Think Globally, Eat, Um, From Everywhere

Last night I did NOT eat this. The picture captures an impromptu 'surf and turf' of lobster and lamb that a friend got at Jezebel one night in August. I didn't take my camera last night but we went to 34th Street. I thought of going downtown but 34th Street is closer and, this time of year, people crowd up going to what I call the Trial of Lights. It's actually the 'Trail of Lights.' Maybe they got rained on last night. Serves 'em right. Bad traffic-making is the trial.

Anyway, 34th Street is lovely and closer to the house. I did not have lobster, nor lamb. No. I had the most politically confusing meal ever. A half dozen raw oysters. Blue Points from Canada. And foie gras. It was either from California or New York, I think, the only current sources in the U.S. Actually I shared these two dishes with FFP. My entrée? A dish designed around a program called 'edible Austin.' It was bison stew with root vegetables. The meat and vegies came from within miles of the restaurant. The idea is for chefs to put on dishes that, you know, don't burn a lot of fossil fuel getting to the table.

Oh...and I had two glasses of wine. I think one was from California. And one from Italy.

And, hey, my yogurt comes from Austin, too. And I'm about to go have some before I go, gulp, get a root canal. So if you don't hear from me for a while, just think 'ouch!'

Diet and Exercise

No I didn't eat the Migas in the foreground. Nope. I ate the Eggs Chorizo in the background! That was Sunday at Aranda's Taqueria #3, near our house. We had this day that was deliciously free of anything on the calendar although we had noted that Top Drawer Thrift store, also in our neighborhood, was having a tent sale with bands. But why go see them reselling all the junk we hauled out of this house? Would that be sad- or glad-making? So, really, no obligations.

As sometimes happens we took the 'no obligations' to heart and went off to eat a totally unhealthy, cheap breakfast answering 'yes' a couple of times when the waitress said 'mas café?' Yeah, big white endless mugs of black coffee. And reading some part of the Sunday papers. FFP was reading an article in the Statesman about Earl Campbell and I was reading the New York Times magazine which had its 'Year in Ideas' article.

It's so fun to do something like that, but then, belly full of that, can you really do anything? Can you really stay awake even with all that caffeine? Especially with really good football games to watch? (How about them Cowboys?) I'm not a football fan, really, but it can be entertaining while reading and dozing.

But I just checked in on the game now and then on a little 30-year-old TV in our kitchen. I wrapped the few presents that I'd purchased for the parental units and friends. In the process, I decided I'd clean out a closet that used to hold (before we owned the house) the hot water heater. We'd installed some metal shelves and for years called it the 'sports closet.' We kept bowling balls, tennis rackets, softball stuff and the like in there. The family is down to one sport (me playing tennis) and all my gear is in the tennis bag in the car. Gradually the closet became the 'gift closet.' We put things we might give as gifts, wrapping paper, gift sacks, bows, empty boxes, bubble wrap, party decor, empty sacks and costume things in there and I usually clean it out when I wrap the few Christmas presents we wrap ourselves.

So I wrapped the presents. I sat aside a few Christmas gift bags, tags, a little wrapping paper, some other occasion sacks and wrap and the bubble wrap and sorted out most everything else to give away. I actually found two gift-wrapped gifts (with cheaper tags on the bottom) that I had left over from last year and forgot. Some rubber chickens went in the thrift store pile, old calendars to the pile for the neighbor to give to kids in art class, empty boxes ditto. Books, picture frames and other things we'd saved for emergency gifts to the thrift store. I think I queued up nine or ten cubic feet of stuff to be outta here. I cleaned the shelves, swept the floor and put the few surviving things back in there. Not bad after a Mexican Breakfast!

The Cowboys won (I got the final score on that little TV in the kitchen while washing up some dishes) and I talked to a friend about her health issues and plans for the holidays and our plan to get together for a meal when another friend came to town.

At that point, it would have been easy to say: "You accomplished something!" and just settle in front of the TV and snooze. FFP had steamed squash and onions with dill and I had some with a little grated cheese along the way. You know, to round out eggs, chorizo, potatoes, beans and guacamole. I have a balanced diet!

But I didn't slide into my stylish red chair in the bedroom with the Times and another cuppa. No. I went to the gym. I read newspapers while peddling to nowhere on a recumbent bike for fifty minutes and then doing some weight work on my arms, chest, shoulders and back. I would have once considered this a stellar workout. But now it's an ordinary one for me. That's the vicious thing about exercise. The more you do, the more your body demands to offset the same unhealthy breakfast.

I went home and, of course, I finally slid into that chair. I ate something more. Maybe a couple of Clementines (the fruit component of the diet). Maybe some tofu dip and pita chips and a glass of Guinness. Maybe a little bit of cheese. Yeah, probably all of that.

Because that's the secret to life, eh? Diet and exercise.

What Makes a Holiday?

The soldier Nutcrackers wear iPods. The association of Nutcrackers with epaulets and Christmas is strong but how many people see the ballet ("The Nutcracker") or just see decorations like these (at the Austin Apple Store hence the iPods) and think 'Christmas.'

For a lot of years now, over a decade probably, we have mostly spent the Christmas holiday in Austin. Usually in the company of our parents who have been aging apace. My mom didn't make Christmas 2002 and so this six Christmases with just Dad and the in-laws. And I've got to say my mom loved Christmas. She'd wear Christmas socks, sweatshirt and earrings. All at once. She loved big family meals. The last Christmas she was alive she was pretty festive about it even though she was in the hospital, I think, right before Christmas Day. There are no little kids around here. The little kids in our immediate family are up in Colorado.

I usually decorate a little inside the house even if we aren't having a party. (It's a good thing we didn't plan a party. Our front yard and driveway is a war zone from the water works.)

This year I can't bring myself to decorate. The outside decorations are sold and the yard wouldn't accommodate at the moment. We never had a tree really but I would put out decor, light up a glass table, put presents on it. I have spread the cards that have arrived around in the front room but they don't really look much like Christmas. Most of them are pictures of families.

When I was a kid Christmas was about Baby Jesus, sure, but also about getting something you wanted and some surprises. We buy what we want these days and our wants are mostly unfulfilled by shopping anyway. When I was a kid, we loved decorating the tree with all these ornaments we used every year and then wrapping stuff for others to surprise them and examining and shaking the packages addressed to us. We can't surprise anyone any more. My dad gives money and FFP's parents, too. We do all their shopping of that sort anyway.

No amount of money or electronic gear can make my dad's back feel better or make me feel better about him staying in today and asking me to bring him stamps, money and his shirts from the laundry. We have parties to attend but they feel a little like burdens. Maybe that's my toothache talking (I mean all this festive ditch digging in my front yard and a possible root canal, too?), but I'm just saying.

