Follow the Rules!

Whoa! I was just looking at Holidailies and wait, wait...am I supposed to post 32 times??

I'm such a rule follower. I feel compelled to post with another 'stolen' shop window reflection image and tell you that I ate like a queen last night. (And drank like one, too.)

For NYE we got dressed up a little after eight, walked a few blocks, and went to a secluded romantic dining room. (Jezebel, tucked away inside the Bar Mirabeau on Sixth Street.) After eating and drinking some great adult beverages, we walked back to the apartment in the rain. Rain! We needed it. We had our umbrellas. Young people stood in lines to get in various venues, most without umbrellas. Safely home, we dosed through midnight and I was rudely awakened by someone setting off (illegally) fireworks nearby later.

Yesterday was a day of feeling closed in by life's circumstances. News of a cousin's husband's death reached me. The phone discussions with other relatives brought other tales of time catching up to all. I worked through some of the end of year and end of quarter and end of month duties including getting two forms with checks ready to mail to the IRS. I worked on other preparation for tax time as did Forrest. There is a feeling with me on New Year's Eve not of a new start the next day but of having run out of time in the year.

Today we stayed abed rather late. Although holidays are not that different than other days for us since we retired we sometimes adopt the attitude of the rest of the world and sleep in a bit and lounge around in our sweats until noon. (OK, we do this on workdays occasionally, too.) I ate so much last night I thought I'd never eat again but I did indeed, consuming a bowl of black-eyed peas and some cheese and crackers.

We watched part of the Rose Bowl Parade. I worked the NY Times puzzles. The crossword was in honor of the Emancipation Proclamation but also managed to include the word 'dementia' which struck me as funny because every time I complete a puzzle I'm doing a little brain dance to prove that I haven't succumbed to it.

We were invited to an open house last night which we didn't make because of some of the above phone calls and the dismal weather and the fact that we'd have to drive there (but could walk to dinner later). We were invited to one today, too, and we made this one, toting a bottle of wine for the party-giver.

It was an Open House and we were on the early end of it. We talked and got a got tour of the guy's place in another downtown condo building. We'd never been in these, and enjoyed another perspective. He had all kinds of food that he was pulling out: shrimp in cocktail sauce, sausage balls, cheese, ham, black-eyed pea salad and cornbread. A few more people came. When we finally left I'd had a tour of the art on the walls, we'd had a lot of linking discussions. I'd eaten too much and had a little wine. We walked to Book People which was crowded with people taking advantage of their big 20% off sale. But we didn't buy anything. Too many books at home that need reading. I'm still reading the one I got for Christmas and I'm still reading a book I bought in Sag Harbor in the summer. (I've been reading it by the bedside, a few pages at a time.) There are piles more I need to read.

So we are home getting ready for an evening in front of the TV. Drinking coffee. Watching DVDs instead of football. I haven't done anything real useful today. But. It's a holiday.

So, now...this is really the end of Holidailies, right? Bye for now.

Out without a Bang

It's over. The year. The 2012 Holidailies.

It should be a time of new beginnings. Of new resolutions and resoluteness.

For me it seems to be more like a rehashing. The papers are full of recaps of 2012. My 'to do' list is a series of 2012 things: this tax return schedule, that quarterly payment. Starting fresh seems impossible faced with these things.

I could resolve to handle such things better in 2013. But, the fact is, given the available information and my advancing age, I did all right. I guess.

In the past I made resolutions about exercise, diet, organization, money, writing, reading, volunteering, friendships, time management as well as strange and obscure ones about riding the bus or learning to play Bridge.

It bores me to think about it.

I don't want to resolve to write here every day. (I'd probably blow that one tomorrow.) I don't want to resolve to keep up my other blog (Austin, TX Daily Photo) that I have faithfully executed for over five years. I might just end that one, too. I certainly don't want to resolve to keep up on facebook, twitter, Pinterest, Google Plus or any other social media.

So I think this will be it.

I resolve to live fully in the moment at hand as best I can and to do things a little differently every day to shake things up. 

