Christmas Forever

So my 'it seemed clever at the time' idea for this year's holiday card (a habit I can't seem to give up) was this: I wouldn't send cards. I wouldn't think of a clever idea possibly involving a picture of us or reference to our 2014 and then print it on scores of cards and go through the address data base sending out cards into the ether. Instead I had a different idea which I described a earlier this month.

The image above is a scan of the front of a card I actually sent. Inside it said that friends were forever (is that really true?) and maybe that weird shoes were, too, given the recipient. I have sent a few commercial cards and have made cards like this with similar lame collages of stamps. In one case I sent the person last year's card because we didn't exchange cards last year.

It's Christmas Day and I don't have much to do. We opened our gifts to each other last night. We don't have any plans. I only have two cards to reply to...the ones I got yesterday. So, I've kept up with this activity so far.

A few people have remarked that they received the cards and they seemed to like them. I think it forestalled that disconnect of having the cards pass in the mail. Of course, if everyone did this then there would be no cards. We'd all be waiting for someone to send one to get things started. Next year I'm sure I'll print up something I think is clever and mail it to a hundred or so families and then receive and admire the forty or fifty that arrive in our mailbox. Maybe. This year has been pretty fun. It's sort of broken up the feeling that Christmas and its rituals are just this endless unbroken cycle of habit devoid of meaning.

To Nog or Not

Photograph on left by Maja Nipper (all rights reserved). Painting on right by Shanny Lott (all rights reserved). So don't use the composite of my shelf either. I don't ask for forbearance often.

As the days of Holidailies have rolled along I've become more and more dependent on Holidailies for an inspiring prompt. Today they offer:

Eggnog - yes or no? Do you have a favorite recipe? Alternatively, what is your favorite holiday drink?

Here's my take on eggnog:

1. If you make some, I'll have a taste. (FFP can't have the milk and cream.)
2. But please use Bourbon.
3. I love that scene in 'Giant' where Bob asks Bick if he makes 'it'  himself. Turns out Bob is talking about the liquor not the eggnog recipe.

My favorite any time drink is a Manhattan. Preferably with Rye Whiskey but a Bourbon will do. At Christmas you should be drinking dark liquor for cold weather (in the Northern Hemisphere anyway). Not that I'm preaching about what you should drink. On Facebook I'm famous among my buddies for taking pictures of my drinks especially the Manhattans. I am somewhat of a connoisseur of them although I can't really consume enough alcohol to become an 'expert'. The painting above on my shelf was done by my friend Shanny Lott in honor of my obsession. Next to it is a picture of my dad, taken the last week of his life, sipping a little whiskey.

My mom used to like to buy the prepackaged eggnog at Christmas and Dad would spike it up. Haven't touched it lately. 

Now every Christmas I manage to have some Bloody Marys, too. It's a tradition at the noon time day before Christmas Eve party at our downtown club. And FFP likes to have one occasionally at home especially this time of year. The vitamin C in the tomato juice helps with all the other drinking!

As for 'Giant' I just found the DVDs and queued up the Christmas scene on side B. Watching that long movie is sort of a Christmas tradition around here, too. And so I say...Cheers!

Festivus

So it's Festivus, huh? A holiday invented on a sitcom that I never watched until it was in reruns? (Disclosure: I never watched one complete "The Colbert Report." It's not that I wouldn't have found them humorous or thought-provoking. I just never got in the habit.) According to the holidailies prompt:

Today is Festivus, which is marked by Feats of Strength and the Airing of Grievances. What do you consider your strengths? Alternatively, air your grievances in today's blog post.

What are my strengths? Well, it isn't a long list.

•  I don't always follow the herd. If everyone is watching a particular sitcom or comedy show, I don't feel the need to watch it as well. (See above.) If everyone is wearing green this season, I'll still wear my black and gray until it's threadbare. If everyone is drinking Cosmopolitans or Moscow Mules, I'll still order a Manhattan. If everyone wants to serve Manhattans up, I'll still usually insist on ice. If everyone gets all their news on their computer or gadget, I'll still insist on seeing and touching a newspaper even though I may go find the same article online and pass it on to someone. When my friends are sure that I should vote a 'straight party line' or take a certain view, you can be sure that I'll think the issue through myself.
• I do what I say I'm going to do. My best friends do this, too. This means we RSVP and we go to the event or don't go as we said. We do this unless serious events intervene. If I say that I'll take care of something I do it. Now this means that I don't make promises lightly, but you can trust me to do what I say. I said I was going to post something in this space every day from December 1 to January 1. And I will. Even though, really, Holidailies isn't a pledge of allegiance to online gods or anything.
• I'm able to see the humor in things. If a stock goes down after I buy it, I'm able to joke about what we call the 'P-B Effect' after our combined last names. If it rains when I don't take my umbrella and doesn't when I do, I'm able to laugh and take credit for the weather.
• I'm able to see that most things don't matter and will barely be remembered. If I lose my phone or forget my credit card somewhere, if plans go awry, if I have a little illness then I'm quick to say "this isn't cosmic." Even when serious illness and death comes to those around me, I grieve but I understand that it is their fate and will one day be mine. 
• I do the mundane things even though (see above). Does it matter if you pay your bills on time or try to accurately calculate and pay your taxes? Does it matter if you write a note to someone to thank them for a kindness? Does it matter if you get your inspection sticker and put your registration on your car in a timely manner? Does it matter if you ever clean out the refrigerator? Yes. Because these little things are all there is that keeps civilization sort of ticking. None of them matter. But neglecting all of them is a tsunami. 

Grievances? Well, I have a few. But I try to file them away. To all the twitter feeds that say "STFU" to my sort I (silently) say "I already did so I can't defend myself." I am very lucky to live out my life (which will end, heroically or ignominiously, in pain or in joy) from a pretty high point that I've arrived at: relatively healthy, somewhat wealthy and not too wise for my own good. I'm not complaining. You can't make me.

My Favorite Christmas

Holidailies prompt today is:

What is your best (or worst) holiday memory?

The picture? Yeah...that's not it. That one was right in the middle despite my pensive look. Holidays are so busy and chaotic that's it's hard to appreciate anything. Growing up I couldn't wait to see what Santa brought and then what was under the tree. But the denouement, the room full of discarded wrapping paper, with a bit of 'why did I get this?' and 'why did I NOT get that?' running underneath the conversation always left me a little sad. I would consolidate my gifts and put them in a corner or another room and try to move on.