We will pass the holiday without noticing much festivity, I guess. No one will get an iPod in this family. There will be a few bright greetings in the mail and we are going to a party at a neighbor's house that will be decorated to beat the band. They have a little miniature village that takes up most of a room, a Nutcracker collection although none wear iPods. Maybe along the way I'll don my gay apparel (my one red sweater or red blazer) and I'll feel all cheery and bright and it won't all seem as stupid as a nutcracker with an iPod. Maybe my annual pilgrimage to see "The Nutcracker" will actually spark a holiday feeling. Even if the weather outside is still unconvincingly winter I can watch the Snow Queen and think, yeah, Christmas!

Interlocking

They are sturdy, colorful, cute and fascinating. They pop together, interlocking with a satisfying snap. Since I'm in a twelve (or more) step program for recovering collectors, I will admit that I was tempted to collect LEGO Toys. When I realized I had money to waste, somehow I acquired LEGO sets and bricks. Oh, I had my excuses. I bought sets on sale at Target to 'give as gifts.' And mostly I gave them away. But some, no. I bought bulk bricks online to do a project for a Christmas party at work where we let the kids make ornaments from them. Someone gave me a pile that had belonged to her son. He had 'outgrown' them. I bought some trains and LEGO Christmas sets to decorate a tree at work. A few people started giving me gifts of interesting sets. Some I opened and put together. Others sat in their boxes in a closet, under the stairs in storage.

In 2005, I realized that a number of sets and piles of loose pieces were taking up lots of cubic feet of space and that I had no reason to hold them hostage. I'm not even very good at assembling LEGO stuff. Three-dimensional things are not my forté sadly. Meanwhile, my niece in Colorado was raising a house of boys. So I found as many of the sets and pieces as I could and sorted them into types or piled them up by age group. Before Christmas I shipped a bunch of them to her. Santa brought the boys special bags of LEGO that Christmas. Some sets were put aside for later gifts. I still had some sets that were too advanced for the kids so I stored those awaiting a trip to Colorado where they could wait for the boys to grow up.

I felt good about giving them away. My niece talked about all the joy they brought and she said that one night when she and her husband were searching this trove of LEGO to pick gifts and decide what to save for later that he said: "You aunt is so cool!" You don't get that much from the young people. Even if he was a thirty-something Dad.

In June my Dad and I were able to drive his van up to see the Colorado relatives. I piled in stuff to give them and included the remaining LEGO sets. There was an electric train, mint in box. With the oldest great nephew only seven, it was still too advanced for them. I'd hoped to get the sets to my niece to hide away. But we were weary when we arrived and wanted to unload the van and the boys needed entertaining so we let them help unload. The oldest convinced his mom that he could put together a small set on the spot with her help and then he talked to his dad on the cell and told him that he got it together and "it was for eight year olds!" He eyed the train wistfully. We told him it was for much later or needed assistance from his dad.

The next day we planned a dinner to celebrate a birthday and anniversary. Eight adults, two feisty boys and two infants. So we went to a noisy Buca di Beppo. We met there and my seven-year-old great nephew insisted on sitting by me. He said he had something to tell me. He had convinced his dad to put together the train and they'd spent most of the afternoon on it. He was so excited about it and drew a picture of it on the kid's menu with some stick figures beside it.

"Is that you and your dad?" I asked.

"No. It's me and you!" He said.

Of course, he's a kid and he couldn't stop talking also about running things over with the train, like mini-figs and other toys.

Now I guess I can't show up without a LEGO in hand. I don't get to see these kids this Christmas but there will be a LEGO under the tree for that boy. It would seem that once you have 10,000 bricks you could make anything and wouldn't need more sets. But the sets fascinate the kids because inside are all the parts you need and these great visual plans for making something shown on the box.

I love the idea of LEGO. But the reality of owning bricks is now limited to a couple of Christmas ornaments stuffed away with the other Christmas stuff I haven't gotten out this year. Little elves and Santas made from a few bricks. And I can always go to Colorado and visit the collection and know that when those little boys see me they think of interlocking bricks. There could be worse things.

The Less Said the Better

It's that time of year when we recap, review, reconsider and, most of all, write a holiday letter that sums up our year. Actually, we very rarely do that without tongue firmly inserted in cheek (something I've been doing a lot the last four months with some dental problems). Actually, we already sent our holiday cards and they have a decided lack of information...just a picture that might puzzle some people and a simple greeting.

For the sake of Holidailies and Jette's excellent writing prompt of the day ("Write your own version of those holiday newsletters that people send to friends and relatives at this time of year.") I'm going to pixel out here what we could have printed and sent.

We spent 2007 firmly entrenched in our role as the grown children of very elderly parents (three, average age 91.6) who miraculously live on their own but not without a bit of help. LB's dad sputtered along at the beginning of the year with an infection and complications from a surgical procedure but miraculously recovered, got back into the pool for water aerobics and back to driving himself and doing things for himself with minimal assistance. His back began bothering him again recently and compromising his mobility toward the end of the year, but he still manages a lot of his own errands. At 91, not bad. LB took him to West Texas and Colorado to visit relatives in his van. FFP's parents settled into a system whereby FFP shops for them and drives them to any appointments. With one good eye between the two of them, that good eye needed a cataract surgery this year. LB likes that she almost never has to shop unless her dad doesn't feel like it. As long as FFP is shopping for his parents....he might as well shop for this house, too.

Friends died. The dog died. Well, we 'put her down.' We never had a dog that just died. We are now, for the first time in twenty-some years, dogless.

We took a trip together, too. We just sort of randomly decided to go to Santa Fe and Scottsdale. Mostly to break in a new car and smugly listen to XM radio in the middle of nowhere.

Books. We got rid of hundreds, acquired an exceptionally small number (for us) and didn't get nearly as many read as we'd like. LB did attack James Joyce's Ulysses which never fails to elicit rolled eyes when she tells someone. She has read 550/933 of it as of this writing.

Weather. As I write this it is warm and humid outside. We had a 'big ice storm' (it's all relative in Austin) in January and all our households survived fine but the reflecting ball in the garden was destroyed by falling ice during the melt.

People asked us all year the same old question: "What do you do now that you are retired." We answered that we are now dilettantes. But, really, FFP wrote a weekly column and worked hard on the boards of two non-profits and on special projects for a couple more. LB rocked along avoiding much beyond tennis, workouts and Dad duty except for a few volunteer things at the country club.

We tried to downsize. We gave away furniture, books, knickknacks, clothes, kitchen things. We gave away fine wine. We tossed worn out clothes and shoes. We recycled magazines and papers we'd kept too long and shredded things that needed shredding long ago. We tossed VCR tapes, cassette tapes. I gave away old cameras, toys, stuff I'd saved to make found-object collages, literary journals. I transcribed paper journals to the computer to save them without taking up space.

LB rode a couple of Austin's Capital Metro's buses to meet friends. This had been a goal of hers. She has no idea why she set that goal. She also signed up to post a blog entry every day in November through NaBloPoMo and throughout the holidays in Holidailies. She probably sets these goals because they aren't too challenging and allow her to displace from, say, downsizing.

Everything in our front yard leaked this year. The water main, the sprinkler system and the water service to our house. Short of christening it Lake Preece-Ball we couldn't think of anything to do but badger the city and pay workmen hundreds and hundreds of dollars.

