Booked Solid, Dressed Comfortably

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

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

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

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

But I digress from dress to drinking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exploring the Neighborhood

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uncommon Presents

I haven't purchased a single Christmas present. Oh I sent some fairly large checks to Colorado for my sister and brother-in-law and their kids and kids' families to spend on Christmas and December birthdays. And I did buy a bottle of Rosé Champagne for a friend's birthday. But not one present purchased for Christmas and wrapped in red and green or stuck in a Santa gift bag.

I used to buy some small things for some friends, but they've agreed to call a halt to it. When we still had parents alive we'd come up with something for them to unwrap. I usually come up with a wrapped gift (if not a surprise) for Forrest.

This year: nada.

I mean, some years I probably bought scores of gifts. I'd give little goofy presents at work. I bought presents for all my cousins' kids one year, I think. I bought people gadgets and plates and socks and small leather goods and glassware and stationery. I bought people books and journals. I bought calendars for people's special interests. I purchased much gift booze. For several years I sent stocking stuffer gifts to my relatives in Colorado, carefully assembling a load of small surprises for each person.

And now. Nothing.

While not shopping but wandering in a few stores and online sites I've considered things I could have gotten people. A two volume Baedeker's guide to Germany published in the early twentieth century, in German, with lots of amazing tipped in maps for a friend who speaks the language and has spent a lot of time there. Cute Lego toys for my great nephews and great niece. (I didn't even go inside the Lego store in Rockefeller Plaza.) I considered  iPod touches for kids, noting prices and what gift cards were offered with purchase. I considered collapsible water bottles for everyone. (How handy, who couldn't use one?) Tiny lightweight umbrellas from REI like the ones I got myself recently. New varieties of whiskey and various drinks-related accessories at my favorite wine and spirits store.

I bought none of these things.

I'm sorry about the economy. And there is still the chance I'll find something for FFP (maybe I should have gotten those expensive cuff links). Maybe I'll pick up a bottle of something when setting out to be with friends or go to their parties. Or, maybe, I'll have a completely clean slate. A perfect curmudgeonly attitude. Bah. But if it's the thought that counts...I did think about presents.

Images of Myself

Everything revolves around me. Or you. Depending on whether you are me. Or you.

I have theories about things in the world. I concoct those theories them from the perch that is my fairly long, very lucky life. A life with some bumps and curiosities and some pain but, all things considered, very fortunate. I base my world view on things I saw and lessons presented by others that have held up in practice.

When there is big news you measure it against your world. When a gunman took to the UT tower on August 1, 1966 I was, I believe, in Sacramento, California. . My sister had dumped me with the parents of some high school friends and gone (with my car) to see her husband at a temporary USAF assignment. I'd just graduated high school in May. I don't remember much about how the news came or if friends writing me letters  mentioned it. Yes we wrote letters then, on paper, and mailed them.  I know I found out about it, wondered about people I knew in Austin. I know I started college in another Texas city in September without a thought that there would be a sniper on campus.

I do know a few things now about that shooting spree. We didn't have social media and the Internet to follow every development. There was much less detailed news, day after day. My future husband whom I'd not yet met was nearly in the line of fire. SWAT teams were developed all over the country to provide a better intervention than citizens with hunting rifles and a brave but thrown-together team of peace officers and civilians to end the siege. A plaque, no bigger than a foot square commemorates the fallen of 1966, without naming them, near the turtle pond north of the tower. The first on campus victim that day was an unborn child. Very little emotional or financial support was given to the victims and their families.  School was closed for one day. The blood was cleaned off the pavement. The flags flew at half mast on campus for a week while school started again after that one day. I'm pretty sure they didn't fly at half mast anywhere else in the country. President Johnson called for more gun control. Governor Connally did not see a benefit. (I remember the day Connally was shot in 1963, too.)

Whenever I think of guns, I think of the farm where I grew up. We had cows for beef, diary cows, grew cotton and corn. And we had sheep. A wild dog or a coyote could end a lamb's life in a heartbeat. There was no calling 911 to defend our little two bedroom house with the basement where we played and my mom made butter. My dad kept loaded guns on a rack at the back door. A 22 and a shotgun. I remember being allowed to shoot the 22 at a target (well a tin can). Feeling the kick, made to appreciate the power and destructiveness. We were never to touch the guns by ourselves. We were responsible for keeping our friends from touching them. Amazing. I got a BB rifle, too. I had to follow the Daisy Rules of Safety with it. In fact, my dad even corrected us for pointing plastic toy guns at others. I'm betting he wasn't there when the picture to the left was made. I never killed anything. I might have tried for birds with the BB gun. Mostly I shot up cardboard boxes and trees. Ditto with my bow and arrow. Seems crazy now to even have these 'toys.' But I did. And I didn't have a car seat or a seat belt and I rode in the back of pickups. Funny it didn't seem so dangerous as it sounds.

I do understand guns, I think. The message about harm got through. So I don't own one. I'm not a hunter and I don't plan to defend myself with one. When my father died, I thought he'd given away his guns. There was no shotgun but when I found 22 ammunition I knew I'd find a gun. And I did. High out of the reach of children. in his view at least, under a blanket, a loaded 22 rifle. The very one, I suspect, that was racked by the back door fifty years before. My dad was old and sick but I guess he would have tried to get it in a home invasion. Couldn't have come out well, I don't think.

There was a school shooting in Austin not too long after I came here. A teacher died. No one else was shot. Parents had a gun where a child could get it. That classic tale.

I knew a child at Columbine HS on the day of the shooting. He was unharmed.

