things to adults), I liked the combo whistle, compass, thermometer, magnifying glass things I got at REI. Also the medium-sized (three AAA batteries) LED flashlights. (I'm big on giving flashlights. Last year it was those wind-up no battery ones that I gave a few people.) The kids got Pez and Pez dispensers, of course. And little pull back school buses and rubber frogs and stuff. Classics. Like the Swiss Army Knives with corkscrews that I included for my nephews-in-law. (You know the guys who married my nieces.)

Other ideas for stocking stuffers: refrigerator magnets (I found some that had a calculator), note pads (some are magnetic for the frig or have a clip for the visor), pens, luggage tags, LED light keychains, keychains with pill fobs, luggage locks approved for TSA opening, mini bottles of favorite spirits, accessories for eyeglass wearers (I found a no fog glasses wipe and repair kits are handy, too). And you can find funny post-it notes for everyone. Little bars of fancy soap are nice.

Now all I have to do to finish my Christmas shopping is buy something for the old folks. They are 86, 90 and 96 and it's not easy to find stuff although our dads can usually be taken care of with books. On tape only for FFP's Dad because he can't see to read. My mother-in-law is more difficult. Hate to resort to a calendar again. Or pictures of us. Or fancy soap. Gadgets are risky. Although I have considered one of those electronic 'picture frames.' Nah.

There are three friends who should probably get a gift from me. But I'm not going to get something just to be getting. I'm going to try to find something they will really like. Yeah, I say that every year.

Yeah, well maybe the title was misleading. Maybe I'm the last person who should write a shopping guide.

It's Really Just the Smallest Things

I think we look for pleasure in large gulps. People around me are doing it and sometimes me, too. We want the grand trip, the expensive car, the giant flat screen TV (make that in a media room with special theater seats in a 5000-square-foot house). We want all the CDs and DVDs and downloads we will never have time to listen to or watch.

It never satisfies.

Satisfaction is enjoying the way a single photo looks on your blog. (This one is another from the series of shop window reflections.) Or a photo or turn of phrase from someone else's blog or e-mail. A friend of mine wrote me last night:

'By the way I've figured out the "Universe" has granted me parking karma because I'm not going marry, get rich or find a job I love. I guess it could be worse, I could have to park blocks away too.'

That made me laugh. A laugh is a precious little thing.

Satisfaction is seeing a movie (last night: The Departed) and then discussing it over a casual dinner (last night: Galaxy...I had a fish wrap, a single glass of Chardonnay and sweet potato fries).

Satisfaction is finishing some phase of holiday shopping and saying to yourself "OK, that's what those people get. I hope it works out." I finished shopping for my Colorado presents yesterday so I could mail them. I send little Santa sacks that everything has to fit in. Sort of like stocking stuffers. Sadly, I can't remember what I gave last year (or before that) in many cases so there are probably duplicates. Maybe they won't remember either! Or maybe it's something like a pen or notepad that you can always use. With the kids (6 and 4) there is the question of parity among brothers. Through it all and when it's over, though, I realize that it is the thought that counts. Really. See my ramblngs of a few days ago.

Satisfaction is working out in the gym for months and years and thinking nothing is happening and then flexing and feeling a muscle or going up some stairs and noticing you are not out of breath.

Satisfaction is having the time to rewatch a favorite movie or listen to a song for the umpeenth time.

Satisfaction is having the time to read and then finding a word you are unsure of and looking it up in the dictionary.

Satisfaction is taking the time to write something. Even a blog. Even using a writing prompt. Even if you suggested the prompt!

A Guide to the Visible Woman

Visible? Not so much. That's the main conundrum of my life. I like to be out there in cyberspace telling the details of every minute of every day. And yet. I like to be enigmatic and private and surprising.

Perhaps that's why you find so many photos with shop windows and just the vaguest reflection of yours truly.

The picture was taken yesterday on South Congress in Austin, Texas and the armadillo tea party is a creation of the folks at Uncommon Objects. The day was cold for us with a bitter wind.

I used to obsessively post all the publicity palatable events of my life. One can review some of this at the old, non-blogger site. At some points I was recording every morsel of food and rep of bicep curls. That got old. I had all these rules for posting from time to time. Essays every time, quote every day, picture every day. All these things were just ways to get something out each and every twenty-four hours.

I've lightened up. I use this blogging tool so I don't even have to date things. I ramble on and while I always insert a picture it may be largely irrelevant.