We went to many charity affairs or parties precipitating multiple fashion emergencies for LB. We gave a dinner for charity and had a reading of a play at our house. We did a 'white tie and ball gowns' party for the first time ever. People treated us. We treated them. We drank some fine wine from our own cellar and happily helped people winnow down their collections.

LB admitted she will never be a cook and we ate out more than ever.

We got serious about moving downtown by signing a contract on a condo in a downtown high rise that should be finished by the middle of next year. We saw a building open to house the Ballet Austin Butler Dance Education Center after working on the capital campaign for several years. This building is next to our condo.

We watched downtown Austin change in other ways. The Intel shell got more or less imploded. The 44-story building that will one day shelter our (tenth floor) condo rose and rose and topped. Other buildings changed the skyline and the Long Center neared completion.

LB continued to live up to the notation on her personal blog (The Visible Woman): "Pretending to write but really just blogging." She helped a friend start a screenplay project and she started two more blogs(The Journal of Unintended Consequences and Austin, Texas Daily Photo), but there are no manuscripts of novels or the self-help books she intends to write.

We didn't see a lot of movies in the regular theater runs this year but we saw a lot on DVD through Netflix and also saw a pile in Austin Film Festival and SXSW Film. We were volunteer screeners for AFF, too, and we watched 192 films. Most of them shorts, of course. Two involved men with relationships with dolls and were not pornographic. Neither film was Lars and the Real Girl. But the coincidence so freaked out LB that she refuses to see that one.

In general, we spent a lot of the year wearily answering questions about our future home in the condo, how we like retirement (and how we spend our time...see above), when we are going to sell the house (and what happens to the found object band in the backyard) and how we are doing at downsizing. Occasionally people would ask if we 'had any big trips planned.' And we'd have to say, no, not really. Now that our desire to sell a house after buying a condo has been made known and caused something called the subprime credit crisis and housing downturn, we are tired of being asked why we didn't sell earlier and how we plan to deal with that. It makes me sigh. It makes me boring. Let's just talk about something else.

Happy Holidays to You and Yours. Catch you next year for another boring recap. And I'm glad that your kids did well in (1) school; (2) scouts; (3) soccer and/or (4) whatever and that you had all those family vacations!

Shopping for Charity

No, I didn't buy a puffy jacket for a dog for charity. And this entry is not about the Holidailies Charity Project. That was yesterday. We don't have a dog anymore anyway. I shot this picture last night at The Domain (an upscale Austin shopping/eating/residential street plunked down beside Mopac). And I don't even exactly get why this was in the Victoria's Secret window.

We had been at the Ralph Lauren store. They gave us a lot of free food and booze and they gave 15% of the cash register receipts to the Long Center for the Performing Arts. FFP bought me a sweater that is the lightest cashmere I have ever seen. It was wildly expensive (to me) even though it was marked down and marked down again at the register for some reason, but, well, you know one of our favorite charities got a few bucks. And I needed a new black cashmere sweater. Very versatile. It's amazing how many meals, parties, hotel stays and how much stuff that we purchased over the years because someone had kicked it in for a charity auction. You feel a little less beneficent when some store is kicking in just a percentage or a restaurant is giving a percentage of the gate because, after all, they are still making a profit probably. Your expenditure is not equivalent with donation. With auctions, businesses and individuals give stuff to the charity and then you buy it and voilà the charity has cash. Still you could just turn the coin over to the charity.

I never feel bad about these exchanges for charity, really. The charity gets some money. I get stuff or meals or whatever and have some fun. I look around our house and see a handmade chair, a Christofle vase, another beautiful vase, a handmade coffee table, a modern round table and a number of other things that we bought at charity auctions. In my front yard there is an oak tree that has grown to be over twenty feet tall since we bought it in a twenty-gallon container from a charity auction and planted it. A charity tree.

Last Saturday we were invited to go to an event for free because a friend bought a fancy pants sponsor table. We felt compelled to bid on some massages, a couple of hotel stays and some restaurant coupons in the auction. We couldn't bid on stuff because we are downsizing.

It's a silly way to get money for charities in a way but the fêtes, galas, store parties, 'percentage goes to charity' restaurant days and silent and live auctions continue. Everyone knows it would probably be better to separate commerce and charity, that somehow more good might be done. But it is better than nothing, I suppose. Better than expecting people to open their wallets and get nothing in return. Caterers, liquor companies, businesses promote themselves and some charities scrape off a marketing dollar or two. No harm done? Probably not much.

The Book Signing

Charity is something that my husband (known as FFP here) and I consider carefully, giving our time and coin to things that we think can make the world a better place. Since today's writing prompt is "What are your ideas for the Holidailies Charity Project, and which organization would you choose?" I thought I'd talk about a group that has amazed me. Whether this group receives the benefit of the collective capability of the Holidailies group or not, I love talking about it.

And since writing prompts have received some ink (or pixels) in the Holidailies space, I'd like to talk about kids and writing and what for one girl was the 'mother of all prompts.'

The group I'm writing about is an Austin-based group whose purpose is to "teach children the language skills necessary to become the authors of their own lives." Wow, that sounds like something an inveterate blogger could get behind, huh?

Yes, if you have the time go to the Badgerdog Literary Publishing site and see what they do in detail. Basically, they take accredited writing instructors to at-risk kids in after school programs. The kids learn to write and to publish, creating a literary journal that has readings and signings. (They sell their first North American publishing rights to the group for copies of the journal.) I've got to say that going to a reading and seeing a little boy's family snapping pictures of him reading poetry that he wrote does my heart good. Seeing kids signing their pieces in Youth Voices in Ink (while having some cookies and lemonade like the little girl shown above) is an amazing thing.

But back to writing prompts. FFP (who is on the board of directors for this group) likes to tell a story he heard about a young lady who was having lots of difficulties in school. She wasn't succeeding at anything in the system. Placed in a Badgerdog after-school program she was given a writing prompt one day and she put pen to paper and didn't look up for a long, long time. That writing prompt was quite simple. It was: "My mother...." Writing is healing. Sometimes all we need is that prompt. We touch ourselves and we touch others.

I'm totally behind getting some of the scores of Holidailies contributors to contribute a small amount to do something for the community. I have contributed to groups who enhance their visible giving power by assembling a group of people to give one larger gift. I'm proud to have contributed to the Long Center for the Performing Arts here in Austin through such a group. It's a lot of fun to be a part of something that is bigger than what you could do alone. Chip mentioned literacy as a possible area of interest for a charity to choose. Reading is a great skill. Life-changing even. Writing? Definitely life-transforming. As many of us who 'only blog' know well.

I Lost My Purse

Not really. Nothing to lose. I gave up carrying a purse some years ago and, a few years later, gave away the last one which was a tan leather Coach bag with a simple profile. Now I make sure I have pockets for things like those shown in my office drawer photographed here. My shorts have pockets, my sweat pants have pockets. Dress pants? I wear either custom pants with front pockets or co-opt Men's wear. Jeans? Pockets. Blazers are a fixture in my wardrobe. A couple were searched out meticulously to find ones with an inside pocket and most were custom-made with two inside pockets and outside patch pockets. Traveling with important things like traveler's checks or passport? Let's just say it's on my person.