I find it hard to imagine this world where weapons called assault weapons are used for sport, collected and find their way into the hands of people who somehow believe killing strangers will satisfy a need. My context is so different. Oh, we drew pictures of tanks and machine guns when we doodled as kids and imagined our plastic shoulders rattling off belts of bullets. Growing up post WWII somehow all kids sketched Nazi tanks with swastikas being overrun with US soldiers. The planes had dotted lines of tracers and bullets. The stories were in the air in that decade after the war and had entered our DNA it seemed.

My experience tells me that guns are powerful. That children don't learn to respect them in many families today and that there is too much access to them and that the assault weapons are better confined to the abstract of children's doodles, to video games and to the reality of war. (Unless we could end war. Yeah.) My experience tells me that some always respond to the latest incident of school shooting, theater shooting, mall shooting, P.O. shooting (remember those?) with some resolve to 'never let it happen again.'  We blame a tumor, parents, God, a lack of gods, mental illness, the guns themselves, workplace woes, romantic woes, bullying. We think we can fix everything but experience shows that we can't. Not that we shouldn't try. But some tries will be wildly misguided. And something else tragic will happen.

All I know is this: I will never be the shooter. Or the source of the weapon. I hope that's true. Especially now that I've given away that 22 I found, loaded, under that blanket in that closet.

Looking into the past...

[Photo is shot through a nice glass of white wine at the MOMA sculpture garden in New York City. That's Picasso's goat you can see. If some outdoor furniture weren't in the way you could see the, um, backside. Something like this, shot when having a fine meal at a restaurant, with the atmosphere of this view, the wine drinking in the middle of the day, is a moment that can be recalled easily by the fuzzy photo.]

I read in the NY Times today about apps that package up your prior social media posts and return them to you some time later. Studying one's past in this way is interesting. I was reminded of my occasional forays into old online blogs, written journals, souvenirs, letters or piles of photos. Even old receipts and budgets and checks can dredge up the memory machine. Back you go...to another place and time that often seems familiar but sometimes seems strange.

I picked a little notebook out of my piles today. Inside are notes from 2003 and 2006. There's the description of a day with Dad when we go to someone's memorial service (I don't know whose it was) and then travel to Dallas to visit his relatives. There's the description of a dream where my dad and I plummet off a cliff in his van and I wake up before we hit bottom. (I don't remember this dream or even writing it down.) There are notes from the anniversary trip FFP and I took to Paris. It seems to be about me and yet it's so distant, so separate. I read about visits I barely remember and encounters that I don't remember. (Do the others remember them?) This time is also covered by online entries. The 2006 ones are in the transition to Blogger. A lot is there but it's all very confusing. I'm glad I have the records, but they also overwhelm me. Things happen faster than I can absorb them. But what if I took it all to heart? Our forgetting is part of our mental health. The time I explored today included a friend's death and the diagnosis of another friend with a serious cancer. Time is supposed to make things easier. But perhaps only if you don't remember...or read your old journals.

So, no, I don't think I'll sign up to be automatically reminded of my social media posts. I think I'll make myself make an effort to dredge that stuff up.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

There was a time when I wanted many material things. As a kid I couldn't walk through the Five and Dime or peruse the Sears Christmas Catalog without having a long list of things I'd love to have. Even ten or fifteen years ago I'd have a fairly easy time making a list of things I wanted. Not now.

Lots of people gifted me things to do with tennis over the years. And I do still play and enjoy it. But now I have a racket I like and I've gotten  new grips and strings as needed. I have a bag for carrying my stuff. Hats, shorts, shirts, a pretty new pair of tennis shoes, plenty of socks. No tennis gadgets, figurines, calendars or funny T-Shirts required. One of the best presents I ever got was a tennis ball basket gadget that holds and picks up balls. However, I eventually gave it away because I belong to a tennis club now and these can be borrowed and also I never just go out and practice but rather play with others.

I'd like some new clothes. But finding what I want is the issue. I'd go get some custom-made if I wasn't so lazy and so afraid I wouldn't wear them out before I got my money's worth. (The ones I had made when I worked have seen better days.) But I can get by with what I have and no one, not even Santa, could pick something for me.

I am overrun with computers and gadgets demanding my attention. FFP thought about buying a really good camera but, honestly, the ones we have are good enough for what we do, I think. We have a TV in every room.

I have plenty of books and just need to spend more time reading.

I have plenty of food and drink. My niece sent some goodies from iGourmet. That will be sufficient to delight with some new tastes for a couple of weeks.

So really. Send nothing, Santa. Get some warm clothes for people who live in the cold country. Bring peace of mind to the crazies and those they've victimized. Get some toys for kids whose parents can't afford them. Leave food for the hungry. Give us some reasonable and sane laws from our government for a change.

It is fun to desire something and experience the excitement of getting it. It is nice to have a hunger satisfied. But when you only want time and peace of mind, you aren't likely to get it.

Yours,
Linda

What Are You Reading?

I have piles of books. Books I've read. Books FFP has read. Books we've both read. And many neither of us have even started. These, however, are not ours and were on one of the bookshelves in Tatzu Nishi's Columbus living room. I intentionally shot and cropped it to show the pages and obvious signs of someone reading them. Virginia Woolf, Doris Lesing, Bob Dylan, etc. How were they chosen?

We bought three books at Book People day before yesterday. One off the remainder table about the Dallas Cowboys. Another is about WW II and D-Day. Another is about Leonard Cohen's song "Hallelujah". There is a biography out about him, too, but this book is just about the song. FFP is reading that first one as I write.

I mentioned to FFP yesterday that we had no plans for Christmas Day. He said, "It's a shame because we don't have anything to read." Ha. We do have one wrapped present. It's from him to me. It looks like a book. It definitely is since I know he got it at Book People.