Usually when I post, I don't imagine anyone at all reading. And I'm usually not far from wrong. However, Holidailies, might drive some readers this direction. And, if so, welcome. These ramblings usually emanate from Austin, the Capital City of Texas. And I plan to spend the holidays here. So if you are interested in all things Central Texas, maybe you will find something here to please. Perhaps in a shop window with a nebulous reflection of your tour guide.

The Economics of Stuff

A couple of years ago I read this great article. I wish I could cite it properly or even, were it possible, hyperlink you to it. I looked in one folder where the original article might have been but it wasn't.

Anyway. I'm stealing this from something I read a while back somewhere. Could be The New York Times or The Wall Street Journal. Or not.

I found an article that I think references the article in question

The gist of this stolen material was that when we buy something there is an immediate loss of value. That proverb about the new car that is worth thousands of dollars less when you drive it off the lot. Yeah, that idea. But these guys had extended the idea to gifts and, the theory was, that a gift you buy is worth even less to the person who receives it than it would have been had he bought it for himself.

I can't help thinking of this every time the gift-giving season rolls around. I plunk down money for something and I feel this decline in value. It's sad. There must be a way to put a positive spin on it but I haven't found it.

I've been thinking about presents and buying some things. Bummer. Economic disaster.

The picture was taken Sunday at a flea market on Burnet Road. And, yeah, I know, sometimes stuff gets more valuable over time. That's just not the point, though.

Well, a little more digging has turned up an article in The Economist from December 2001 and I think it is the very one that triggers my thinking. And yet...if you click the link, this article ends up being upbeat. How could I have missed that? The thought may actually count. Even economically speaking.

Should I Practice or Save It?

I love daily bloggers. You can count on them to give you a little lift with their writing. Hardly the day passes that I don't check for updates from The Journal of a Writing Man and I'm rarely disappointed. I do frequent checks on Rob but he doesn't update every single day. So I'm not always rewarded.

Well, I signed up for Holidailies along with 150 or more other people and I'll be committed to writing from December 1 to January 1.

One question is should I waste words and pictures prior to the start of the daily rat race? Should I limber up now or should I be saving it?

Another question is what I should write about each day. Should I just tell what I did that day? You know: went to the gym, allegedly burned three hundred calories, ate nachos, drank beer, watched The Simpsons. Or should I have little daily rants with themes? Themes that could be generated from the day's events or come from nowhere. Or should I have an overall theme for the entire period? I actually thought of doing that...the overall theme thing. I thought of blogging about my neighborhood for the entire time.

The picture is from the South American coffee shop in our neighborhood: Pacha's on Burnet Road. I snapped it midway through a coffee and eggplant empanada on Sunday when FFP and I took the dog for a Burnet Road walk.

Hmmm...so what will it be? So many questions of so little importance! Also, I'm thinking maybe I should do this daily ranting, er, writing in my own space instead of here?

The Turkey Dies for Us

Cranberry this and that, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, green salad, spinach casserole, relishes, dressings, rolls, corn, squash casserole, pie, wine. Need I go on? There was probably more. One forgets. And the two turkeys, of course.

My cousin Bob operates on a smoked turkey in this photo.

We watched football. We tried to put together a jigsaw puzzle.

Yeah, that's Thanksgiving in our family.

Lots of family. No little kids though. This branch of my family is at this point where the generation younger than mine is grown but without children so far. That will probably change in a few years.

Holidailies

Anybody out there hungry for The Visible Woman postings? Anyone thinking "Gee, my December isn't busy enough...what I need to be able to do is see a few words from LB every single day from December 1 to January 1"? Yeah, that's what I thought. Still I signed up to do it. I'll be posting here on this blogging site at least once a day and registering one a day with Holidailies. I'll have lots of company. (There were 82 others signed up last I looked to participate fully and twelve pledging to update but without registering the entries.)

And speaking of hungry...is anybody up for turkey and pie and stuff? I'm with some family and I've already had a piece of pumpkin pie in honor of the season.

The holidays are officially here. On Lover's Lane in Dallas tonight I saw lighted Christmas displays. Why am I sort of ready for them to be over?

E.A.S.T.ern Art

The graffiti in this picture apparently refers to the latest show at AMOA (Austin Museum of Art) but I took it on the sidewalk at one of the 86 official locations in this year's East Austin Studio Tour in Austin. It was a lovely day and we started our eastwardly adventures by eating at the Eastside Cafe. Then we took in a few of the more northernly studios (including Karen Maness) and then a few of the more furthest south (including Art Amici where Jennifer Balkan was showing).