Not to say that I never carry a bag. I have a messenger bag, a brief case, a couple of backpacks including one designed for a laptop. I have ten zillion of those canvas bags you get free or for a couple of bucks in a store. If I want to carry books, papers or a laptop then yeah, a bag. But for wallet, keys and such? Nope. Pockets.

The other night we were at Austin's Saks store for a party. I wanted to take some photos of honorees and put my wine glass down on a shelf. There were purses on the shelf. They had lots of flaps and buckles (the current fashion apparently) and cost four figures. Yes, over a thousand dollars. Imagine how much the ones behind glass go for?

Whenever I hear about a woman who got out of her car to go meet her kid and got her purse stolen or about someone who lost wallet, etc. in a grab and run I wonder: is it that important to not look dowdy? Because obviously pockets are dowdy. Plus I admit I clip my old school phone to my belt and put my digital camera there occasionally. I look dowdy, lumpy and bumpy. But I keep up with wallet usually!

I did get pick pocketed in the Paris subway, though. The guy crowded me on the escalator and then reached in the outside pocket of my jacket to grab a wallet I had there. I hope he enjoyed the small amount of cash and the Metro tickets and the fake credit cards. Because, yeah, it was a 'dummy' wallet for the purpose of paying for and holding Metro tix.

Losing the purse simplified my life. No fashion accessories. Not so many lost things.

That drawer I've shown used to be chaos but I cleaned it out as part of the downsizing effort. I park my keys, cameras, wallet , phone, etc. there. I try to keep my wallet thin.

But like all these tales, there is a warning. The one thing I have trouble controlling are all the little notebooks and pens I carry around. They are everywhere and yet, when you are looking for one, nowhere to be found. Also, I have given up carrying a PDA (where would I put it!?) so while my phone has lots of numbers, I can't always tell people what's on my calendar when I'm away from the computer. This can be a good thing, though, because it gives you time to make excuses or double check with the spousal unit before committing.

Is my purse-less life simpler? Yeah. Is it still chaos here? You bet.

I Could Be Everywhere at Once

...if only I had the time! Time, space, motion, memory. I spent about thirty minutes searching for this picture, taken in 2001, yesterday. I am putting in my blog because it feels so valuable now that I searched and searched for it. (Remember how I said yesterday that my pictures never get properly labeled? This one was called 104-0454_IMG.JPG.) I gave it a better name but now it's in my blog, too, so I can refer to it. Now that we have our water main problem fixed, we have a leak in our own service. Since we have a cutoff in the house we have determined that it is between the meter and the house. The sprinkler guy asserts that he has fixed all his bits and stuff in the area, checked other stations and he has uncovered all his lines near the service. We have this suspicious wet area between two driveway surfaces, too.

So what is the significance of this picture? Well, when we built our pervious Eco-Crete driveway (which we were doing when this picture was shot) they broke a line in the water service to the house. We remembered it being in a certain place (see pink paint) but we couldn't for the life of us think why the pipe was there. To get to the garage and enter the house where the service enters the house it would have to make a hard turn to the north. Why would anyone do that? This is the original house on the lot.

Later in the evening I had a water detective Eureka moment. I remembered that there was a closet that used to house the hot water heater before it was moved to the garage. So, of course, the original angle of the line went under the house to that closet! Now, of course, another question is where does the thing turn? But I feel much better than I have any right to feel just because I figured that out. Hey, this house was built in 1951. We've lived here 30 years. There were things the people we bought it from didn't tell us. We have made all these discoveries and repaired things. We are trying to simplify our lives by selling this sprawling complicated property. But I'm going to tell the new owners everything I can think of about the place. With pictures. Seriously, you are supposed to do that according to some real estate things or the other. But after 30 years I'm still making discoveries. Or rediscoveries. Like the fact that the outlets in one room that is the original living room have one plug that is switched (by three different switches) and one that isn't.

So how have I simplified my life in this sprawling entry? Well, I've saved the picture, for what it's worth on the Internet so I can find it again. And, I might add, labeled it properly on my computer. And the seemingly slightly off topic title and subtitle record a phrase I wrote on a piece of scrap paper that I could otherwise discard as it has notes from me taking care of budget and financial stuff. But I didn't want to lose track of that phrase. It is so twisted. Because you can only be one place at a time no matter how long you have. There is a enormous missed opportunity if you are mortal.

All these little pieces of paper are chaos. They help me remember stuff and yet I have to carefully review them before I can stick them in recycling. I really need to keep all my 'to do' stuff in an electronic file. But I've given up on using a PDA. And my phone is old school and just phones. So when I'm not at the computer, I use scraps of paper.

How I Simplified My Life

The title should be extended with "and how my life is still a bucket of chaos." This photo was taken outside a movie theater in Waterville, Maine in July 2005. (I know this because I organize the raw images I download from my camera by month. This simplifies my life. Of course, the fact that I almost never bother to properly label these images helps with the chaos part. I do try to give them better names when I edit them for the blogs.) The picture shows a large model of a building made from wine corks.

I think this will be a little ongoing theme for my blog during Holidailies. What has worked in making my life simpler. And evidence that entropy outruns my best efforts in the same realms.

It is a fertile area: this battle with simplicity and chaos. Simplicity is good for the soul. Chaos feeds the mind.

There is the matter of journals. I still use paper journals but I try to copy them to the computer and (even though I know better) consider that they are saved for posterity. This effort is Sisyphean to say the least. But I have actually discarded some little spiral bound notebooks and they are gone to the landfill instead of taking up space here.

Then there is the newspaper pile. I have developed a method for sorting through a pile of papers quickly. If it's a strictly business section I give the headlines a glance. Charts of stock prices and graphs are ignored. I get that online. If it's a Sports Section, I discard it immediately unless we are in the midst of a Grand Slam Tennis event when I might look at articles about tennis. But usually I get the Grand Slams online through a wonderful portal with draws and real time scores and more. I have more trouble discarding sections about Art and Leisure and Technology and Science. My best efforts at controlling piles of newsprint are simply inundated by two papers that come daily, one six days a week and a few weeklies. We won't even talk about magazines and especially the deluge of New Yorkers arriving fifty times a year. Let's just say that one in my bathroom is a 2005 issue.

And technology. I've greatly simplified my life by delaying technology acquisition. Because as much as that new (printer/computer/camera/phone/GPS receiver/scanner/external hard drive/DVD player/TV/video console/whatever) will enhance your life, it will also suck away your time testing and programming and hooking up and such. Even though it's fun to own your favorite music CD or movie on DVD, there is that matter of storage. So I resist buying technology and media. I will eventually succumb but hopefully less of my time is wasted in the interim. Sadly, I often buy technology for others, especially my nieces, and then find myself testing the item before I send it to them.