Really I enjoyed a lot about Christmas. Getting surprises but more than that the occasional feeling of having gotten someone else exactly what they wanted. I loved it when we agreed to tone down the chaos by opening presents one at a time in order of age or something. I can't imagine what the procedure was here. My husband is hidden behind me, reading a book. He must have just gotten it as a present, right? My brother-in-law and his parents are pictured, too. (My mother probably took the picture and it's in her house.) My sister and her kids must be there. Maybe a kid is bundled up in the quilt on the left?

My favorite Christmas, though, was the Christmas of 1973. I believe that was the year. I'd taken off in the fall of 1972 to ramble aimlessly around Europe with a Eurail pass and a modicum of gumption. By Christmas 1973 I had a job again and couldn't leave it for an out of town holiday. I believe my parents went to visit my sister and her family. My aunts who lived nearby (I was in Dallas then) went to West Texas to be with other relatives. I'd never spent a Chirstmas alone.

My parents and sister had given me gifts which I saved to open on Christmas Day. I got a newspaper. I made coffee. I carefully opened each present. I was in a (relatively) new apartment and had bought a modular set of cubes with drawers and such and a desktop. They gave me desk accessories and, I'm sure, other things like amusing socks or knick-knacks. I liked the desk accessories a lot. One was a pencil sharpener with a lever to attach it to the desk with a suction cup. I coded on coding pads with a pencil back then. Yep. I sat there the rest of the day and read the paper from Page 1 to the classifieds and drank coffee. I was calm and alone and felt very much at peace. I won't say I felt independent at that moment because either I never did or that happened in 1972 when I was tramping around Europe. (I am going with never, however.)

It was so peaceful and simple. I could hear the chaos over the phone when I called my relatives to thank them for the gifts. I enjoyed that thing that we wish each other and get little of: peace. This Christmas promises much of the same. We have nothing planned between noon on the 23rd and Boxing Day. We have a one foot high tree with tiny rubber critters like flamingos, frogs, pigs and bats decorating it. There is one wrapped present. It is for me and it is from the bookstore. (FFP didn't give me the receipt but I keep up with charges online.) I was going to get him something but he kept buying the things for himself when I went out shopping with him. I still might find something, you never know.

Maybe this year will be my favorite holiday ever. I get emails from my niece about the chaos in Colorado that comes from having little kids. I view it fondly. From afar.

Peace on Earth. Goodwill to Men.

Lost in the Longest Night

Holidailies prompts us to write about winter solstice.

Today is the Winter Solstice - the shortest day and the longest night of the year - a day which has been celebrated throughout human history as a time of rebirth and new beginnings. Do you celebrate this day? What has happened during the past year that has felt like a new beginning for you?

Celebrate? Honestly I celebrate with people. I celebrate Christmas in as much as others do and as a muscle memory of what I did and saw growing up. A couple we know used to throw a delightful winter solstice party so we would celebrate it. For all I know they still do but we haven't been invited of late. Only problem is that it was way out in the burbs and wow it was dark coming home. (Not joking. But it is funny.)

New beginnings? I don't seem to get those any longer. My life seems to be largely consumed with avoiding an ignominious end. Running out of money, falling and not getting up, losing my mental grasp of holidays and everything else. It is just the age that I am, I think. Nothing to be done about it.

As far as it being the longest night and that having some significance to us? I found this article in The New York Times. This fellow is writing about our sleep (or the lack thereof) in a world of artificial lights. It really hits home. Living downtown in an apartment with night lights inside (to avoid those falls) and night lights outside, too, it is never really dark. Unless of course we get invited to a party out in the areas with no streetlights. And still there are high beams bouncing off the trees and prowling for deer and other animals who prefer the dark. This solstice thing has surely lost its meaning for us and not just because humans have moved on to different religious celebrations.

Winter in Texas

This is a picture of my dad and sister in the winter of 1948. We'd had a lot of snow on the farm and someone snapped this picture. My dad appears to be on the road which was unpaved and most likely impassable until this stuff melted.  I was a baby, probably three months old. The farm was north of McKinney which is about 30 miles north of Dallas. The house belonged to the neighbors across the road. Ours was a bit smaller and didn't have the decorative greenery.

Snow in North Texas is something you snap pictures of because it isn't that common. Snow in Austin? Doubly so.

Forrest's parents snapped a picture of their house, likely in the winter of 1939/1940. The snow was unusual so they took a picture of the little one bedroom house surrounded by snow (and not much else) that FFP's dad had built with his own and his family's labor. (And lumber from the company on the sign.) That's his mom posing. [For locals who know the area, this is in Rosedale.]

In 2004 it snowed a tiny bit in Austin. We took a picture of the backyard where we lived on Shoal Creek. 

Holidailies has this prompt today:

Winter is coming!
Tomorrow is the first day of winter. What do you consider the perfect winter day?

We snap pictures when it snows because it's a rare occurrence. In Austin it doesn't even snow every year. Fortunately the requirements for a perfect winter day for me don't involve snow. No.  I prefer a crisp blue sky. No wind. But cold enough that the sun is welcome but doesn't really warm you up when you exercise and you need to leave on a jacket and maybe a dashing scarf to stay warm.. My perfect winter day might just be next Tuesday when the forecast here is a low of 37, a high of 62, mostly clear with no chance of precipitation. I'll be playing tennis for a couple of hours in the cool morning, bundled up in sweats, a hat and sunglasses defending against the winter sun. Then I'll rush through a shower, dress up a bit, and go to a noon time party where I'll drink a Bloody Mary and have some party food while looking out over a snowless and bright Austin with construction cranes relentlessly changing our skyline on a day that hardly seems like winter. When we walk back to our apartment the cool air will refresh my face, flush from drinking alcohol in the middle of the day.

Acts of Kindness

Today's Holidailies prompt is about random acts of kindness. I don't know that I do many of those. My mom did, though. As I mentioned a few days ago in this post my mom was a very kind and thoughtful person, always doing for others and celebrating family and friends. The Christmas that she entertained not only her grand kids but my cousin's little kids and made stockings (and doubtless found little gifts for them) was but one example. This is my cousin's son. I snapped a Polaroid of him carefully unpacking his stocking that Christmas. I found the original Polaroid the other day. On the back my mom had noted that she was ordering two copies. (You could send your instant prints off to the company to be copied.) So she probably ordered a print for herself and one for her nephew who is this little guy's father. Indeed, she had purchased that Polaroid camera for me when I was in high school. I will never know how she found enough money to do it. (See this entry.)