It was a glorious day starting cool and sunny and warming up to the point where the sunny spots felt warm and the shade felt cool.

This afternoon I saw the premiere of young Jake Sawyer's short film Downloader. A pretty ambitious undertaking from a teenager, this film showed a very adult sensibility and communicated obsessive compulsive behavior, office politics, office romance, paranoia and our Internet/drug/technology culture in a way you wouldn't really think a young kid would understand. Plus it had cops and stunts and lots more. John Merriman starred and was fabulous and funny and convincing from the beginning to the end. Young Jake directed a lot of adults in this short and did it well.

It's an artsy town, Austin. Radical NY indeed.

Where Does My Time Go?

Well, I drink a lot of coffee. It's time-consuming: the making, sipping, savoring and, if you make it at home, the cleaning. Yesterday we received our new Jura-Capresso E8 via UPS. I would tell you that it is a time-saver since it delivers each cup of coffee at the push of a button. (You have to add water, beans and do the occasional clean-out job, though.) But I'm not sure that's true. We shipped our mal-functioning, recalled (for potential electrical fire) and over six-year-old CA1000 back to the manufacturer (see this ancient journal entry for more on that device) and received this new one for a heavily discounted price. We are pleased. We spent a half hour setting it up before we watched Office last night.

That's the kind of thing I spend my time on. I am so lucky that I'm not dodging bullets and bombs in Iraq, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Pakistan or one of the many other spots on the earth where that is the norm. So that I can spend time drinking coffee. I'm so lucky I have power to power the Capresso, not to mention being able to own the machine itself.

I also spend time at my country club. I've noticed whole half days get consumed this way. Yesterday I went over there at 8:30. I played two sets of singles, rode an exercise bike and lifted a few weights, took a shower and met with the club manager to go over board business while eating a delicious salad. Today I went over at 8:30 and climbed into the deep end of the pool with my dad and a bunch of ladies for water aerobics. Then I worked out in the gym. It was about eleven by the time I got home, rinsed out my suit. It was noon before I'd had a small lunch. And I still haven't showered.

I am very lucky. I retired and my days are pretty much what I dreamed they would be. Except I haven't carved out time for my novel or the technical project I have in mind. My technical skills are so lame and rusty that the patent granted this week with my name on it confuses me about as much as technical stuff I had nothing to do with. But so it goes. I get to spend half of many days exercising or playing games or eating out. Or drinking coffee. And not writing and not inventing and certainly not working for the man.

And, yes, of course, I spend a bit of time managing my money. Which requires more management now that I must make it make a living for me. But life is good. It really is. Even if I don't seem to accomplish great things. A lucky, caffeinated interlude should be appreciated all on its own.

Winnowing the Stuff

Part of our on again/off again downsizing is that we are sorting through the books. I'm tentatively identifying books that get to stay, not just avoid the thrift store box now, but maybe go to the ultimate condo location. I make sure these books are in my Access database and I've also started cataloging them on Library Thing, a site I found that is very helpful in finding the book info and also finding interesting things about books and people who own them.

Some of these books are now on a shelf in my office, nestled next to a cheap globe someone gave me as a gift a few years ago. Hence today's picture. The cheap globe is more accurate than a lot of the ones in my collection of old globes. But it is pre-1989, I guess, since it shows East and West Germany. I'm thinking, by the way, that maybe the globe collection can go to the new, small digs. Some decorative things have to survive. I'm less sure what to do with the four pocket world atlases I found. One is leatherbound and embossed with my name. Pretty up-to-date, too. One Germany. However, not perfect. It's pre-1997 and shows Zaire. Another has the same flaw but some compelling colorful maps. One is so old that it still has Rhodesia and Burma and has The Congo (sometimes wrong things become right again). It shows its age in other ways, too. A cover price of $1.50 and a copyright in Roman Numerals. (MCMLXX). The fourth mini-atlas was revised in '93 and has very readable maps and a nice binding. All four appeal in certain ways. And let's not even begin to discuss the giant 1970's atlas and the collection of maps and guidebooks. But we are making progress. A steady progression of paperback novels and other books are actually leaving the house. I feel for the first time that I'm getting rid of more things on average than I'm acquiring. Really. Honest. Books have been ebbing and flowing about the house in odd ways as himself and I queue some for discarding, move them from the other's pile to the discard boxes and, occasionally, rescue one for further consideration. A pile of literary magazines has taken over a chair in my office for possible donation to Badgerdog Literary Publishing. Of course, these old copies of Story and Paris Review are calling out to me. They are saying "Don't you want to read me before discarding??" I'm not answering, though.