I want a simple existence where everything is useful and has its place and I want to live in a reasonable amount of space. But it has to be complicated enough to be interesting, too. In this vein I continue with downsizing and organizing and divesting. Knowing that it will never really happen.

And did I mention that I have a drawer full of wine corks in the kitchen? Hence the relevance of this photo. See I'm making sense here. Aren't I?

Stay In Touch!

Holiday cards are, in a way, just a part of the excess that took over our world sometime in the latter half of the 20th Century. But for me they are the very best part of that excess. FFP and I had some picture cards printed at Costco and last weekend I printed out mailing labels and stamped my return address on the envelopes, applied the labels and slipped a card in each envelope after writing something on the back even if it was just 'Happy Holidays!' On Monday I bought stamps showing trees, reindeer, snowmen and teddy bears as if knitted on sweaters. I waved off the religious stamp when the PO guy showed me and I don't remember what it was. Mary and Child maybe? Yes, that's it. A reproduction of a painting in the National Gallery. (The Internet is so powerful in elucidating memories.)

The pile shown here is from the collection I received last year. It is pretty thoroughly described here.

What do I like about this tradition? I think first and foremost I like being forced to go through my mailing list database and think about the people behind the entries. I keep the list on Microsoft Access. It is not the most friendly program around and every year I do hand-to-hand combat with the merge function to print labels. I believe the list began under some program called DB-III or something and then was kept in a Paradox database and migrated to Access some years ago. One column I've maintained for years is a Yes of No question labeled 'XMAS.' When I extract labels for the cards I query that. This year a sprawling list of contact info was narrowed to about 200 labels for the cards. Before I ran the query I sorted through the list. I had to do the sad duty of deleting people who died since last I cleaned the list. I noticed a few people whose addresses were wrong and such.

Now I'm waiting for the other side of this process. The receiving of cards has already begun, of course, but only in a trickle. One is really an invitation to a party down the street. The other four send greetings with their family picture, just as we did this year. (Although we will never top the family portrait seen here.) Each card will be appreciated and scrutinized on this end. My haven't the kids grown! Save the envelope and make sure the address is in the database. Oh, they sent their clever family letter again...have to read that. How delightful to hear from them and know they are OK.

Even if this is the only time I hear a thing from someone the whole year I feel like we are maintaining a friendship across time and circumstance and against whatever odds. There is no Christmas tree at our house. I haven't even gotten out my usual outlandish toy decorations. But I'm going to be putting the cards I receive on the mantle and shelves and enjoying them until a day in early January when I flip through them one last time and think about how we will all change in the new year.

[The other holiday tradition I relish is Holidailies and Chip and Jette have outdone themselves this year. They even corrected the mistake I made in communicating with their site that I mentioned below. Jette selected my writing prompt for today, too, so I thought I better use it!]

Holidailies is Fixed!

I learned a couple of things when I came home from breakfast at the Frisco Shop this morning. (Tennis was a wet out...it isn't raining but the courts are wet.)

One, I have to be careful in entering my entries into the Holidailies portal. I was so excited that it was up that I flubbed copying my link to the entry I was presenting into the portal. Cool as Chip's technology is, there is no recourse for correcting a entry once it's posted. I accidentally popped in the link to my last night's menu from the Four Seasons site! People are bound to find this puzzling! It was the last thing I'd copied and I failed to hit CTRL-C to copy the link to my entry. Anyway, I'm glad the portal is up and it is very cool and I'm sure I'll discover some great entries and journals.

Two, I learned that the reason the button was missing from The Visible Woman to link to Holidailies was that Blogger was probably ditching it for having a bad link associated with it while it was down. Who knew it would do that? Not me, certainly. The button is back. I did nothing to correct it.

Three, I discovered that a big 'traditional' Frisco shop breakfast is very sleepy-making. I stayed up late (about 1AM) and got up around seven-thirty. When tennis was a wash today due to wet courts even though the rain had stopped, FFP and I decided to go out for breakfast. The old Frisco shop near Burnet and Koenig has been there for over fifty years, but will soon move to a new location to make way for Walgreen's. We had the 'Number Two' which we customized with two eggs, bacon, hash browns, biscuits and strawberry jam. I had the eggs over easy. FFP scrambled. I had grapefruit juice and he had OJ. Coffee and more coffee. Still. So. Sleepy.

Good Cheer

I usually wear only black and gray. But I wore my red jacket last night and we took some friends to a wine dinner at Four Seasons new Trio restaurant. I had what would soar into a bad screaming toothache but I managed to smile in front of the tree for a quick picture when we were leaving. This was around 9:30. I put up with the pain until midnight and then took some Advil. The good news is that my toothache is getting localized enough that I'm hoping that the endodontist can figure out what to do. The other good news is that it an OTC painkiller helps a little and makes it bearable. The bad news is cost and pain and all that. But around the BP house we've taken to saying "yeah, but it isn't life-threatening!"

It's December. I can't believe that. And so Christmas is really here before we know it.

I got FFP to shoot this picture because my niece wanted to make Christmas tags with pictures of the givers and recipients so her little boys could easily sort the packages and see pictures of the relatives that sent gifts from far away.

I'm not in a particular festive mood but visiting with our friends was a delight and we had a great meal, paired with Lamborn Family Winery wines. It is amazing to get away with friends, to gossip and to talk about truly important and also really trivial things. This couple is so busy that we were more than delighted to find a night we could spend together so pleasantly. My toothache couldn't even spoil it. (The wine might have soothed it a little, too.) The monkfish and persimmon salad was to die for, too, and the beef sublime. (I save my beef moments for truly good stuff.)

Today is (or was to be) the beginning of another month of blogging, courtesy of Holidailies. I was puzzled this morning to see I'd lost the linking button for the site. Don't know when I lost that from the blog. Then I tried to go to Holidailies but all the sites related to my friends Jette and Chip seem to be down. Just a small glitch, I'm sure. I discovered that the host site for their many sites is also down.

Anyway, here I am, writing next to nothing about nothing every day. I hope you all have a day of good cheer. And nothing wrong that is life threatening.

Sorry to be Short

Seems like my posts here have been sort of terse for the last few days. I guess I've fallen into a rut of just typing something in, adding a picture, obligation done. I've been writing a lot in my personal journal. But that all seems to fall in the category of "my mouth doesn't hurt or does hurt in the following ways" or "these are the things I'm not getting done."

I will try to be more of a correspondent with the Holidailies obligation. Because that is something that commands more respect to me somehow. (Yeah. Stupid, I guess. Made up obligations to mask real and present ones.)

The picture? My shadow. Tennis court. A lot of my friends can't, won't, shouldn't play and I'm humbled that I still can. One of the friends I was playing with yesterday who is older by ten or fifteen years was mystified about why I'd take a picture of my shadow on the tennis court. Explaining about a blog that begged for pictures seemed futile.

Where Is My Head?