I have trouble keeping up with my newspapers. Not because I read them all that thoroughly but because I stop to work puzzles or read one or two articles completely. And I always feel like I should dispense with the newspapers before I read a book although I almost always read part of a book before falling asleep when I go to bed. And I often read a book on an airplane.

I need to read more and spend less time on the computer. I hope Columbus got a little reading done while he was allowed to have a living room and books. He's all alone again, up there on his pedestal in the cold, with nothing to read at night when the city snoozes a little.

Decorations of Red

This photo was taken back in November at the annual Settlement Home Garage Sale. They always have a huge selection of Christmas stuff.

In our apartment there are no decorations save the few holiday cards we have received and one lonely bendable posable Santa. (One year I brought all his friends out of storage and he got left behind when they were returned.)

No one will be coming around here looking for decoration. We are not having a party. We haven't even invited anyone here for a drink. (We've got a few dates at restaurants and parties to attend.) I'd have to get busy and dust and vacuum to have serious company.

As the song says: "Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree won't be the same without you here with me." I'm not sure who would need to show up to put me in a decorating mode. But I'm pretty sure my enthusiasm for it all died with my mom ten years ago. Here is a picture I posted four years ago, taken in 1978, that shows her working on a homemade decoration. Mom unabashedly loved Christmas and you couldn't help yourself...you were drug along.

Star of My Story

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

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

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

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

Missed Deadline

Yes, I'm doing Holidailies. It's been almost forty-eight hours since I posted. Not exactly 'daily.' I thought about it yesterday. I edited this picture yesterday to use it. I thought about writing something last night. But I didn't. Is there a twelve step program for being a blogging laggard?

Of course, it doesn't matter. I can even achieve the badge of honor on Holidailies (the maximum number by your name) by squeezing in some entries that are not quite twenty-four hours apart. (Or that used to work on the old Holidailies.) And, really, the whole thing is an exercise. It's important to go through the motions in life but you can always cheat a little bit, huh?

When we were taking pictures of the holiday windows in NYC, I was surprised to see that this one still had someone touching up the icicles blocking the elegantly-dressed mannequin in the winter wonderland. But things don't always get done on time, do they? Some things are critical, some aren't. In my world, if I get to my agreed on appointments on time, there is always another day to do chores and such, it seems. If you are lucky. There are bills that need to be paid on time and holiday cards will look silly after the 15th of January I suppose. There are consequences. I've sent about twenty cards so far, I think. Trying to at least keep up with returning the favor on the ones I receive.

Certainly work posed many, many more deadlines. When I worked for a living. Over ten years ago.

But. My life is not devoid of deadlines. The most dreaded ones loom: tax deadlines. I hate taxes. I hate paying them, of course. But I also hate the mounds of paper and the incomprehensible forms (even though my CPA figures out what boxes things go in). Congress and the President are currently contemplating unknown changes that will doubtless not only complicate things further, but throw several monkey wrenches in how we planned to fund our retirement. It makes this old lady weary. I believe the uncertainty is, itself, affecting the economy. It certainly affects my spending and giving to charities and plans for the future. All the looming tax deadlines almost spoil the festive holiday feeling. (That and the winter allergy attacks from 'cedar fever' triggered by pollinating mountain juniper.)

But here's a Holidailies entry. There's that done.

Strangers Make the World Go Round

I've been sitting here hand-addressing holiday cards and, in many cases, writing a hand-written note to enclose with the 4x8 photo cards I ordered from Snapfish. Very old school communication with people that, for some reason, we know. I have decided to avoid pre-printed labels and even the return address stamp. Sure I may introduce errors but who gets hand-addressed communications these days? (Except those that are faked up with special fonts.)

But most of our world is propelled by relative strangers, by people who manufacture, package, drive, deliver, build, connect, repair, etc. And much of our entertainment comes from the people we don't know who walk through our world. As I mentioned on December 3, I enjoy watching people at home and when traveling who just happen by where I am.

In the picture above FFP chats with a woman who walked by the Berdorf Goodman window we were photographing it. I'd backed up for a picture and I caught, instead of the window in full, the two of them exchanging a pleasantry  I don't know what was said. If I'd spoken to her I might have said, "I love that coat!" But I did not. I'll will probably never know who she is and what her path through this world looks like.

I have for a long time been fascinated by the people in my travel photos who are total strangers. People who happen to be in the frame and then, most likely, are never encountered again. Their existence for me is tenuous and yet there they were in the same place in the space/time continuum.

Many Mes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Secret Addiction

Lego. If there is one toy (or really an endless toy system) that can stir my childish heart then it is the one with all those almost indestructible plastic interlocking bricks. They didn't figure into my childhood because the company didn't really hit their stride in the construction toy market in the U.S. until the 1970's. I made do with Tinker Toys, Lincoln Logs and an Erector Set. Cousins of mine, eight and ten years younger, had an American-made knock-off called American Plastic bricks. They were not as sturdy or interesting.

When I traveled around Europe aimlessly in 1972 I went to lots of toy stores. There were some amazing construction toys but even then in Europe there were no giant Lego displays and the brand was not the dominant player it is today. On my recent trip to New York City I refrained from going inside toy stores although I shot some pictures of the windows of the Lego Store in Rockefeller Center like the one above. I have made FFP go into the Times Square Toys 'R Us before to see the giant buildings and figures made from Lego. But during the Christmas season I wouldn't do that.

I still have the urge to buy a Lego set and put it together occasionally. But I've successfully resisted it for years. Five years ago I wrote about the Lego collection I put together and then let go. I guess there are topics I keep returning to, huh? The silly ones.