Thanks, Mom, for showing me how to care about others. Maybe I will do some random acts of kindness in the coming days.I have lots more resources than my mom ever did if only I had her heart.

Games

Holidailies has this prompt today:

Let's talk about games (console games, board games, role-playing games, live action, any sort). Do you play any? Do you have any family favorites? Are there any you just can't stand?

Now, there's a prompt a day late. (Since I talked about tennis just yesterday.) However, games, yeah I have plenty to say on that subject. The winter holidays make a lot of people think about football, but it makes me think about board games and jigsaw puzzles. It's a family tradition in my extended family especially on my dad's side to play a board game or card game or domino game while recovering from eating too much or while having an after dinner piece of pie and coffee.

My favorite game is Scrabble. I love words so this isn't that surprising. I remember Scrabble first from playing at my aunts' house. These two aunts never married and they lived together in this little bungalow in Oak Cliff in Dallas. I spent time with them sometimes in the summer, just me visiting them. They had an original Scrabble game and for years it came out and my Aunt Wynnie would play with me (and others if there were other visitors for a Christmas get-together or something). My Aunt Mary, my dad's oldest sibling, would sit in her chair and offer advice and mediation over words. We did resort to the dictionary for conflicts as well.

My mom loved nothing so much as getting out a game or a jigsaw puzzle and whiling away hours on a holiday after the dishes were done. She liked a steaming cup of black coffee by her side, too.

My sister still clings to the memory of those times and insists on getting the Scrabble set out when I visit with her. In fact, the picture above might have been taken after playing with her. I made 'singe' out of sing and (with the help of two blanks) used seven letters for 'culture' thus getting an extra 50 points. I always win when we play. (Well, usually. There are bad draws.) It doesn't matter to my sister. She's back to reliving our childhood. When there were no electronic games or iThis or iThat. When, as we got older, there weren't really toys. But we always had games. We evolved into playing a domino game called Spinners and some other games (one was called Sequence). But just this last summer I visited with my sister at her daughter's house. She brought along her Scrabble set and a Scrabble dictionary. And insisted we play.

It's a Racket

No, it hasn't snowed in Austin this winter. But a few years ago, it did. 2011 I think. We had some light accumulations and it was still pretty cold. My friend (who was only 80 in this picture) and I got another gal to take our picture with a phone. This clay court had a patch of shade and the snow hadn't melted. We actually played on the one next to it or maybe a hard court. I know we actually played although I don't think there was a fourth victim. This isn't the coldest day we played because...no mufflers or gloves.

We don't get a lot of snow in Austin. (Understatement.) Unfortunately for the last few years we haven't gotten enough rain either. The temperatures occasionally get chilly, more rarely actually cold (below freezing) and the wind can bite a bit.

Suffice to say: it's hard for me to give up my tennis game.

The nice lady on the right above organizes a social game every Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday. She's done this a long time with different casts of characters. Most her age have quit the game (of tennis or, you know, the entire game). However, the other Saturday regulars are both older than I as well. I have participated for about 10 years. We try to play three sets of doubles with each partnership. If I'm there I start with this kind lady. We play for two hours or so. We hit a lot of balls. Most points are won when someone makes a mistake rather than by clear winners.

When I'm on the court, a lot of the rest of my life falls away. I concentrate on the balls, my racket, the wind, a leave scurrying across the court, the sky, the trees, the sounds of other games on other courts. It's a microcosm of life with pretty simple rules and yet with infinite possibilities. Yes, I'm moving around a little and that's nice. But, more importantly, it's almost like two hours of meditation. Sure we talk on changeovers of family and errands and all the things outside this space. But during the game one confines oneself to calling the score, apologizing for a bad shot and complimenting someone else's efforts.

Tennis is a comfortable time for me. A special place impervious to what else is going on. When we have a rain out or can't play due to a holiday or because we can't get a foursome, I'm not that disappointed. A break in routine is nice. But once I'm on the court I'm very present in those moments and it feels fantastic.

Today is Enough

I confess. I've been dragging through this holiday season, collecting a few shop window reflections to cheer me up (spiky tree, spiky hair, I love it) but still feeling depressed.

I know the why. It's the root cause of any and all depressions I have. (I don't think my depression is clinical by the way. And not just because I'm a medical nihilist. So I probably should call it sadness or being down or blah.) When I slip into a mode of worrying about accomplishments and things and when I last dusted those things I find that I fall out of true appreciation of life and being centered in it. The more I revel in the taste of my food, the minutiae around me, the conversations I hear then the better I feel. The more I notice my steps and wonder that they are still strong for someone who is over 65 then the more the black cloak yields. The more I notice the bright crisp beautiful day then it seems less heinous that people are rushing about for piles of mindless presents. If I stop to read a paragraph in my books while I dust them and don't rush through other household things but stop and revel in my wonderful possessions in my little apartment and my ability to still climb the ladder and reach the high shelves, then chores seem to fall into their place not as awful duties but as wonderful privileges. Not everyone can climb that ladder.

To this point I read an article in The New York Times: "Abundance Without Attachment." I love two quotes in this article and I'll share them here in case you hate following links.

CHRISTMAS is at our throats again. - Noël Coward

Christmas is not a time nor a season, but a state of mind. To cherish peace and good will, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas. - Calvin Coolidge

The article asserts that we should be happy about abundance if we have it and share it but should also avoid attachment. It is the attachment to money and things that is our downfall. In case you still hate following links I'll outline the three-pronged approach to achieving this.

• First, collect experiences, not things.
• Second, steer clear of excessive usefulness.
• And finally, get to the center of the wheel.

First point is pretty obvious, I think. 

The second means doing things for their own sake rather than as a means to a reward. So we clean for the pleasure of the task. We drive to enjoy the road even though, yes, we are headed somewhere. We read and converse not to get information and use it for success but because reading and conversing are pleasure.

The third means moving from the ups and downs of life to the core thing that you think life is about. Many think this is religious faith. According to this article some churches have a 'wheel of life' decoration in a window with a king at the top, a pauper at the bottom and Jesus in the center. Have to look for that. My center is inhabiting the world in full acknowledgment the chaos and hate but with thankfulness that my basic needs are taken care of and that I have means beyond those needs to help others.  Living with the understanding that everything that swirls around me and irritates me (diseases, politics, bad drivers, heedless bikers, active shooters, terrorists, prejudice, psychosis) is just noise until the day comes that it is my day. If I merely try not to be the instrument of pain for someone else, I will be centered.  If I simply enjoy being in this moment, able to type if not 'write' something, then I have all the peace I want or expect.