The reflection is a cow girl shop on Second Street. My head? Well, the cycling tooth pain and mouth problems continue. Right this second, barely there. From Tuesday night until I went to sleep last night? Yeah, that hurt. But. I talked to friends and a couple are so much worse off than I am that it made me feel like a wimp. So I buzzed around doing a few things yesterday, but not enough . A good workout, catching up with friends, organizing financial stuff and I tossed a cubic foot of old boxes with software manuals and disks inside. One said 'for Windows 3.1 and 98.' Yep. Much downsizing to go, I'd say.

To Trim or Not To Trim?

Last year we put our outside flamingo Santa Christmas decorations up and I filled the house with my (mostly) bendable, posable Christmas toys. I didn't give a party, I don't think, so it was all for us and our parental units. Now the dilemma this year is: to trim or not to trim? There is no question of lights and amusing lighted flamingo things on the front lawn. We actually sold all that stuff. (Downsizing-1; Accumulation-0.) But the cute guys shown in this picture? Still got 'em. Do I drag them out and scatter them around the house along with the cards I receive for a festive air? Do I keep them, as I've threatened to, even when we move to the condo and use them to decorate at Christmas? These guys only occupy a couple of cubic feet of space and they pack away easily when you bend their little arms and legs. I haven't planned a Christmas party and my parental units will probably just be here to 'celebrate' for a few hours.

Good News, Bad News

Don't you hate those 'good news, bad news' jokes? Well, my good news is that I did NOT have a root canal. That's also the bad news since that means I'll probably continue to have my symptoms. The other bad news is it cost me some money to get an inconclusive diagnosis. Something is probably going on. Which tooth isn't certain. Wait and see. But the other good news is I now I'm a patient of an endodontist who looks young enough to still be in high school so if I wake up one day with a walloping pain I can get an emergency appointment. And I'm assured that I'm not ignoring something that should be taken care of. I have a baseline X-Ray and exam with the guy and he'll do another in two weeks (for free if they still don't perform a procedure). La. Ti. Da.

It's unreasonable to feel good about this, I suppose.

I guess it was just that I knew I was doing everything I was supposed to do to take care of the problem if it's a problem.

To celebrate not having a root canal we went out and ate dinner really early at Hyde Park Bar and Grill. A couple of Shiner Bocks from the tap and some tasty food made me feel better. I have managed not to take any Advil since the weekend. This morning my mouth is in one of those states where I say "if it felt this good all the time, I wouldn't have complained."

It brought everything into perspective when we came home and, all our Netflix selections in the mail system somewhere, selected to watch a disk we own: Annie Hall. Alvie explains to Annie how everything is divided into the horrible and the miserable concluding "that's very lucky to be miserable."

Fact is I'm not even miserable right now. I was a couple of times over the long holiday weekend. Maybe I'd even disagree with Alvy. There are moments when everything that's wrong stands at bay and let's you have a look at being, if not happy, without immediate palpable misery.

Barely There

This post-holiday Monday I'm trying to re-engage with myself, get things taken care of and all that. I spent most of yesterday afternoon writing notes on Christmas cards, putting on mailing labels (or writing addresses by hand on a few) and stamping our return address. I know it's better to have fancy cards with printed return addresses and to hand write the recipient address, etc. But I do write something on the back of the (inexpensive) photo cards. I made up about 175 of these yesterday. These were selected from the around 500 address items in my database. Criteria for sending a card is complicated and involves many factors from whether we generally receive a holiday card from the recipient, whether I feel the need to keep in touch or see if the address is correct (will the card come back?), etc. We have received three cards from others already. Two were identical...one addressed to me and one to FFP.

I'm feeling a bit disjointed today. I am going to see an endodontist about my reoccurring weird mouth pain. My dad has been complaining of back problems and although each day he tells me "I'm getting better" he has nevertheless decided to go to the doctor today. He asked me yesterday to go today and shop for his groceries and vacillated today about whether he'd do it himself but finally decided I should do it. Which I'm happy to do. So I have a few errands. I have to mail stuff to Colorado today (some stuff needs to arrive before Christmas) and buy holiday stamps for all those cards. I have to buy and deliver a few groceries for my dad. I have to call the dentist and tell him that I'm going to see the endodontist so he can consult with him if he wishes. And I have to maybe have a root canal. Although probably not since I'm not in a lot of pain so they'll probably schedule it for later. I hate it when you have 'see about root canal' on your 'to do' list. I'd rather shop and I hate to shop. Actually I've never had a root canal, but anything dental is not my favorite. So it goes. I'm worried about my dad, too, of course. He's had a number of months without many complaints and of course I knew it wouldn't last forever.

The photo was taken on South Lamar last month. It evokes my feeling of being barely there in my own life today.

Nothing But Blue Skies

I am basically an optimistic person. But I'm realistic, too. This picture shows a cloudy sky reflected in the water at the bottom of the hole after the water main fix.

I don't expect everything to go wrong. Some things, yeah. And my world pretty much tracks those expectations. I read the papers. (As a lot of you know I spend too much time reading the papers.) I know that my life is charmed compared to many around the world. And in my own community.

I'm about 50-50 on whether the water main will leak again in my yard while I own the place. I think it will eventually leak out there again. Probably though something somewhere else will unexpectedly go wrong.

I expect most things to work. Luckily, in our world, most things do, most of the time. It does seem with three houses to look after that something is amiss a lot of the time. So it goes. Maintenance.

I expect to get better if I feel ill. I've been so lucky with my health my whole life. A problem went undiagnosed for a few years but once I had surgery for it 1970 I have avoided being in the hospital for an illness or accident since. I'm still not sure my problems with my mouth, face, head pain are getting better or if it will all culminate in the discovery of an abscess needing a root canal or some other problem. I have put off going to an endodontist even though a referral is lying here on my desk. Without a confirming x-ray (which the dentist didn't get on several tries) I understand that the endodontist will try to stimulate the pain with hot, cold or electrical stimulation. My own experiments don't trigger this reliably. But probably I should follow up. But I was hoping the discomfort would start occurring persistently and reliably enough that the source would be more obvious. That point may have been reached last night and early this morning. I have heard of people having a need for a root canal and being in extreme pain. And others being unaware of the nerve because it was dead. I'm some where in between. I haven't taken anything but Advil and the pain is not such that I would take a narcotic. But the thing is nagging away at me and I've got to see about stopping it.

Meanwhile it is rainy and cold. But I expect blue skies soon. Yep. I expect things to get better. And they usually do.

Delusions

The picture is a reflection of South Congress in the window of an art gallery showing a painting which gives the illusion of water color and tissue paper over a mundane photo of a street.

Before I retired I envisioned that retirement would be a certain way. Some things panned out. Others, not so much.

I thought I'd exercise and play tennis. This has become true. I never think I do enough activity but the truth is that my regime has made me fitter. I feel it, for sure.

I thought I'd worry about money with no regular influx from the man and having to pay health insurance and so forth. I spend time managing money, but I don't worry.