Acquiring stuff is a strange process and discarding it is fraught with all kinds of emotion.

Chilly

It's not cold out. A little chilly maybe. I tossed on a sweatshirt this morning. I didn't wear it to play tennis but put it on again to go home and to go out for burgers. I had on shorts, of course. I got an old black stretched-out cashmere and silk sweater out to wear tonight. It's not realy cold, though.

The picture was taken on South Congress the other night.

Halloween was a bust around here. Some grandparents brought some little kids by and a guy from up the street brought a cute little duck, but otherwise we had these kids who were really too old and not even trying with the costumes. They almost all had pillowcases they were trying to fill with candy.

Meanwhile, the contractors tried to finish off the concrete they'd poured in the dark, illuminated by truck and Bobcat headlights. They tried to keep people off of it and seem to have succeeded. But it was eight-thirty or nine before they'd put up their temporary fence around the wet stuff. We could just see ghoul footprints. But no.

Today, I really had an amazing retiree's day. I hung around the gym at the club and read and drank coffee and worked out a bit. Then I played tennis. I got trounced but it was fun. FFP and I went to Billy's on Burnet for burgers. (Only we had vegetarian sandwiches.) I spent the afternoon catching up month-end finances, taking a leisurely shower, reading yesterday's newspapers and watching 24 Hours on Craigslist off the DVR.

Tonight I have a board meeting at my club. It will be tedious, but I'll have a beer and eat off the Mexican buffet, so how bad is that?

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.

eXtreme dog walking and urban adventuring

I used to do a lot of eXtreme dog walking and urban adventuring. These are sports my friend SuRu and I invented. eXtreme dw involves two people, two dogs, those long (fifteen feet or so) reel leashes and the occasional cat or squirrel. Urban adventuring is the same setup with another person added to garner 'take ones' from houses for sale and hold things while pictures are taken.

Weather (too much heat and some serious rain) and circumstances have reduced the sport to the point that you'd be more likely to catch curling on TV. But yesterday was cool and sunny and the entire team set off when SuRu and Zoey, the black standard poodle, arrived from her new rental across the creek. This makes the third abode in our neighborhood that she's occupied. When she was on Woodview, we'd walk over to her place before the trek; when she lived on Ramsey we'd meet in the middle (somewhere near the now somewhat bland scary house); now it makes sense for her to walk here because in her direction the coffee shop choice is Russell's. And Russell's requires climbing the 'big hill' across Mopac and Russell's has no outside seating for dog owners.

Oh, did I mention coffee and snacks? Definitely a part of the eX dw and ua culture. We chose Upper Crust today. Outside tables? Check. Good snacks? Yes, a Petit Pan au Chocolat bigger than your head (well, maybe a little dog's head). Don't ever eat a cinnamon roll there, however. Gut bombs. Same cinnamon rolls show up at coffee shops around town that aren't also bakeries. Danger. Danger. Eat cinnamon rolls at Sweetish Hill. (Yes, sometimes the eX dw team drives to other neighborhoods and thus has other coffee shop choices.) However, almost everything else at UC is great. SuRu had a not too sweet cookie and FFP a scone. I filled my coffee mug before we left home and again at Upper Crust. Coffee is eX dw fuel.

So it isn't much of a walk from the house to Upper Crust. We went to Ramsey Park after and even south of there. We came back up Ramsey to see if the rental where SuRu lived was rented. No. Good enough for them. It's overpriced.

Along the way, on 40th St. I think, we saw a bush we couldn't identify with bees and butterflies all over it. It was fragrant. Because we had the extra hands for holding a squirmy dog, I took a picture. That is an advantage of urban adventuring, adding that extra person. True the two dogs and two people connected by the long reels of leash make most of the possible 'moves' of eX dw a reality. But there are extra points for capturing pictures like this.

I'm glad the weather has cooperated with my sports. Tennis is nice on a cool, sunny day, too. And I've been getting out there for a bit of that. Tennis is a bit more well-known, too. But I expect eX dw and ua to come into their own. Right now we are the premier team, however.