That active shooter thing? One block away the morning after Thanksgiving was the closest I've come. There have been close calls while walking and driving. In my 20's a medical condition that could have killed me instead infected my appendix and led to surgery that short stopped it. I have stumbled where a fall would have been horrendous if not fatal. This is where we all exist. On a precipice between life and death, relative health and serious decline. The only way we can live happily is to find the center. 

My center is acknowledgment. Of the tightrope we are on and the fact that one day we all fall and we cannot build the kind of net that will protect us. Which means being cautious but resigned. And enjoying every little moment for itself.

Today is enough. And is, in fact, tremendous. 

It's Too Complicated!

Today's photo is a recent reflection at the Uncommon Objects Store on South Congress.

Today's Holidailies prompt is: "Today is Cat Herder's Day, a day to celebrate the times when things are overwhelming, and you feel as if you are trying to 'herd cats'. What in your life feels like herding cats, and how do you handle it?"

For the first sixty years of my life I sought to complicate things. I wanted more stuff. I wanted more experiences. I wanted to know more people. I embraced buying a home, landscaping, buying furniture and art and computer after computer, camera after camera (to capture those people and experiences). I threw parties and introduced the people I'd met to one another. I met other minds online and met some of those people in person. I mailed hundreds (well, at least more than a hundred) holiday cards, each year printing something complicated and, in my mind, clever. At work I got to know people and products and ideas.

Along the way we lost track of friends and even family. People died. Belongings began to lose their luster and were given away, discarded or sold. We downsized from about 3000 square feet and a garage with storage to a 1225 square foot apartment and a forty square foot storage cage. By the end of 2011 all our parents were gone and early in 2012 we had disposed of their belongings. (We still have the last home my parents lived in but we rent it out.)

But. Now I have this desire to simplify things.

I still want to meet people but I'm honestly circumspect about getting too involved with more people or their causes. I have trouble keeping up with the ones I know. A data base of people on my computer contains 655 individuals or families. Of course, I don't really remember who some of them are. (I have, I think, eliminated those who have left this world.) My facebook profile claims I have 864 friends at least one of whom is not still alive. I have friends who are not in the data base and not friends on facebook.

I have so many possessions albeit in a small space that I thought I would get organized in retirement (I've been retired twelve years) or after downsizing (I moved to the smaller place over six years ago) or for sure after handling the affairs and possessions of the parents (completed almost four years ago).

But. Life is still too complex. I need to make it even more straightforward. I need to concentrate my attention. How to do that?

Don't buy so many things. I now look askance at buying things. I may even occasionally discourage FFP from buying something although this is less frequent. When I was younger I would occasionally eliminate magazine subscriptions to simplify things. For me only The New Yorker has survived this cut but FFP subscribes to others off and on. I never get The New Yorker read. Ditto the three newspapers I still take. Sigh.

Get rid of stuff.  I do less well at this. I think too much about whether I should keep things and even if I'm convinced I shouldn't have it I fret over proper disposal.

Say No to Events and Causes. I have a tendency to accept invitations whether personal ones or for events associated with causes. We have eliminated season tickets for everything but the ballet, picking and choosing other performances. We have decided to stop buying badges for film festivals. (Well, for sure we won't for SXSW.) And yet we have something every night and two lunches between now and Sunday!

My life should be simple. I have downsized. I have retired from the working world where herding cats is putting it mildly especially in the computer business. And yet I'm often overwhelmed with things I want to be doing. And here I sit, trying to write a blog entry. Why did I decide to dally with Holidailies?

Lego is the Topic

I am writing about Legos today. They Holidailies writing prompt has to do with Candle Lighting Day and losses for the year. Last year I could have done something with that prompt. It wasn't working this year. But I saw this entry on another blog in the Holidailies family and decided to write about Legos.

Seems like only yesterday (because it was) that I was talking about construction toys I wanted as a child. Legos didn't make it to the U.S. in time for my childhood passions but later, far after I should have outgrown toys, I became fascinated with them. I often his this passion in the guise of playing with or buying for children. When I downsized, I had many pounds of Lego and I sent almost all of them off to my great nephews. I can't say I regretted it.

But occasionally I really want to play with Legos. I often visit the Lego store when we are in NYC and I bought this 39 piece Statue of Liberty there. (She comes with a spare flame.) They have massive models of Rockefeller Center sights there and I've been to the Times Square Toys 'R Us to see giant Lego models there, too.

I buy Legos for my great nephews and try to just let my coveting of Legos stop at admiring stuff on the Lego site. I almost succumbed to the Simpsons house! I recently rented "The Lego Movie" and I loved it.

What cool toys, right? Of course, I'm not a parent who has to step on little pieces of plastic and try to store all these pieces.

Gifts

I'm having trouble writing today. The Holidailies Writing Prompt is about gifts (material or otherwise) and what you'd wish to get or give. So let's start there and see if something gets written.

My first thoughts on getting is that there are very few material things I can imagine wanting. Certain nothing beyond having with a swipe of the credit card (which, yes, I can also probably pay off). I could use some new shoes: tennis shoes, the higher hiking boots (I got new country walkers recently), some dressy loafers (unfortunately I find it increasingly difficult to find ones that I like that fit well). I could use new clothes but I keep thinking I'll lose weight first. I guess it would be nice to have a new car but, honestly, as long as my 2001 Civic keeps running I think I'm happier without a new one.  I need to get a new phone but really it's just a matter of going to the store and getting it. There is a package for me from FFP and I'm sure it's books and sure I'll like them but I also have scores of books around I haven't read and want to read. I'm pretty happy with the gadgets I have: the cameras and computers and such except for that old iPhone 3GS and like I said...just go shopping. The whole idea of getting presents this year seems depressing and obsessive. What a far cry from the child who pored over pages like the ones below from the Sears Christmas Catalog...hot with the desire to own these toys.

 I would have loved all these construction toys. Indeed, I did finally acquire an Erector set around this time (late 50's) after much haggling with parents and Santa and society. (The makers of these toys didn't help my cause by putting pictures of boys on the packages and in the catalog.)