I thought I'd do drug studies. No, really. I used to read those ads and think "that is the way to pick up a little money in retirement." That is so silly, I can't believe I entertained it for a second. I hate taking an Advil for a headache. (One of the big things that has bothered me about my stupid floating aches and pains in my mouth is my temptation to take Advil for it.) I don't like taking vitamins and try to get stuff in my food. I think time will cure anything. Most studies require that you stay in the facility some of the time and show up for appointments. With my social schedule? Plus...I've noticed that many, many of these studies have an age cut-off of 55. Hello?

So, yeah, no drug studies.

I wasn't delusional about taking contract work. Every time someone has approached me I have assessed whether there is no possibility of me taking it (when it was going to be a long involved engagement in a morass of politics or was out of my ability range) and recommended someone else. When I thought I might take it, I was very clear on the parameters, gave my free advice (and totally worth it) freely and somehow avoided ever having to really turn down a contract. (I got some good lunches, though, and had interesting discussions.)

I thought I'd do more volunteer work. I really haven't although I have been sucked into a rabbit hole of the board of my club. Must find a way out of that one.

I thought I would write novels, screenplays and short stories. I thought I might even participate in making movies. I have blogged.

I thought I'd do something with my photography of shop windows and my interest in collage. I have posted photos of shop windows and computer collages on my blog.

I thought I'd get all my possessions in order, organized and labeled, neatly arranged and easily accessible. I thought the house would look neat and artful at all times. In spite of the fact that I'm facing a great downsizing (which I didn't really anticipate in 2002) I'm surrounded by piles and stacks of stuff that needs to be, well, organized and labeled. Or discarded. I think we have gotten rid of a room full of stuff (scores of cubic feet). But you wouldn't know it to look around here.

I thought I would play Bridge. Ha. I thought I would cook more. And eat more healthy foods. Ha. Ha. I thought I'd do some interesting things with the computer. Other than editing pictures for the blog and blogging. Ha.

I never set out to blog or try to read all the newspapers that show up at this house or to get better at working crossword puzzles. But there you go.

United?

This reflection picture is from Joe's Bakery over on E. Seventh Street. Joe's, not Jose's, and waving the flag. Assimilation. Agreement. That's worth reflecting on.

There is currently a big flap here in Austin over Hyde Park Baptist Church refusing to rent their 'sports complex' to an Interfaith group for a Thanksgiving celebration. They found out that, zuts alor, non-Christians might show up and pray. That a church can operate tax-free a place that they 'rent' to other groups is what galls me. If a for-profit business refused to rent to a group, they'd be sued. Instead we let these people run a business (where would Jesus play basketball?) and skate taxes. All taxes. Including the property taxes we have to pay. Non-profits with exclusions of who is welcome there shouldn't get these breaks, in my opinion. Not charging property taxes to a real non-profit is another thing entirely.

See the table below? Yeah, that is just one of the 46 properties that belong to Hyde Park Baptist Church assessed in Austin and not taxable by any entity. It's the property worth over a million dollars, removed from tax roles by these good Christians. You are paying for their sport complex every day if you live in Austin by paying higher taxes yourself. You apparently also pay if you want to use the complex...if they will let you! Depends on whether you recognize their devotion to their one true religion as correct. I get it, of course. Can you imagine Jesus looking down on that church's sports megaplex and hearing someone offering up a wrong-headed prayer? Whoa.

	Entity Name		Assessed Value	Taxable Value
	TRAVIS CENTRAL APP DIST		1,400,275.00	0.00
	AUSTIN ISD		1,400,275.00	0.00
	CITY OF AUSTIN		1,400,275.00	0.00
	TRAVIS COUNTY		1,400,275.00	0.00
	TRAVIS CO HEALTHCARE DIST		1,400,275.00	0.00
	AUSTIN COMM COLL DIST		1,400,275.00	0.00

Who's a Turkey?

Me, I guess. We have two Thanksgiving celebrations planned. But I don't have a turkey in the oven. At the club they've been churning out turkeys and trimmings. We plan a brunch there with the old folks (combining a celebration of my father-in-law's 97th birthday as a part of it). A friend will have us over in the afternoon for drinks and another traditional spread. (Although she's been on a diet so I expect a healthier aspect to this one.)

So there are no aromas around our house this morning. It is cooler than yesterday. About forty degrees cooler than yesterday afternoon. The paper was weighed down with extra ads. Me, though, I'm done shopping at any actual stores. Having said that I'm sure I will find myself shopping some time between now and the conclusion of the 'after Christmas return and bargain fest.' But mostly, no. I'll be eating lots of turkey, though. That's so holiday!

I'm also not working out this morning. I have time to do it before brunch. But, no. I'm going to being drinking coffee and looking at ads for stores where I probably won't shop, not for over a month.

And this evening after turkey number two? I'd like to say I'd be doing something useful on the downsizing express. But really? Napping you think?

Down in a Hole

Since two weeks ago tomorrow, we knew in our heart of hearts that something like this lurked four or five feet below. The city fretted, argued that it was ground water, leaned on their shovels, destroyed a good swath of the yard (and lots of sprinkler pipe) looking in the wrong place with a backhoe. They chatted and leaned while waiting for backhoe repairs (first a tire and then "it just kept dying"). Then they went away and sent someone to take a sample to the lab to 'show it wasn't city water.' That guy (this was Monday) said, "By golly, it's a water main leak...I can't believe they couldn't hear it." He promised they'd come yesterday and fix a great swath of pipe so it wouldn't just happen again. So they came today (not yesterday) and what did they replace? The absolute minimum to stop the leak shown above. Now we have a mess, hundreds of dollars of sprinkler and lawn damage and a piece of our driveway knocked out.

Is that the only reason I'm down in the dumps? Not really. The holiday season has succeeded in depressing me before it began. Something about needing to buy gifts when I need to throw away most everything in the house. I tried to get a jump on the season (and get some birthday gifts off) but I arrived at my favorite pack and mail store at 3:30 and they closed at 3PM...until Monday.

And each time I think my mouth will quit its weird burning...back it comes. Maybe it's getting better and maybe not.

Other than that stuff? I had a great day, thanks. And I'm making a list of things to be thankful for. And it will be a long one, of course.

Inspiration

It's really easy to post something to this blog every day. It's even easy to have a relatively new picture to show you readers. (All three of you.) I'm always filling up the digital camera with photos for Austin Daily Photo and only some of them get used over there. This one was taken in Jennifter Balkan's studio during the East Side Studio Tour.

I'm often inspired by objects sitting around me, too. Although those objects are beginning to chide me as I fail miserably at downsizing. Must concentrate on what I've accomplished, not what hasn't been done. That will inspire me.