Hot Stuff

The Texas Book Festival is this weekend. FFP volunteered with Badgerdog Publications yesterday but all I did was go with him to an evening event on South Congress (at a little room above the Continental Club) where Mark Binelli did a reading from Sacco and Vanzetti Must Die! and then they had a panel discussion with Mark Z. Danielewski, Heidi Julavits and Cristina Henriquez. I hadn't heard any of these authors but they'd all written about teens so they hung them on a Lolita theme but really the discussion was all over the place. Mark has written some very difficult books which apparently have a cultish following (I never noticed that difficult contains 'cult' before but there you go). It was all a lot of fun. The only author I'd heard of was one who didn't show up (Marisha Pessl who wrote Special Topics in Calamity Physics). I really enjoyed the discussion even though it was really crowded and I had to sit on the floor. I took the photo of the window at Blackmail on the way back to our car. The reading and the discussion made me want to read all these people's books, but of course I'm still behind on my newspapers and busy sorting the rather large collection of books we already have.

Let Others Blog!

I'm not taking pictures . I randomly selected a picture of a stranger taken in Berlin a few years back to illustrate this entry. The woman looks lost. I feel lost, too.

The downsizing is going slowly. It is fraught with emotions.

We are cooling on the condo project we were considering for a couple of reasons.

I injured my left foot slightly in a bizarre accident. I can walk and even (I hope) play tennis, but it hurts if I roll it over to the outside.

Life is full of reminders that things don't always work out. People I know are struggling with illnesses, big and small.

I'll get better emotionally. Or worse. These things aren't static. Some days the things that make you think "life is full and wonderful" when your brain chemistry is different make you think "life is a mess and fraught with confusion and chaos and pain leading to the inevitable."

But for now, I'm letting others blog. Except for this entry. Consider it a response to a ping...yes, I'm still here.

There's More Where That Came From

In the great downsizing of 2006, I keep telling myself that it's OK to let go. There is more stuff where this stuff came from. Maybe even better stuff.

Our spare room has been a staging area for the current wave of downsizing. It's been employed for stuff sorting for more time than it's been used for guests for sure. We have a table divided in half. I put books on one side that I am willing to get rid of. FFP puts books he feels similarly about on the other side. We come by and consign books from the other person's half to a box on the floor and from there they are sacked up for disposal. I think he has, of late, become lazy about filling his side. Instead he's just approved ones I'd identified. Oh, I think he returned a few to the groaning shelves. But many are now in sacks and boxes ready for the thrift store nearby, Top Drawer. He's already taken quite a few before, too.

The picture was taken a couple of years ago in the spare room during my cleaning out of other areas and of my mother's things. Four years after her death we are still disposing of her things. She had a lot of stuff from her hobbies and collecting. If she hadn't been poor for many years, I guess she'd have had more. I'm hoping not to leave a legacy of stuff. But it's hard. "A little bit every day," says himself. That's it.

Wandering through the books has been fun, though. It's like digging through a secondhand bookstore that is a treasure trove of books we would like. A goodly pile has accumulated in my office to become part of the 'Magnificent 1000.' Yes, we plan to own at least 1000 books when we die. So there. Where we will put them in a small condo is another matter. And whether we will ever read (or read again) any significant part of them is questionable. Consider them decoration, I guess. I love to see books in a home. Homes without them seem sad and naked.

I Don't Read Enough

I have probably read seventy books since I retired. But it's been four years. I don't feel like I read enough.

Going through our books in order to downsize from about 3000 tomes to 1000 or less has made me realize that there are scores of books I want to read or reread that I already own. There are quite a few I would never care to read or have read and wouldn't revisit. These would only be useful in some situation (unimaginable in any home of mine) where there was a shortage of words.

Yeah, I just don't feel like I read enough.

I struggle to get through some of the three dailies and two weekly newpapers we receive. My piles of aging papers are legendary. I walked into my club the other day empty-handed and someone ask why I wasn't carrying a pile of New York Times. Yesterday I had a pile of sections of old copies of The Wall Street Journal, The Times and the local rag, The Austin-American Statesman at the gym. I had only managed to get through part of a front page section of The Times on the bike and I put the unruly pile down next to a leg extension machine and tried to do some leg extensions. I have a sort of strained knee and the exercise hurt so I moved about four feet away to do some pulldowns for the triceps. A man I didn't know walked up to my pile of newspapers. In spite of me staring at him as he spent several minutes staring down at them and then got on one knee and riffled through them, he never turned around and ask if they belonged to me. He seemed intent, almost prayerful, over the papers so I moved over to a bench and got a barbell and did some skull crushers. (Also for the triceps.) I figured he'd go on his way and I wouldn' t have to claim ownership of the mass of old papers. Amid my reps on the bench, I saw him head to the locker room...clutching two or three sections of papers he'd apparently carefully chosen. I finished my set. I gathered up the remainder of the pile and was headed out the door when I saw my fellow reader return to the workout room sans newspapers. Not that I wanted them back! But those are some sections of newsprint unread by me.