The Best Gift

I just noticed that today's Holidailies writing prompt is 'What is the best thing you ever received for the holidays?' I had just edited the picture above with the intent of using it for a piece with the boring title 'Shopping.' This is one of the 'jewel' windows at Berdorf Goodman in New York City. For the holidays they have little doll-like mannequins offsetting the jeweled baubles. Personally I don't have or want much jewelry but isn't this a lovely picture? Yours truly is reflected with her handy digital camera. One of probably six or seven digital cameras I've owned. None were gifts.

But one of my best gifts was a camera. I was in my teens and I was dying for a Polaroid Land Camera 100 with chrome and leather trim. You could get one for probably $120 1960's dollars. A lot of money. (A little inflation calculator I found indicated that it would probably be equivalent to around $900 today.) You could also get one for a bazillion books of S&H green stamps. My mom let me have her stash and I continued getting hers at the grocery store and pasting them in books. My grandmother gave me hers. I had nowhere near enough. I had maybe a dozen books. The camera required 40 or 50. My mom talked me out of the stamps, reasoning that other nice gifts could be obtained. I was crushed that I wouldn't get the camera. It was way out of range for a present back then. But on Christmas morning there it was. I took probably thousands of pictures with it. My folks gifted me portrait and close-up lenses. I was always using babysitting money for film.. My nieces, born in '68 and '70 after I was out of high school, were endlessly photographed with this camera and the originals and copies of these are cherished possessions around the family. (We used to mail the originals to Polaroid. On the adhesive backing they provided was an order form. They'd reprint the photo in different sizes.) Here's my youngest niece, just sitting up in 1970.

Yes the camera was wonderful and quite a coup to get and, unlike so many other things, the pleasure lasted a long time. I took it to college. I had it at the ready for many family gatherings. I'd stand there, posing people and then deftly snapping out the developing print and guarding it until it was dry. There was much chemical waste. And those flashbulbs that popped and crackled and heated up, only avoiding exploding fragments because of a plastic-like film over the glass. I kept the camera long after it was functional for sentimental reasons. When I downsized I gave it away to a Freecycle contact who wrote later that he'd repaired the bellows and made it work again. Of course, film is problematic although there is a group that bought Polaroid's factory machines and was attempting to make it available again.

But if the camera was my favorite gift, I'm pretty sure the Christmas when I was nine years old was my best overall Christmas coup. I wanted an Erector set. And I got the best one imaginable. It had an electric motor and it was the Rocket Launcher set and it had a picture of a 1950's little boy operating the rocket launcher he'd built. I was a wily little girl and when I picked this Erector Set out of the Sears catalog, I also picked a gift that would be considered educational and unisex: a metal world globe with little Disney characters in costume. And, yes, when we returned to school and were asked to say what we gotten for Christmas that we really liked (how politically and socially incorrect that would be these days) I talked about my new globe. I still have the Erector set. The globe went to a charity when I graduated from high school I think. I kind of miss owning it and still look on eBay for one now and then.

These days I don't want for anything. I don't have a Christmas list and, hopefully, I won't get too many presents. When I want something, I usually just buy it. While we were in NYC we looked in many shop windows but only entered a few stores. Our only purchases were two books at our favorite Manhattan indie bookstore. But I still remember the excitement of not having something, of wanting it for a long time and then finally receiving something that really did, in the end, please me to own. That's tough to achieve, I think.

Does This Room Make Me Look Fat?

I mentioned thid Tatzu Nishi art project surrounding the Columbus statue of the eponymous Columbus Circle  in New York City with a living room in an earlier post. You could climb up to it on several flights of stairs. When you got up there Chris dominated a room with couches, a flat screen TV, bookshelves with books, some other furniture and kitschy wallpaper depicting American iconic topics such as Mickey Mouse, hot dogs and baseball. 

I like things like this that change a place into an artwork. We made a special trip to see Christo and Jeanne-Claude's Gates in Central Park. When I first read about this opportunity to climb up here with Columbus it was to end in the middle of November. They extended it and we were able to see it, but it was only extended because of the disruption caused by super storm Sandy. Life is random, isn't it? And now...it's gone again, I believe, ending last weekend.

Home for the Holidailies

It's Day 5 of Hoidailies. I arrived back in Austin in the wee hours of this morning. But I managed to post four times while I was on a majorly decadent vacation in New York City. Will have to go back and see what those posts look like. The picture is a reflection of us in a Christmas display on Madison Avenue. We were headed to eat at one star Michelin meal restaurant The Modern.

It's nice to be home, of course. Disappointing that the maid won't be by to tidy up, but nice to have all your computers and tools and sartorial choices and stuff around. We stayed in a ridiculously expensive hotel. But no hotel will ever have the satellite system we have or the DVRs handy. Oh, sure there was a little TV imbedded in the bathroom mirror where you could watch CNN while you brushed your teeth. And the thread counts and mattress quality was over the moon. And the shower and tub beats ours big time. The maid would leave the TV on the smooth jazz station when she turned down the room, though. Ugh. And we love the la crema coffee the Nespresso machine made but we couldn't seem to get enough of the most robust pods to suit us. And when will they learn to bring us more hangers? (Although, to their credit they did detach from the rod! And they brought more when we asked.)

So...yeah, one day hotels will figure out how to make it just like home, only more so. Maybe. But I digress.

We are home for the holidays. FFP is very involved with Ballet Austin and its "Nutcracker" production this time of year. We've said yes to a few holiday parties. I will send some holiday cards. (And enjoy receiving some.) FFP and I will exchange presents. (He already got me one so I have to find something for him.) I don't think I'm going to do much decoration. Or serious celebration. Although the bendable, posable Santas and other Christmas figures may make an appearance if I feel like digging around in my storage cage. And we'll eat at some nice restaurants and wander through the hotels and see their decor.