I Didn't Get Much Done

I had lots of free time yesterday. But I didn't get much done. I did an OK workout. And I went with FFP and a friend to a Heritage Society tour. My friend and I had coffee at Café Pacha and talked about the movie we aren't writing, taste, decorating and caffeine. (She actually sketched out a scene yesterday that is laugh out loud funny, but still I have faith that my block will stop her cold.) Pacha was buzzing even at three in the afternoon and we parked nearby and popped into the ceramics shop and the Home Girls to justify using their parking. (No one else was shopping.) There weren't any attractive tables inside so we sat on the back porch where we used to go with Chalow and my friend's standard poodle. Chalow is enjoying dog afterlife and the poodle had a bout of illness that cost my friend four figures after our last walk and so we sat there, dogless, and noticed this sign. We laughed that maybe ours wouldn't be allowed now anyway. (Although we always kept them seriously restrained on this little porch.)

When I went home, watching The Simpsons and King of the Hill and trying to work the Sunday Times crossword and having some beer and nachos and reading some more papers seemed so much better than actually accomplishing anything.

Holiday From Retirement

That's my reflection (in my dull costume of black jeans and plain shirt). The shop window belongs to Lucy In Disguise, a longtime Austin costume shop on South Congress. I snapped this Friday when I was a bit early to my lunch with a friend at South Congress Cafe.

We have had lots of social obligations of late, but the week of Thanksgiving everyone mostly gives it up and quits trying to schedule events outside the family. As a result the next week on the calendar looks, as FFP and I say, "clean and green." I have a committee meeting, he's participating in a tour for Ballet Austin to court a donor and I have agreed to play tennis a couple of times and do water aerobics, weather permitting. But lunches and evenings are pretty empty. We have planned to take all the parental units to a Thanksgiving buffet. This will allow us to honor the turkey and trimmings without the effort and leftovers.

So what does all this 'free' time mean? I hope it means that I'm going to get a lot of exercise, pretty much wind up my Christmas obligations and make great strides in the downsizing effort.

Let's see how that plays out!

Life Cycle

I was driving down Jackson Avenue near Mopac a few days ago and saw a vulture trying to get a road kill squirrel out of the street so he'd be safe eating it. The squirrel still looked pretty fresh and the bird kept stepping on his tail.

What else is happening in my world? The city dug a hole in my yard, broke pipes for the sprinkler system and filled up the hole without finding the leak. I'm now suspicious that the leak is under a driveway. The whole futiule destructive affair took all day and the backhoe had a flat tire (which took hours to fix) and then kept dying. They finally got dirt in the hole and put some cones around it. The cones were gone by morning taken, no doubt, by young hooligans. Muddy tennis shoe prints led south.

My mouth problems come and go. Sometimes I feel almost one hundred percent. I have avoided taking any drugs (save alcohol of course) since Sunday.

We went to a party last night at the most amazing house. Good champagne was poured. Excellent food was passed and there was a display of meats, cheeses and patés that was amazing. The house had a library that was as big as the condo I'll move into with a higher ceiling. A ladder rail gave access to the highest of the lovely wood shelves. The house was full of art. The party was to introduce the people doing the 21C Museum Hotel project here. All the museum bigwigs and Heritage society people and lots of other luminaries were there. Can't say how we got invited, but it was worth it to see the beautiful house which is tucked away off a street I travel often. The use of art and native stone made this place a beautiful retreat. While valet parking was a challenge, the house itself absorbed a huge crowd. FFP enjoyed a long talk with Gary Cartwright. At one point we found ourselves in the media room where a trio was entertaining a very few people. Michael Barnes sat down to talk about the difficulty of making all the parties and events he must write about. I wouldn't dream of having to do it like he does. Although I'm often glad to be many of the places I bump into him. I'm always amazed at how many people FFP has written about in his column. Last night we bumped into an artist he'd written about several years ago. I suddenly remembered seeing her work at the house of someone else he'd written about. FFP often has the biographies of the people around us in his brain. That doesn't keep us safe from bumping into someone who seems to know us and know when they met us who doesn't seem familiar at all. Disconcerting.

I had lunch yesterday with a friend of mine who has retired but writes plays. He keeps up with this blog and so I don't have to catch him up too much on what's happening in our usually once a month lunches and we plunge right into weighty discussions.

Stuff of Another Era

I was combing through pictures and found this one from last year about this time at a flea market on Burnet Road. It caught my eye because of the typewriters and slide projectors. Hmmm...I think there are some of those somewhere in this house. Sigh. Right now I'm in an acquisitive mode. But the good news is that all of it is gifts for birthdays and Christmas. So it will be out of here soon. I did tell a few relatives some books that I'd like so there may be an influx of stuff for the holiday. Sigh.

Seeing typewriters is always a little nostalgic for me. I remember when owning a typewriter was a big deal and promised to make a writer out of me.

For the record, it has been easy to post a picture and a little text here every day. (My commitment to NaBloPoMo.) After all...I'm displacing from downsizing!

I'll Never Be a Cook

This is my lunch. As elaborate as the sesame tofu and roasted root vegetables look, don't be fooled. Central Market chefs prepared it. I microwaved a portion. I didn't even shop for it or get it out of the refrigerator! I'm so much not a cook, that I don't even shop for food, usually. No. FFP has to shop for his mother anyway so he usually buys all the groceries. I add a few bulk things from the occasional Costco run.

So my new downsizing mantra is this: all you need for your culinary lifestyle is a good sauce pan (primarily for boiling eggs), a good sauté pan, a microwave, a toaster and lots and lots of glassware. The rest of it can go. Of course, we will keep a few other pots and pans and baking dishes. But, let's be honest about our lifestyle. And, yes, I know about all my determination to cook more in retirement. Let's just say I've gone better at almost every other goal.

Don't Overthink It

My mouth has felt so much better the last couple of days. I still have the occasional dull ache that radiates from around the new crown up into my sinuses. But it is usually so mild now that I wouldn't notice it if I weren't looking for it. Sadly, I have to go to the dentist today for a cleaning and to check out my problems. I feel good enough that I don't want to go! Ah, well. Also the hygienist at my dentist's office has, of late, made me feel like I'd taken a beating. Admittedly it didn't last long. Not like the three months of various problems I've had with this crown thing.

But when you feel good, it's best not to overthink it. Just enjoy. Isn't it funny how, after you've felt a little bad, how good you feel when you don't feel bad anymore. Sort of better than good. And...I haven't had any Ibuprofin since early Monday. A little alcohol, though. I was telling a retired doctor at the gym about my difficulties. "Your dentist probably wouldn't recommend this," he said. "But a martini might help."

[Note: Photo is a detail of a found object art work I bought years ago.]

Jump Starting the Season

Before you could say 'boo' for Halloween, the merchants were trotting out Santa and offering free shipping for online purchases as they ran scared to their all-important season for sales. While it makes me upset to see the tinsel so early, the fact is that I always try to get a jump on the season. I have some November/December birthdays to get out of the way. And I like to ship things early to out-of-town relatives and get my holiday cards done. So I've already got the cards printed and now I just have to cleanse the mailing list, print labels, get stamps, stamp them, write a personal note on each one, etc. I have to get my family calendar updated and get that 'project' printed. And today I started buying those birthday and Christmas presents. Still. I wish they wouldn't put up the decorations so early.

The picture is from last year...with some of the Christmas 'toys' nestled in the glassware collection.