I admit that everything I don't manage to read, or at least glance through taunts me. The weekly arrival of The New Yorker, while welcome with its clever cover and promise of wonderful articles inside, mocks me because I may not, most likely will not, get it read. I'm now in possession of DVDs of all issues of The New Yorker through last February. Yes, all issues since 1925. This comforts me and allows me to finally throw out some issues that have escaped recycling for over a decade but still there is little comfort in knowing that I have access to the material.

This feeling of despair at what's left unread is not satisfied by reading things online either. I'll sometimes read an entire article from The New York Times WEB page and my subscription to the paper gives me a 'free' Times Select membership and access to lots of back issue stories, but this doesn't make my failure to absorb the papers any easier to bear.

As I've sorted out books to give away, I've tried to tell myself that if I decide one day to read the book I'm tossing that I can always get a copy from Powell's or the library. And maybe I'll obtain a better copy to read than some of the grimy, yellowing paperbacks that I'm putting into the thrift store sacks. At some point I have to seriously examine why I need to own all these books.

I took two sacks of Bridge books to a friend who plays a lot of Bridge and enjoys reading about it. She promised to loan them back to me if I got interested in Bridge again. And I am sort of interested in Bridge. It's just that I never got interested enough. To play or to read all the books. But it used to be that the first thing I'd do if I got the least bit interested in something would be to buy a book about it. Or maybe more than one book! Maybe piles of books. That's what happened with Bridge.

I'm starting to understand that owning all these books is not improving my track record at getting my reading done. I've got to choose the books I keep with care. This may be my hardest downsizing task and not just because there are 3000 objects to deal with. Each unread tome is an admission of failure.

Daily Photo

I've been reading Paris Daily Photo for a while and while this site isn't daily and isn't always Austin so it can't be Austin Daily Photo, I appreciate the idea.

Eric of PDP published this entry and I immediately thought of a picture I had FFP shoot at MOMA in New York City in the summer of 2005. So here it is. I think it's pretty clear who is real and who is not in this one. Maybe.

I had in mind to blog today on two other topics. I fully intend to write one entitled "I Don't Read Enough" and another under the rubric "This Aquisitive Life." Instead I've published this (over a year old) photo.

And so it goes.

In the Shadow of the Creatives

I fancy myself a creative person.

In fact, when I took these pictures (over a year ago) I thought I was showing on the one hand the most blighted view of downtown Austin and on the other a bright thing about Austin (the Art Fest held in Republic Square and the surrounding area) against the blighted shell of the abandoned INTEL building.

Who knew that in October, 2006 I would (1) be planning to live about where the Moonlight Tower appears in the blight picture. (The Tower has been relocated to make way for the 360 Condomiums. It was the only unblighted part of the picture.) (2) The ugly Post Office block would be getting a redevelopment plan as a mixed use space; and (3) That on October 6 I would see a fantastic work of dance performed by Blue Lapis Light in and on that blighted shell?

I had lunch yesterday with a smart, energetic, starving artist. Only 22, he is wise beyond his years, creative to the max, introspective and perceptive. He's not really starving either thanks to a friend of mine who is his mom.

Last night I saw the most amazing work of dance and rappeling to music in the most unusal setting of that Intel shell. Almost more amazing than the work was that someone let the performers and us on the site. We drank and talked to Cliff Redd (executive director of the Long Center) and Stephen Moser (fashion editor of The Austin Chronicle and the designer of several of the blue-themed dressed on display) and other folks. Then we saw the performance that blew us away.

I felt overshadowed by the energy and creativity exhibited around me today. I am amazed at Austin's transformation downtown. I feel old against this backdrop of energy.

I came home to listen to our gubanatorial debate. I gleaned from this that Chris Bell would raise money by having businesses 'pay their fair share' whatever that means and that Kinky would do it with gambling and that Strayhorn and Perry wouldn't raise taxes but they would do good things for schools without the money. I also learned that Strayhorn didn't answer a single question directly and didn't know the president of Mexico. Kinky was most creative. Asked if he would continue to smoke cigars if he were governor and a 'role model he said he would and said Sam Houston was an opium addict and, he guessed, not a good role model for kids. (A little Internet search also hinted that he had venereal disease. Not Kinky. Sam Houston.) It was a creative day and the creative candidate won my vote, I think. It is a sad lot. They didn't let the Libertarian participate. Sad. I would have liked to hear what he had say. He is suing Belo Corp, I think, because his exclusion constitutes promoting the other four candidates. Well, maybe. They all came out looking sort of bad to me. Except, you know, Kinky when he was being funny which is almost all the time.