Ditto all these games and shooting galleries. Never did get electric football. I did get a BB gun, though, so yeah there was that.

Yep, pored over these catalogs for hours on end. I was full of wishing (and the Sears Catalog was nicknamed the wish book). Full of wanting. But even then I noticed how little satisfaction came with the getting.

So what gifts would I like now? Nothing really in the material realm. And I dare not hope for world peace and understanding. I would love to snap my fingers and stop wars and hate. But I know it won't happen.

A Tough Subject

What's this? A self-portrait scribbled on my iPhone for my phone's 'wallpaper'. I think it looks just like me. In fact, when I drink my face gets red enough that people ask if I've 'gotten a lot of sun.' I'll say, "No. It's the wine." or whatever.

Other people don't think it looks like me. Go figure.

So here's my actual picture. Not the pinup at the bottom but that reflection...the one to the right of the camera.

I snapped this in a junk shop when I first got my iPhone. And, yes, I'm sure I intentionally included myself.

And this one? Maybe that's a reflection of my feet and legs.

What do we see when we see ourselves? In pictures? In the mirror? In the reflection in a shop window when we are passing by. I'm often a little shocked a what I see. ("Stand up straight!" I say to the passing image in that window.) In the mirror or photo I see the extra chin, the wrinkles, the imperfections, the hair going everywhere and going a little gray. (I'm inordinately proud that it's not ALL gray. After all a lot of my friends are completely gray. And truth be told, I like when it is going in multiple directions.)

Here's what I really look like. Well, not really. The picture is a couple of years old. I look older. I have more gray. The photo was taken (and retouched perhaps) by a professional.

Well, OK...here I am now. Last week.

My right eye looks a little wonky. My hair is suitably weird. See the gray? I keep it short because that de-emphasizes the gray. I'd had a drink, maybe two. Red cheeks. This is just a snapshot FFP took and I cropped it out to show my face.

So who are we really? How do we perceive ourselves and, of course, others? Do we make instant judgments based on age and skin color?  Sex? Dress? Do we hear someone speak (articulately or not, accented or bland) and make judgments about origin and education?

These perceptions are much in the news. People are protesting deaths of blacks in police shootings. A young girl shot in the head for being in favor of education for girls is receiving a Nobel prize. There are ancient wars between and among religious sects and ethnic groups outsiders would find difficult to define. The world is full of this hate. Stereotyping. Prejudice. There's no doubt about it.

Amid the protests over police shootings of blacks and, let's face it, before that, there has been a call for whites to confess to their privilege if not their prejudice. I'm not sure what one is supposed to do once this privilege (and perhaps prejudice) is acknowledged. Perhaps the hope is that one will become less apt to make an instant assumption about someone. Or maybe become less opposed (assuming one was opposed) to affirmative action.

From the pictures above (well maybe not the drawing!) one can see that my skin is the 'white' associated with Northern Europeans. I confess that the rhetoric which demands that I admit my privilege is a little off-putting for me. I am a woman (the short hair sometimes confuses people on this point but I am) and I grew up in the lower middle class. My privilege is hard-worn assuming I have it. I could go on and on about male privilege in college and the work place in my era. I will not.

In any case, I'm white. I check the Caucasian box when asked. (What does that even mean?) I haven't done 23andMe although I'm considering it. I think it might find some ancestry that would be surprising. But the fact is that other people see white skin.

Which brings me to a thought experiment that I began about two months ago. I decided that when I interacted with others or just saw them on the street that, in addition to noting how they were dressed and making assumptions about who they were and what they were doing, I would note their race, the color of their skin, the distinguishing facial features of race, first and foremost.

Wait, you say...that's what you always do! No, I found, it really was not. I had to force this fact to the head of the line in making assumptions. A guy with a backpack and earphones? I'd internally say a person of Asian origin who is probably a student or a high tech worker. Before I would not have added the racial aspect although certainly I would have probably remembered it later. A group of people speaking another language taking up the entire sidewalk looking back and forth at phones? A group of Asian foreign visitors. A male runner with no shirt on and a great body? A black athlete. The scary homeless man we see a lot who stands straight up and makes threatening gestures? A white man who obviously has psychological problems. The homeless guy we see a lot lounging on a particular park bench never asking for anything or speaking? The black homeless guy with dreads.

I could go on and on. I learned a lot of things from this exercise. I learned that I wasn't always sure about race. Hispanic? Or black? Mixed race? I learned that in Austin many construction workers appear Hispanic but blacks are few and far between. (Our Hispanic population is four times that of blacks here, however.) I learned that though our black population is less than ten percent that I see lots of blacks in many contexts. (We'll talk about the elitism of the blacks who are my friends and the economic, education, cultural implications of that another day.) I saw blacks headed to work, homeless, shopping, having meetings in coffee shops, running the trail, dressed like bankers, performing musicians, street musicians. For some reason I didn't see many black families on the walking trails but mixed race families seemed to abound. This isn't a statistical study, of course, but a personal one. What assumptions was I making? And the number of people in Austin identifying as two or more races is fifty percent of the number identifying as black.

I love watching people. Sorting them into types and ilks. Skin color and facial features denoting origins is one way. And I found that making myself identify it at the forefront when encountering strangers rather than emphasizing my own prejudice probably adjusted it. These strangers covered the spectrum in all the other ways we have of distinguishing people: dress, seeming economic status, age, sex, fitness, way of speaking (if they spoke), what they carried, etc. Race identification didn't really tell one much else. Which may be why I didn't put it first in my people-watching before. Which is not to say I didn't notice racial characteristics.

For those who aren't on the front lines of the battle against hate of the 'other' I recommend a thought experiment like this as you encounter strangers. If you make assumptions based on race or age or sex alone then you might ask why. I certainly make assumptions. Particularly when I see drivers of a certain age or race. I think it's worth taking these out and examining them honestly. I don't know if this constitutes a contribution to the conversation we are told we are supposed to be having about race. But it's always good to take a good look at oneself. Outside (OK, I'm not that red and I'm getting old and a bit fat) and inside (what are you really thinking and from where does that thinking arise).

Throw Back Thursday...The Christmas Spirit

My mom loved Christmas and if you had known her, you would have to smile when she came to your house with holiday decorations hanging from her ears and this sweatshirt on and, as I remember, socks with Santas on them as well. This is in our old house in Austin in 2000. It is the last Christmas that my mom really felt good, I think. By Christmas 2001 she would be on her way to death by Multiple Myeloma but we wouldn't know it or have a name to put with her problems. We would even have an extremely frustrating hospital visit right before Christmas in 2001. But she was pretty chipper in 2000.