I do look forward to some days when nothing is happening and I can sit down and read newspapers and books and take long walks around the neighborhood. We do plan to travel next year but we haven't made a single reservation. And, of course, my most hated time of the year looms after the holidays. Tax time.

Maybe I'll recount our NYC trip in the next few entries. It will bore you terrifically if you don't care for fine dining, jazz, museums, cabaret music, a Mamet play and strange NYC encounters.

Little Things

One thing I love about travel is the tiny observations and happenings that come your way. I need to post something now since tomorrow we have to pack up and travel back to Austin. So I'm going to just list a few of these things.

-- I love to take pictures of people looking at art or even shooting pictures of art. (As in the picture below of FFP and "The Scream.”) I didn't invent this. The NY Times runs photos of works in galleries with onlookers all the time. Still. It's interesting.

-- They have sidewalk Christmas tree lots in Manhattan. With some pretty big trees. I didn't notice this last year at this time when we visited. Not sure why. One of the New Yorkers we visited with was eager to buy one. She was going to have to buy in her own hood, though and get help to lug it home.

-- The cabs here have the shield number as a license plate number. Has it always been so? Why didn't I ever notice?

-- It seems that a lot of shoe stores are showing shoes with spikes like dog collars in the comics. But darned if I could spot any New Yorkers wearing such. I actually saw these spikes on a phone case in a shop window, too!

I am perhaps too easily entertained, right?

People

One of my favorite things about travel is people. Well, of course, you say. Who would want to arrive in New York or Paris and find lonely, empty streets with a few pieces of trash wafting in the wind?

So, yes, glad to see the cab drivers, bellmen, deliverymen, sales people, waiters, chefs, desk clerks, etc.

But I like meeting up with friends in a place I don't live. And I like meeting new people, travelers or strangers.

When we arrived in New York a little after noon last Tuesday, we had no plans or reservations until the next day. After getting checked into the hotel we got a table at Ai Fiori in our hotel and had a leisurely lunch with a glass of wine. We heard the people next to us talking about Austin. The guy left first and as the woman gathered her things and paid the bill FFP told her he couldn't help but overhear the conversation about our hometown. We knew several of the same people because she'd studied and worked in Austin. She lives in the residences above our hotel. We immediately became friends (FFP said he had seven or eight mutual Facebook friends with her when he connected later) and that evening she joined us, with her partner briefly, for drinks in the bar of the hotel. Also joining us was an artist friend who lives in Austin and Williamsburg in Brooklyn. We'd bumped into her and several other people we knew on the plane. So impromptu drinks, introducing a brand new friend to an old friend. Heaven to me.

We arranged meet-ups with other people this last week. Drinks with a couple who lived in our building but moved and now live in Phoenix and San Diego. They were just in New York to see lights and some shows. We had lunch, visited the Whitney and shopped the Upper East Side with another friend who lives in the Village and the Hamptons. We were joined by friends we've known for three decades who live in a suburb and some young Upper West Siders for brunch. We met up with Austin friends at a cabaret show at 54 Below. We dined twice with friends who live in New Jersey and were in the city. We had a nice talk with a friend who is a manager at a fine dining restaurant and she got us a peek at the kitchen. Tonight is her night off and we may meet for drinks.

And then there are the people you don't know. And never will. Yesterday we had brunch with friends in SoHo and saw a dance performance at the Joyce and dined at a favorite haunt in the Village and saw a jazz show at the Village Vanguard. It was all great fun, but I also enjoyed the time we spent having a drink perched in the window of a tiny Mexican restaurant watching people walk down 7th in the Village. What are they wearing? What are the carrying? Young? Old? Who might they be? Endless walk-on actors in life's movie.

Great shows and food. No excursion buses or trips to the top of the Empire State building. But the people!

The picture was shot by FFP on his iPhone. It is Dot, a lovely woman selling books at Crawford-Doyle Booksellers on the Upper East Side. Each trip we trek to this tiny, iconic store and, if we are lucky, Dot is working and contributes to the selection of a couple of books that we buy.

Life is Good

My Dad used to say "it's a good life if you don't weaken." I always took this to mean that fun took its toll, too, and required you to stay in shape. Later in life he did weaken and he had to restrict his drinking and didn't feel up to the travel he loved.

What I enjoy most in life is probably eating and drinking. Oh I love theater, jazz, ballet, museums, walking, people watching.

But it's the eating and drinking that will be most curtailed as the flesh weakens, I think.

So far, more or less, so good.

Last night we got to dine at the 50-year-old New York City Institution La Grenouille. Reservations are hard to get especially when folks are visiting for holiday shopping and viewing the decorations. Our friend is a regular and he got the reservation.

Intent on making our way through the dense holiday crowds ogling department store windows and the Rockefeller Center tree without being late to meet our friends, we arrived about fifteen minutes early. I ordered a Manhattan at the tiny bar in the beautiful room. (That's the picture below. I wouldn't be so touristy to bring a camera or take more fuzzy iPhone 3GS shots.) An older woman, speaking French, picked holiday baubles from a box on the bar. Turned out she was having a holiday dinner and I saw the gentlemen helping her carefully strew them on her eight top that was next to us.

The room, the service, the French food were all amazing. I didn't know if the restaurant itself would be a dowager, having seen better times but with aging patrons imbuing it with their former ideas of it. The patrons did seem to be aging but every detail of food and service was wonderful. I'd heard about this place forever and was thrilled to dine here and have the strength for some lovely wine (Duckhorn Merlot) and rich French organ meat dishes and even a soufflé.

I realize this is not everyone's life. I decided that I would not only write every day for holidays but would read other blogs from the Holidailies site. I know people struggle with budget limitations and physical ones. I know I'm lucky to have this time with money and some stamina. I remember when this wasn't my life. Sometimes I think it's all slipping away because it surely is doing so. For someone whose bucket list is mostly drawn from dining guides, this was definitely a check mark, though. It's a good life. You know. If you're up to it.