Growing Old

These guys were caught by a street photographer. It's probably sometime in the 30's. On the left is my father-in-law and on the right is his 'baby' brother. The baby brother would become one of the 'Greatest Generation,' cheerfully fighting in Italy, France and Germany with the 36th Infantry Division, called into active service from the Texas National Guard. He would return unharmed and live a long life.

We took my husband's Dad (the smaller 'big' brother here) to his brother's funeral today in Temple. My father-in-law is 95. His baby brother was 91.

As my mother-in-law recounted the births, deaths and marriages of the clan she entered sixty-eight years ago, she said at one point: "And, well, she died. And he died."

Yeah, that's how it always ends.

The trip was exhausting. My in-laws have grown old and a longish ceremony that started late (after we arrived way early) and another ceremony at the cemetery and finding food and bathrooms on the way home was a production. But once my father-in-law and his brother sauntered jauntily down Congress Avenue before the big war, before they married and had kids. Maybe the depression was oppressive but they still found the funds for some good-looking threads. And my husband's uncle smiled just like that from his bed at the nursing home when last I saw him, correctly identifying me as belonging to the right branch of the clan in spite of the fact that he must have a dozen nephews with wives and girlfriends. In fact, at the service they recruited six nephews on the spot for pallbearers and another nephew conducted the service and another gave the eulogy. Several other nephews sat in the crowd.

I have read that about a thousand WWII vets die each day. I lost my own 92-year-old uncle recently. He lived in the same nursing home (for Texas Vets) as my husband's uncle. Outside many rooms there handsome young hopeful faces in military uniforms stare out of frames below the names in the corridor while, inside the rooms, old men (and women) grow older and weaker.

And, well, that's how it ends.

Top Ten Reasons for Moving to Downtown Austin

10. What a cool name for a hot dog wagon! (See picture.)

9. The mussels at Capitol Brasserie.

8. Mercury Design Studio.

7. Walking to Whole Foods Planet. (My name for the downtown Whole Foods because of the signs that say 'Whole Foods/Whole Planet' or something like that.)

6. Walking to Austin Music Hall, the Paramount, the convention center, many restaurants, bars, some museums. Not to mention several coffee shops that don't have 'Bucks' in their name. Like Halcyon. And Little City. And Hideout. And there's Elephant Room with jazz every night and nowadays almost no smoke. Jazz with takeout from Kyoto upstairs and a Guinness on draft. Yum.

5. Walking to Book People. And other shopping besides that cool Mercury place. Home stores, art galleries, Austin Wine Merchant and...

4. The new hip bodega, Royal Blue Grocery, on Third Street in the AMLI.

3. Proximity to City Hall so it's a piece of cake to get in line to speak your mind.

2. Getting on the Hike and Bike trail and walking around Town Lake without driving downtown.

And the top reason for moving to downtown Austin for us?
1. Walking to the new Ballet Austin building at Third and San Antonio. Heck, on a good day and in comfortable shoes we could walk to Long Center or the Opera Building or Palmer Events Center or the Capitol for the Book Festival. But FFP spends a lot of time volunteering on Ballet Austin projects. So being close will be great for him. And if possible, we are going to be really close to their building.

I realize I can walk to lots of stuff from my house. A branch library, three bakeries, restaurants (Billy's Burgers, Blue Star, Jorge's, Fonda San Miguel, Upper Crust, Pacha's, Phoenician, La Victoria, Sampaio, some new sushi place, etc.), thrift stores and, if you are feeling like a long walk...Central Market. And I realize that I often complain that I can't walk to these places because it's too hot or the sidewalks aren't adequate (they are putting sidewalks on Shoal Creek however). But somehow this downtown thing feels right. I guess we'll see. The future is kind of a blur anyway, huh? But imagining life a little different is good.

Airport Trip Seven Complete

About the picture. FFP took it on Second Street in downtown Austin. Maybe now that my '90th Birthday Project' is over I can get out and shoot some pictures.