She put up the tree when we were kids and put surprise wrapped packages under it when I'm pretty sure money was very tight. Santa came and he didn't disappoint.

She made turkeys and homemade dressing and gravy and rolls and might invite scads of people to partake. She made pies.

I remember one Christmas when I was still living in Dallas. My sister was visiting Mom with her kids, I think. My cousin and his wife and their three kids were there. Mom decided everyone needed a stocking. She got out the sewing machine and started whipping up these personalized stockings. Her sewing machine needle broke and I had to go to a mall (I swear it was Christmas Eve) and go to Sears or some place like that and get one. I believe my mom decided kids needed bikes and trikes and wagons, too,. It seemed my mom was whipping up holiday spirit out of thin air, that we all had some good reason not to feel that great that particular holiday and I can't put my finger on why. But we had a great time as I remember. And it was all her.

I've said it many times but I'll say it again: the Christmas spirit left me when this woman left us. And it will never really return. Not in that way. Not even if I get out a jigsaw puzzle or a board game and sit down to that recreation with a cup of black coffee and some leftover pie. That would remind me of Mom but I don't think it would give me the same feeling of holiday cheer.

The Joy of the Season

This picture was taken of the window of a shop near us decorated with a 'joy to the world' theme. I like it. I used to collect old globes. Gave them all to charity when I downsized.

A few days ago I talked about letter writing and how I was writing personal notes to people who sent me cards rather than printing up a bunch of cards and mass mailing them perhaps with just a scribbled sentiment. As of yesterday I've already fallen a tiny bit behind. (I have five unanswered cards.) But I'm hopeful that I can keep this up. It is nice to stop and reflect on the folks that have taken the trouble to buy or design and print something, address it, stamp it and entrust it to snail mail.

I hope this activity is making me stop and appreciate the season a little bit. Because it's really about those human connections. Here's a picture of a young couple and their four kids, almost visibly growing as they are photographed. Here's these two guys in front of the Capitol with their dog, here's a Santa card with a nice personal paragraph inside. And so forth. We are making a connection with one another in all our sameness and differences. It's a reason to be happy, isn't it?

Cheers!

At Holidailies the writing prompt is "Holiday parties - do you throw one? Do you attend them? What would the very best holiday party be?"  Well, parties. My first thought goes to...you guessed it...the libations.

When we lived in our house we had a large kitchen and a 500 square foot room attached for entertaining and a living room/dining room and small room next to the kitchen for setting up a bar or food, too. We had a lot of parties. Not too many Christmas ones, but a few. We haven't had anything elaborate in our little apartment and as it becomes more and more overcome with books and other things I wonder if I ever will have many people over. In our old house we could shut off a room or even two, lock the dog(s) and all the unread papers, stray books and messes in there and have fifty or more people in for snacks and drinks.

We held some New Year's Day recovery parties where we served up black-eyed peas and sausage and Bloody Marys and such. We served taco buffets, giant slabs of smoked salmon, etc. It all runs together. But no more.

We still go to parties. Big ones held at clubs and little dinner parties and big ones held at large luxurious homes decorated to the nines. And we drink. Both of us if we are not driving. FFP drives if we go out at night so....

I don't think the holidays influence my drinking, though. Year in and year out I'm pretty much a five or six drink a week person. (I hear people always underestimate their drinking. So do what you will with that.) I often don't drink if we stay home. If we do go out to dinner, I usually drink. If we go to a party I usually drink. If I drink a Manhattan I often take a picture of it and post it on facebook. I don't usually post pictures of glasses of wine, other cocktails I might try or the very occasional after dinner drink.

If I live to be 100 (or for my boomer generation whatever the appropriate old age is to amaze people) then I'm going to say, when asked to what I attribute my longevity:

• Onions
• Garlic
• Staying away from the doctors
• Walking
• Drinking almost every day
• Not doing the same thing every day

Yep, holiday parties mean drinking to me whether it's your party or mine. A club we belong to even throws a party at noon on December 23. The Bloody Marys are free. I break my 'no alcohol before five' rule to drink a couple. But in general, I don't drink any more during the holiday time than usual. Now whether that's good or bad is hard to say. I'll try to decide while you set me up again.

Note on the picture: this liquor store is three blocks from us. We don't usually shop there because there are three other liquor stores within walking distance. Maybe more. This one has the simple stuff, though, that you might need. A couple of others have fancy brands and good wines. The deli downstairs has wine and beer. The Whole Foods has a huge wine selection and 'beer alley.' We don't buy all that much in these places because we do a lot of our drinking out at parties or bars or restaurants.

Where's The Spirit?

The picture is from 2007. The Capitol tree is lit for this year I'm sure. I haven't been to see it. Maybe tonight. It's less than a mile away.

I'm not feeling it. Christmas, that is. FFP keeps bugging me to give him a hint for a gift. He's picked out for himself a new suit, leather jacket, three sweaters and a belt. I did buy a new belt. He even said he went to Toy Joy (a very silly and fun store that moved to our neighborhood a while ago) looking for something silly to buy me. He didn't find anything. He's picked so much himself that I'm not even inclined to try to surprise him. The last few years I've given him a nice scarf, a link and stud set and a very nice compact umbrella. I have a couple of things I think I could buy him, but I don't know if I will. He's hard to buy for but perhaps not as hard as I am. I keep thinking I'll lose some weight and get fit before I buy new clothes. I have a pile of books I want to read. (I'm currently reading one I bought long ago but never read. It's been adapted into the movie "The Imitation Game" which we saw in the Austin Film Festival.)

But Christmas isn't about presents for oneself, right? One is supposed to want to help others. But my helping others is usually by giving money. And we do that throughout the year. Our causes have pretty well tapped the well by the time the holiday comes. (And yet every day's mail brings several appeals and 'Giving Tuesday' filled my inbox.) I know I could go out and volunteer to physically help someone. Maybe I'm a bad person, but I reserve that kind of activity for friends and family. Perhaps because strangers frighten me. Perhaps because I'm just selfish. It might give me the spirit but it's too hard for me to do.