Been There, Done That, Got the Souvenirs, got Rid of Them

I'm on a trip to New York City. I like to travel or, actually, I like to be some place else, staying in a hotel, selfishly focused only on my own pleasure. I'm not crazy about airport security although I'm pretty tolerant of the getting there aspect of travel especially if there are no delays.

There was a time when I was checking places off my list. Seeing what was supposed to be seen. Now I'm happy to return to old haunts. To be reasonably familiar with a place. To walk past the guys hawking tickets to the Empire State building or bus tours and go to a favorite restaurant. I don't need to take home a T-Shirt, refrigerator magnet or a little replica of anything. Oh...I've done that. When we downsized some of my souvenirs were given away. Don't miss them.

The photo is taken from the 4th level of Time Warner Center looking at Columbus Circle. That's the statue of Columbus in fact. He is temporarily covered with a 'living room' which is accessible to the public. It's an art project by Tatzu Nishi called "Discovering Columbus."Today we have timed tickets to look the old Italian in the eye. It will be gone soon like Christo installations and the holiday windows we are enjoying on Fifth Avenue. I like photos that are stuck in a certain time although of timeless things.

Well, that's me for today trying to do Holidailies remotely. I love the old familiar feel of this Year's portal. Cheers to Jette and Chip. Last year when we visited NYC around this time we had a breakfast meet-up with Jette who was visiting, too. That's another thing I like about travel...meet-ups, planned and unplanned. More on that tomorrow perhaps. I have to go look Chris in the eye.

New York, NY

A temporary (?) sculpture of Andy Warhol. Near Union Square. Manhattan, New York City. I am testing the Blogger app on mu iPad. Expect something of more import in December.

Zoey: January 13, 1998-September 4, 2012

I called Zoey my god dog because I knew her all her life and her mom (owner) and I went on many adventures with my last dog, Chalow. When she was still a small pup with big feet, not yet grown into the regal yet goofy standard poodle she would become, she would plop down on her hindquarters during walks and look at us as if to say 'what are we doing?' Once she discovered squirrels and her legs grew out she pranced along, sometimes starting up every sidewalk or drive. She could jump up very high from a standing start and the huntress she felt she was tested the collar and lead when something would move in the bushes. The happy picture above is from 2002 with one of the many hairdos she sported over the years.

Here's her obituary from my friend:

As most of you know about a year ago Zoey was diagnosed with cancer. For the last year she has been taking an anti-cancer drug and Prednisone and has been doing fair. Over the past couple of weeks her back legs have been slipping out from under her more and more. Often I would actually have to lift her back up because she couldn't get traction on the hardwood floor. Sometimes she would shiver even when it wasn't cold which is a sign a dog might be in pain. She made valiant efforts to hide her weakening condition but several times I let her outside and would notice her just standing in the yard, not looking around, just standing. 

Recently it was so obvious that she was in decline that I finally decided to let her go. This past Tuesday, September 4, 2012, around 12:35pm I sat by her side while the vet gave her sedatives and she passed gently on. Zoey was born on January 13, 1998 so she was 14 years 7 months and 22 days old which is a pretty good run for a big dog. 

About 2 months ago I knew we were approaching the end because I opened the door to let her out and 5 feet in front of her was a squirrel on the ground. In her youth Zoey would leap off the top of 6 steps, pompomed tail in the air, running full blast across the yard trying to catch a squirrel 50 feet away and already half way up a tree. This time she leaned forward for a moment and I thought she were going to take off once more; but she stopped as if finally accepting that she wasn't going to catch this one either. She couldn't muster that last burst of energy to fly off the step and try for the 100th time in vain to catch a squirrel, so it was clear her joy of life had changed. In life she never succeeded, but I know all dogs go to heaven which is full of squirrels; and I hear they actually catch 'em. 

Rest in peace, Zoey Ray of Sunshine, Pedigreed Black Standard Poodle born in Gholson, Texas; one of a litter of 13 adopted at the age of 8 weeks old. Living life at full throttle for almost 15 years.

The Packing List Revelations

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Playing a Film Critic on Blogger

Well, it's goodbye to South By. There was a light show on Frost Bank during the festival (above). And we saw films. No music. No panels (not even film ones which we could have seen). Just screenings. Plus a brief walk throught the trade show and one non-SXSW party.

We went to six venues, all very close by foot: Alamo Ritz, Convention Center (Vimeo branded theater), Rollins at Long Center (Canon branded theater), Paramount, State (called 'Stateside' for some reason) and the Violet Crown. We saw plenty of strangeness on the streets, heard the dull roar from Auditorium Shores and other outdoor venues even from the inside of the condo. We retreated often to said condo for refreshment, rest and a few necessary chores.

I learned long ago that I'm not a good critic. Not of books, not of restaurants. (I'm always 'Wow. Best. Meal. Ever.' without the details of the ingredients. "I think there was foie gras and caviar in there somewhere....") Doubly so movies where I just watch and miss lots of things like homage to this film maker or political reference. I have to look up the people to see what else they've been a part of film-wise, otherwise. But, in spite of this failing, I like to recap the movies I saw. Let's just not call it criticism. This is mostly for me to remember when and where I saw something. But if you want to read along, especially if you like documentaries, feel free. Also, people are always asking what we did during the festival. Now I can give them a link.

These are the films. We bought badges early and 'only' paid about $17/per movie.

The movie: The Announcement

What it was about: Magic Johnson, especially his 1991 announcement that he had the HIV virus

Why we saw it: It was a documentary. The blurb made it sound fascinating as history. We'd been interested in the fight against HIV/Aids for a long time and that's our primary 'health and human services' cause.