I delivered my sister to the airport yesterday. She stayed over after my dad's party to visit. She is somewhat disabled (requires a wheelchair to get to the gate although she can walk short distances with her cane) and the only person I could find to help me take her to the airport was...my ninety-year-old dad. I deposited the two of them and her luggage on the curb next to United's curbside where there was no one helping people. "If you have to, just wait here until I park," I said. Then I raced around to short term parking. I couldn't find a place for the van so I used Dad's handicapped tag and got a handicapped place and raced up three flights of stairs to the departure level. [If you were at the airport and saw that, well when Dad and I left I would have had to leave him on the curb again and go for the van if I hadn't been able to park it near the elevator. I never use his tag when I'm just out and about in his van. I don't use the one in my glove box assigned to my father-in-law either unless he's with me. It's illegal. And I wouldn't do it. But I felt I had the right here.]

They had gone inside and there was a wheelchair person arriving. Turns out they were cancelling her direct flight to Denver. Yikes. They were trying to rebook her and finally gave her some paperwork and sent us to Continental. I called my brother-in-law with the info. She was going to have to fly to Houston and then Denver. After more snafus between the airlines she got her luggage checked with Continental. Since she was going to be even later than we'd thought I sprinted down to buy her some candy bars which is what she said would sustain her. . My dad got tired during all this process and had to go sit down. We said our goodbyes to her and the wheelchair attendant took her to the gate.

Dad and I walked out to the curb. I pointed to the elevator bank across the street. "If you can walk that far, the van is right there." He made it. He had told me that he had to get home because he was taking two lady friends to a musical show later. He does pretty well, but he's a little slow and standing a long time or walking a long distance is tough. But he takes care of himself pretty well.

When I retrieved my car from Dad's and went home, the house was empty. FFP was at a board retreat. I couldn't believe it...ten days of visits and the party and all the logistics were over. Time to worry about something new. I checked on my sister's flight. It was delayed. Yikes. What if she missed the flight to Denver? FFP got home and we were watching the football game (UT's, of course, this is Austin) when thunder roared and they suspended the game in a downpour featuring lightning. Fortunately, my sister's plane was already headed to Houston. Maybe her plane out would be delayed and she'd get home just an hour or so late. The rain stopped. I hoped my Dad wasn't out in it. I tracked my sister's progress. Yup, missed the plane. I reached her and my brother-in-law on their cell phones. She did get a later plane. I worried a little but what can you do if someone is in the Houston airport? Or sitting on the tarmac in Houston on a plane delayed by weather? I think she finally landed about midnight.

It's over. All seven trips to the airport. My sister had the roughest airport trip although my niece and her husband were bumped on the way here. At least two other people flew in for the party that I did not have to pick up or take to the airport. Thanks for that. Many drove in and all apparently without incident. Although my Dad's great nephew forgot his dress up clothes. He fit in fine with the Austin vibe in a black T-Shirt and jeans. All the comings and goings, months of invites and RSVPs and changing hotel reservations. Arranging for everything. Trying to keep the hoopla from wearing my dad out while letting him enjoy it.

Now, what should I worry about now?

Well...That's Almost Over!

Living ninety years is well-deserving of a lot of hoopla, celebration, adulation and such. However, that requires a bit of planning and a lot of luck to pull off. Especially to make the ninety-year-old person in question not feel like he's been through the wringer.

Since last Thursday, I've made five round trips to the airport, organized six hotel stays, answered the inevitable last minute calls and e-mails, and overseen a party for 140 people that included music, valet parking, name tags, flowers and some minor decoration, hors d'oeuvres, a bar and a full buffet dinner. I've tried to keep several meet-ups of out-of-town relatives organized while dealing with the fact that two of my AC units in my house decided to fail in different ways. I have two out-of-town guests remaining and two more airport trips to make.

I'm not complaining, but I told Dad that he isn't getting a big party for 95. Maybe for his 100th. So...he has set his sights on living to be 100. Well, there are worse goals.

I Haven't Been Writing

And, honestly, I miss it when I haven't been doing it. Even my 'personal' journal entries have been terse. I am currently in that familiar mode whereby everything is being delayed until something else happens. OK, it does take focus to have a party for 150 people and have a couple of dozen people coming in from out of town. And in the midst of that, I had to shop for a car with my almost-90-year-old father. That'll stop you in your tracks. And then there is the crick in my neck. Yesterday I woke up with a sharp pain in my neck. Tried warming it up (with exercise and heat applied). Tried wine. Tried Advil. Got it rubbed. Got my feet rubbed. Tried cookies. Woke up better off this morning.

Life deals things out. Little things. Big things. Little things that will become big things. Seemingly big things that will be forgotten.

But I did have a good vacation. And enjoyed a visit to this cute little bookstore in Tilamook, OR.

Another excuse I've had is tennis. The U.S. Open has provided way too much TV time. At least I don't care about football.