If the season is supposed to be a religious celebration then I'm also sort of out of luck. My Christian background makes the songs celebrating 'Christ is Born' resonate with the season but my beliefs don't really bring a sense of wonder at god man being born and all that means to many folks. And it seems that few Christians even view the season that way but rather as one of football, food, drink and presents. Which doesn't sound bad to me, of course. Especially the food and drink. But, no. I'm not feeling it.

It's Beginning to Look

Yep. There I am by the Christmas tree. Not our tree, but, um, the tree at the Driskill hotel in the beautiful lobby. We were walking around Thursday night and went into several places with trees and got pictures. It got dull quickly and we went for food and drink. The season isn't really so bright for me.

I am still intent on answering all the holiday cards I receive with a little personal note. However, we are only a few days in and I have two pending ones so I may not get that done.  I guess I fail at Christmas. Or Happy Holidays or whatever others are celebrating. (Christmas is the one celebrated in my childhood before I new other traditions existed.)

And that's about all I've got today.

Letters

Today's writing prompt on Holidailies concerns "World Letter Writing Day" which is tomorrow. The prompt is: "When is the last time you sent (or received) a letter? Write a letter (to anyone or anything you want) and share it with us."

That had me thinking about the early days of ebay, my sister who had a catastrophic health problem around that time and my efforts to entertain her with letters.

Today is my sister's 71st birthday. Shortly after her her 55th birthday she collapsed at her home in Denver from a ruptured aneurysm in her brain, a hemorrhagic stroke. For weeks, she struggled to survive. They repaired the aneurysm and attempted to stop several subsequent ischemic strokes caused by swelling. She survived and learned to walk again although she never regained all the strength and mobility on her right side.

My sister was in rehab hospitals for many months and then home struggling to come back for many more. I was far away. She lived in Denver. I forbade my parents from going to Colorado in the winter so I didn't go either. In March I finally took them to see her.

As my sister progressed I sent lots of get well messages and then, at some point, wanted her to have mail from me that would distract her from her struggles and encourage her to come back to things she loved.

I had discovered the wonders of ebay. I sold a few things, I bought a few things but mostly I was utterly fascinated with the stuff on offer. I would snip out pictures of things for sale. I began in 1999 using these stolen pictures to write letters to my sister illustrated with ebay items (and a few collectibles I owned) and talking about our childhoods or certain categories of collectibles.

My sister loved these letters. She'd always been a fan of junk stores and garage sale and she had a lot of collections, especially of miniatures but of other things, too.

One letter was about Christmas collectibles. The German card above was one of the illustrations.   I loved the way it was written on all around the illustration. Here is another snippet from that letter

I would also close by asking her to write to me. (She was struggling to write again because of the weakness on her right side.) I would tell her that if she wrote to me, I'd construct another one of these letters that was essentially a looking glass into ebay. I think she collected all the letters in a notebook. She may still have them as a matter of fact. I found the word doc for this one among computer files I'd transferred over and over from machine to machine.

Which brings me to my current letter writing. They are more notes than letters, but this year, instead of printing up a bunch of holiday cards and mailing them to a hundred or so people, I am making a card or getting a card and replying to each card I receive with a short personal note. I'll respond to what the person wrote on their card or mention how lovely the children are in the picture. One person sent a MOMA card of a Matisse stained glass window. I mentioned that we saw the recent Matisse show at MOMA. On some of these cards I'm using Forever Stamps (or scans of them) to decorate them. For example,

In some cases, I've used the stamp on the envelope that my correspondent sent me to decorate the one I send. I'm thinking that these cards may surprise the recipients who realize we are suddenly having a correspondence instead of exchanging cards. It's made the holiday card thing fun again for me but as the cards flow in I may not have the stamina for it! Still I do love hand-written letters. Or notes. And remember tomorrow isn't just Pearl Harbor Day but World Letter Writing day.

Texas Christmas

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

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

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

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

Time Passes!

Dad's family 1944. Only his brother is missing. I think that may be because he was away in the Navy. This is during WWII, of course. My dad was rejected for conscription a few times for health. Eventually they took him, though. Except for his brother (who was not yet married) this is his family. I wonder if the picture was taken to send to his brother. None of the sisters are married at this time. His youngest sister, on the ground with my mother and infant sister, is no more than 14.

I have quite a collection of pictures (scanned from prints and originally digital) on my computer and various backup drives. I have several computers on my desk (don't ask) and when they are on they frequently go into screen saver mode and I have them flashing up pictures from a few collections.

When I look at old pictures I can't help but think about how much time has passed and how many people have passed with time. If I see the picture above I immediately think: they are all gone except that baby and teenager. The baby is now my almost 71-year-old sister. The teenager is my Aunt Cappy, featured yesterday. Only my granddad didn't survive to be in my life. But my grandmother, Dad, Mom and the other four sisters are gone now, too.

So much happened to these people. Eight more children would be born amongst three of the women in this picture. They would work and struggle and laugh and cry. (The Ball family, in fact, has a tendency to laugh until they cry.) The children would grow, the people in this picture would grow old, the children would have children and those children would have children. A couple of children would die before their parents.

This tendency of mine to look at who has been lost in pictures as they flash by doesn't feel morbid. It feels like celebrating lives lived and the struggle inherent in life. Let's see...there's a picture of my friend Al on the beach at Normandy, my mother with a snowman, two of our dogs (they are gone, too), my mom with us on the Capitol steps when we are children, my Aunts Mary and Dottie at my sister's wedding in 1965. And there's my friend Charles giving me a hug, So recognizable in these pictures on my screens but no longer in the world. Does this make me sad? No just nostalgic and maybe accepting that one is just a pawn in a long sputtering line of humanity trying hard to stop time but failing. Always eventually succumbing.

What's Eating You?

Aunt Cappy at Shaw's near Pemaquid, July 2005.

This morning I stayed in bed until 8 o'clock. I almost never stay in bed that late. I had some weird dreams. When I got up I thought I should write something for Holidailies right away and get that done. The writing prompt was about shopping Black Friday and Cyber Monday. We will speak of my non-shopping ways another time. Today we will talk about my Aunt.

We call her Cappy. It's a nickname her brothers and sisters (and parents for all I know) gave her. She had two brothers and four sisters. My dad and my uncle and my four other aunts on that side of the family. Two of her sisters married and had kids. The brothers, too. (Two of her sisters never married.) She was single until she was in her mid-thirties. She was in the Navy. She married a Marine late in both their military careers. He went to Viet Nam after they married. He had been in WWII and Korea. They were married for over four decades until he died in 2013. All her sisters have died, too. Her brothers. All the husbands and wives of those siblings. Her nieces and nephews married. Some had children. Some of those children had children. But of her 'generation' on my Dad's side, it is only Aunt Cappy. It's true she was youngest of her siblings. The oldest was 20 years older. Cappy was born straddling the next generation, only 12 years older than the oldest niece.