What we thought after seeing it: Wow. Magic narrated the film! His wife gave some great and heartfelt interviews. We've come a long way in the fight but there is still lots of education needed. Man, he was the greatest basketball player ever. (Great game footage.) And: even he was met with discrimination. Very well-formed doc with a wide range of images from pre-announcement to modern day.

Where can you see it: Now playing on ESPN (it's an ESPN movie).

The movie: Jeff

What it was about: About Jeffrey Dahmer's arrest and its effect on the authorities and the community.

Why we saw it: It was a documentary. Forrest likes true crime especially when it explores the law enforcement puzzles and the effect of the crime on the community.

What we thought after seeing it: Use of re-enactment was unsettling but because they only used it to show interactions with people, um, alive to describe it, it was useful. The detective, Patrick Kennedy, was particularly upended by his involvement and his interviews were honest and direct.

Where can you see it: No idea, but maybe follow the WEB.

The movie: The Central Park Effect

What it was about: About the birds and bird watchers in Central Park.

Why we saw it: It was a documentary. We love NYC. A friend's uncle made the film.

What we thought after seeing it: A pitch perfect movie on this topic. Beautiful nature photography. Fantastic personal profiles. People were buzzing that Jonathan Franzen was in the movie, but we were actually more fascinated with some of the other bird watchers.

Where can you see it: Enter your e-mail here to find out.

The movie: Tchoupitoulas

What it was about: Documenting how a child sees New Orleans.

Why we saw it: It was a documentary (yes, we like docs) and we had previously enjoyed "45365" by the Ross brothers and they made this movie.

What we thought after seeing it: Achieved its goal. The children were charming, especially the youngest boy. Lots of meandering and handheld but great footage to dig into NOLA from a child's point of view. In the Q&A, the Ross brothers said they'd been in New Orleans as kids and tried to make this movie from a child's point of view. After the young brothers in the movie happened by the house where the Rosses were living in New Orleans one day, they chased them down and used them to focus the movie. With that touch, success. Without it, I'm not so sure.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: (really TV show premiere): Girls

What it was about: Four friends fighting to survive with their dreams in New York City in the confusing period between college and actual adulthood.

Why we saw it: We enjoyed the movie Lena Dunham made (Tiny Furniture) even though we couldn't relate to the character. (Having graduated college too many decades ago.) We'd been following her on Twitter since as she navigated the adventure of getting an HBO series. They showed three episodes for this SXSW screening.

What we thought after seeing it: A funny and poignant look at the way some young ladies live. Lena's character is self-deprecating and lovable. The other characters are of a type that you recognize. NYC locations fun, too. We'll probably watch it.

Where you can see it: HBO premiere April 15.

The movie: In Our Nature

What it was about: A father and his grown son show up to use a lake cabin with their girlfriends the same weekend. This was the first narrative piece we saw in the festival, apart from the TV sitcom. I'll bet some people only see narratives. This is why everyone's SXSW movie festival is so very different.

Why we saw it: FFP picked it from the description, I think, figuring it would be a character-driven piece. And it was to some degree.

What we thought after seeing it: What if Matt Saracen was Roger Sterling's kid instead of that guy running away from family responsibilities by joining the army, leaving the kid with a grandmother with dementia to care for? (In other words, Zach Gifford's role in "Friday Night Lights.") What if he'd grown up in relative privilege with that steamy, seething artistic nature? Oh, wait. Fiction. It is hard for me to separate the bad boy elder statesman of "Mad Men" and the artistic quarterback with the finely-tuned moral compass from the actors playing them. Not really. But they were almost playing the same characters only the youngster had more choices. He still steamed and seethed and longed to be creative. I honestly didn't get beyond my stereotypes for these characters and the ladies playing the girlfriends didn't really stand out in their roles either. Gabrielle Union convinced me she was pretty and young and a strong woman. I was never convinced she would partner with Roger, er, Gil, however.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: Francine

What it was about: A woman is released from prison and tries to find a comfortable place in the world.

Why we saw it: I think FFP chose it because Melissa Leo was in it. In the future, however, we may choose films because Brian M. Cassidy and Melanie Shatzky wrote or directed them.

What we thought after seeing it: Immediately after seeing it I was nonplussed. I wanted to know why this woman had gone to prison in the first place. I was puzzled about her behavior. I wanted more things explained. I think both FFP and I came to see the piece eventually as it was intended. You were supposed to be outside the woman's experience. She was not going to explain herself to you. But you eventually realized that she required confinement and a certain kind of authority. I was reminded of the film "Temple Grandin" and the way the eponymous title character discovered ways of confinement that calmed animals and also herself as an autistic person.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: Trash Dance

What it was about: A choreographer, Allison Orr, decides to do a dance piece with employees of the Austin Solid Waste Department and their machinery.

Why we saw it: It's a documentary and it was getting a lot of buzz from people we met in lines and it was Austin stuff.

What we thought after seeing it: It did a great job letting us get to know the people who provide this service. It really did seem like dance. Perhaps the performance itself, as presented in the movie, was a little more tedious than the rest of the movie, but this one is something different. Original music by Graham Reynolds, now Austin's treasured composer, didn't hurt. It made me understand my youngest great nephew who is five and is (or was fairly recently) completely transfixed by the guys who pick up the trash at his house.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: Slacker 2011

What it was about: Random encounters in Austin, Texas directed scene by scene by 24 directors with a script following Richard Linklater's orginal "Slacker".

Why we saw it: We had missed seeing this in the screenings Austin Film Society had. We saw the original at the Paramount with much of the cast of that one. We like seeing Austin scenes even though the jump cuts from place to place (in both films) are disorienting.