The Marine she married hailed from a little town in Maine where generations of his family had lived. So they moved there after they retired and they took care of his mother until she died and stayed on in the land of harsh winters and beauty and lobsters until they couldn't weather the winters and finally couldn't maintain two homes so they could summer in Texas.

The picture above is of my aunt when Forrest and I visited Maine on a car trip. Nine years ago. She's joking with the lobsters we will consume. (Funny how the camera she's holding dates the picture. A Polaroid I believe. Although the rest of us were in the digital era by then.) We had a routine when we visited called 'Code of the West' (somewhat inexplicably in the eastern most state) that involved going for lobster at a lobster dock restaurant, taking home leftover lobster meat for lobster rolls the next day in a cooler, visiting the Pemaquid Lighthouse and Museum and having ice cream at a gift shop nearby.

My aunt is on my mind. She lives near Dallas now but on a Thanksgiving trip to Houston she fell and dislocated her shoulder and had to get a shoulder replacement yesterday. Several of my cousins and their wives are on the case. But I'm there in spirit. I took her back to Maine the summer of 2013 to lay my uncle's ashes to rest in his native soil. (And, incidentally, to reenact the Code of the West in his honor. And, let's be honest, do every fun thing he liked that we could make time for. That Marine was always so much fun.) I took her back again this last summer with the help of my own niece (who is, gulp, 46 years old!) to do the driving. Another cousin took her to South Carolina this year. On these excursions I worried that she would have a fall. I was inordinately proud of getting her home upright.

I hope that she rebounds to take the risk of being on unfamiliar ground again. There is an army of nieces and nephews and their progeny who will hopefully be there for our last elder of that generation. Maybe we will keep taking her on trips even though we fear the fall, especially the out-of-town fall. I wish she lived closer to me. (She is in a retirement home near Dallas.) But that would imbue additional responsibility. It's been a few years since we had parental units to look after. None were quite as fun as Cappy, though.

And whenever I see some older person being looked after, by a child or someone else, I now wonder: who will look after me? I posed that question to Aunt Cappy one time. She said: "Be nice to your nieces."

The Visible Woman...Unmasked

These lucha libre masks in neon are on display at the Roadhouse Relics art gallery on South First.

Yesterday's writing prompt at Holidailies was "Introduce Yourself" but I didn't follow that prompt. But I guess some introductions are in order. The portal can bring strangers to your virtual door.

The short version: I'm old. I've been retired for 12 years. I thought I'd do more. I'm very lucky.

I retired in 2002. Early retirement by most standards. I worked in various computer businesses (and businesses using computers) for 32 years. I fell into that work looking for, well, work. Money for work. When I graduated from college I had no money. I didn't have enough for an apartment deposit. Fortunately I was able to live with my parents for a while after I got a job with an oil company training to do computer programming. I changed jobs a lot but kept taking jobs in computing because I didn't win the lottery or anything and I had to support myself. I took a job in Austin late in 1975. I met a man and we married. We didn't have much money together either but we had a good time and he started his own advertising business.  Eventually we acquired a good-sized house and paid it off and saved some money. We are both retired now and I feel very lucky that we got from having nothing to having enough money to retire. We set goals but, yes, we were VERY lucky.

I did think I'd do more. Both during my career and after retirement. We sold our big house which was expensive and time-consuming to maintain and downsized to a 1200 sq. foot apartment in downtown Austin, Texas. We've lived here for six and a half years. It seems like it's both been a short time and a very long time. We got rid of lots of stuff when we moved. We moved a lot of books, though, and we still buy too many.

I had the idea that when I retired I would write, solve the world's problems, be very organized and do lots of traveling for pleasure. I've been lucky to be retired and I have a good time and travel a little. It's not as easy to travel as having the time off I find.

Write? I made some business cards when I retired that said: "Pretending to Write but Really Just Blogging." I later used a red pen to revise that to "Pretending to Blog but Really Just Tweeting."

Solving the world's problems? When I worked, I donated to causes. I thought maybe I'd be more hands on with volunteering when retired but actually I'm lazy and a little shy and so it's still financial support that I give to my causes.

Yes. I thought I'd do more. It used to seem like there would always be time. What's changed in the last year or so is that the time doesn't seem to stretch to the horizon and beyond. The time for my little life seems quite finite. On good days this seems fine, encouraging even. On bad ones a bit of a loss.

The things I do accomplish most days, weeks, months? Mild exercise (long walks and doubles tennis mostly). Keeping track of our investments and bills. Maintaining a daily blog of photos from Austin. Doing the minimal housework and arranging maintenance for our little apartment. Watching movies, TV and visiting with friends, going to plays and ballets and attending social events, many fundraisers. We don't cook much. We eat out a fair amount. In all these things but tennis I'm ably assisted by my long-suffering husband. It fills up the days. Completely most of the time. But I thought I'd do more.

Keeping A Record

Remember when having a picture of something involved film? Remember the furor over instant photography where the film developed right after you took it? But then to share it you had to send it off for reprints? These vintage cameras were for sale the other day in Uncommon Objects on South Congress. (For a reverie on the Polaroid Camera from five years ago see here.)

Remember when words on paper meant longhand, typing or typesetting?

Well, now it should be easier to keep a record of your life, right? Digital stills, digital videos, digital voice recorders; digital scanners to convert those old pictures and slides to pixels; computers to process our words and blogging sites like this to format them, date them, search them; and social media preserving your real-time comments and making sharing what you're doing so easy.

But somehow I still lose track of my life. Puzzle over what I did yesterday and wonder why I don't have a photo of something.

There is a comfort in it sometimes, though. That one can still get lost. Hide a bit from others and be a recluse.

Today is the first day of Holidailies. Drivel like this is supposed to be my gift to you my reader. But if it fell short just see what other participants have written that might enhance your day. I guess I'll be a little exposed here for the next month. However, I'm not going to be doing a blow-by-blow diary of my activities here most days. Just little ramblings. I have been keeping a diary offline lately. I used it yesterday to figure out when I last got a haircut. And so it goes.