What we thought after seeing it: Enjoyed seeing the places around town. Including a corner just outside of our place. But the original is the original.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: The Last Fall

What it was about: A narrative about an NFL player toiling at the edge of the sport who is cut and goes home to confront the possibility of life after football.

Why we saw it: The plot seemed a bit different.

What we thought after seeing it: A little bit of soap opera but not too bad an effort. It was more about family and truly growing up than football which was a good thing. The movie was haunted by the death of the film maker's parents a little bit. (His mother, who died in May, was given a dedication. He indicated before this showing that he'd just found out his father had died.) Matthew Cheery (writer, director, etc.) obviously has a talent for film and I would take a chance on another of his works.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: Beauty is Embarrassing

What it was about: A documentary about artist, animator, puppeteer, sculptor Wayne White.

Why we saw it: Love docs. Love docs about artists.

What we thought after seeing it: Loved it. Great footage of a variety of work. Interesting family perspective (of both Wayne's wife, Mimi Pond, and their kids and Wayne's parents). Pee Wee Herman a plus, too.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: Searching for Sugar Man

What it was about: A documentary about a seventies folk rocker, Sixto Rodriguez, and his unlikely fame far away from his Detroit life.

Why we saw it: Love docs. Heavily recommended by someone in line.

What we thought after seeing it: A most amazing film, presented like a mystery story and enhanced by the wonderful, forgotten (in the U.S.) music. See it. Buy the tunes. I loved the Cape Town footage, too.

Where can you see it: After a breakout success at Sundance, Sony Classics picked up. Watch for a theatrical release. I would watch it again.

The movie: Mustafa's Sweet Dreams

What it was about: Allegedly a documentary about a kid who wants to master making baklava.

Why we saw it: We like docs. Seemed like this one might be something different.

What we thought after seeing it: We thought this was our worst choice of the festival. It didn't seem like a documentary. It was boring and did not ring true. The camera work on the making of the baklava was the best part. There was a little expose of the child labor and misogynistic attitudes around the story but it read, in the end, like an after school special and not a very good one and certainly not a documentary.

Where can you see it: No clue. And don't recommend it.

The movie: Under African Skies

What it was about: A documentary about Paul Simon and his collaborations with South African musicians.

Why we saw it: We like docs. I'm interested in South Africa. We like Graceland.

What we thought after seeing it: Good job of documenting the music (album, performances) and the players (musicians as well as politicians and activists) and the history. I saw Mariam Mekeba live on my 2005 visit to Cape Town before her death (2008). Would have been stellar if she'd been alive for the reunion tour.

Where can you see it: No idea, but watch for it.

The movie: Brooklyn Castle

What it was about: A Brooklyn school has a tremendous chess program which enriches the lives of students struggling to break out of poverty and attend good high schools and get into college.

Why we saw it: We like docs. Though childless, we are interested in helping groups that provide enhancement to public education.

What we thought after seeing it: Enjoyed 'meeting' the kids and the teachers. Thought the pace was a little contemplative but, well, it was about chess!

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: Sunset Strip

What it was about: The history of the clubs and lives along Sunset Boulevard in the area between Beverly Hills and Hollywood know as "the Strip".

Why we saw it: We like docs. We'd just been to LA and, in fact, stayed a block from the Whiskey A Go Go.

What we thought after seeing it: Great survey. Coup getting all these people on film and all archival stuff.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: Gregory Crewdson, Brief Encounters

What it was about: Documenting art photographer Gregory Crewdson staging his large narrative photos.

Why we saw it: We like docs. We like docs about artists. While in LA, FFP had picked up a book of these photos and marveled at them when we visited a great indie store, Book Soup. Before that, we'd never heard of Gregory. We couldn't believe our luck when we saw this in the SXSW schedule.

What we thought after seeing it: Fantastic doc of the process. After a lot of handheld camera work showing the settings, setup, all the set decoration and direction I loved it when the camera lingered over the high quality still print.

Where can you see it: No clue. But if you get a chance do see it.

Yep, that was our SXSW 2012. We only regretted one choice. We learned about some music and art we weren't that familiar with and met fascinating people (several in line waiting to see shows). In fact, in line we met a woman who had interests similar to mine about WWII and who had actually written a screenplay. I've already been privileged to read that. I bought a Rodriguez album on my iPhone. And we think we will buy Gregory Crewdson's book over at Book People. We are culturally enhanced, I guess.

Curating a Life

I am fascinated by those collections at places like Harry Ransom Center at UT where all the books, papers, manuscripts, ephemera and claptrap of a life is carefully handled (with white gloves), organized, indexed and stored in acid-free boxes and such. That's the treatment someone like Norman Mailer gets. I would call to your attention that the center has perserved the invitations and attendance list for his fiftieth birthday party. I myself have ephemera from my fiftieth birthday party. But I doubt it will ever be curated.

For most of us, if we don't curate our lives then no one will. On the other hand, who will actually care about it but us? Even if I had kids I don't think they would care. So what's the point? Does it matter that you can't remember where you were twenty years ago or what unpublished writings you were creating? Does it matter that many of your photos are unlabeled and the people and places in them unidentified. What has even been the point of keeping old photos and computer files of writing and digital photos and scans of tickets and souvenirs and thousands of emails? Indeed, I've made a great effort to keep the stuff even if I haven't done much to preserve it from harm. The computer files have been copied and preserved through so many hard drive failures and computer decommissions that I've lost track.

Still I have this desire to organize it and have decided to spend a little time on it each day. It will, of course, be another forgotten project after a while. Perhaps there will be little lists on the computer and notes on paper to commemorate the effort (and cry out to themselves be archived).

[Today's picture is a shop window self-portrait taken at Uncommon Objects in 2008.]