Meanwhile there is a long list of those 'to do' things I can't avoid. So I'll just do some of them.

It's been fun with Holidailies, really, with an outside 'force' making me write something. I also took time to read samples from other blogs. That was good. Thanks to Chip and Jette and the reader's panel for the work. Goodbye to all that for at least a year and to 2012.

Where's this Conversation Going?

The photo was taken in July. Shorts weather. Blackmail shop window, I think on South Congress. But that's not where I'm going today.

I had brunch with four girlfriends.

The conversation began while we were waiting for our table. I said to one friend: "Is that a new muffler?" She had a pretty scarf on, but she asserted that she'd had it a long time. She said, "You know you have stuff and sometimes you don't take it out of the box...."

I mentioned that I had a muffler I bought in Germany in 1972. It always amazed me that I'd never lost it. Then I said that I still had a lap blanket I bought on that trip...a souvenir from the already over Olympics in Munich. Another friend said I should find out if it was worth anything. This segued into researching values on eBay and the Internet and how "Antiques Roadshow" folks seemed so naive about what they had.

One friend told the story of a friend's family who found, after the patriarch died, a book by Winston Churchill that was signed. Which transported her to other stories about that family including a show at the Paramount where they had front row seats. Which led me to say I preferred row T there. And caused her to say what her niece, the opera singer, said about the best seats in a hall. Which led another friend to say that she had seen a performance of a choir in Paris that she knew said niece had sometimes performed with. And she was surprised that she was, indeed, there. Which led to a description of poor accommodations on that trip. A room that smelled of smoke. And a discussion of smoking regulation and anecdotes about same.

And we hadn't even sat down. Sitting down we covered more ground. Banks, online banking, driving on ice and snow, finding old letters.

Outside, as we were leaving, we recounted all the houses and apartments one gal has lived in, all in the Austin area. None of us, not even she, could quickly summarize.

And so it goes. A conversational flow.

This is the penultimate day of Holidailies. It's been fun, I suppose but I think I will welcome 2013 with a little more silence online. Or not. At least I met this simple challenge: type something here every day. And the conversation sort of flowed at times....

Hat For Every Head

I've been goofing off, reading in my easy chair and pretending to care about football, and in the back of my mind trying to think what to write in this space for the 29th day of Holidailies.

We got two holiday cards today. One from someone who is the child of college friends of mine who sends pictures of her husband and young child and who lives maybe five miles away. Another from a proud grandfather, mailed from Seattle where he's helping with his daughter's new twins, a continent away from his own home. I hadn't sent either a card. I will now, though, to complete the loop. (Besides I have a box full still unused.)

Earlier I was sifting through social media, thinking about people and their posts of children and snow and their comments about things received and places visited and new babies.

And I decided to say: any kind of communication works for me. Whatever the frequency or form. It's good to reach out.

I've had two Manhattans and I really have nothing else to say except keep writing and talking and blogging and tweeting, snapping pictures and sending missives far and wide. Emails, snail mails, blasts to all your 'friends.' Whatever. Just keep talking.

We have to keep up the chatter.

[Photo taken at a wonderful hat store, a venerable brand but new to Austin.]

Less is More

Now comes that time of the year, that last few days on the calendar, when people start to say "Well, that's over. Next year will be better."

And they start wrapping things up. Lists of best books, movies, moments, achievements, news stories, the departed.

And they start making resolutions.

Oh, I've done it.

But this year I have resolved that, if I resolve for 2013 at all, I'd make one and only one declaration. And one terse enough to tweet.

I've had lots of ideas.

• Try to say no more than is absolutely necessary for communication and conversation.

• Give yourself a break. Every single day.

• Write down what you eat, drink and do so you can figure out what works. But assume most things are coincidence.

• Embrace complexity.

• Learn one thing every day.

I've made long boring lists before. I've even made myself assess progress against them. But I just can't do it. Maybe I'll revisit those old efforts in the waning days of this Holidailies exercise. Just to fill the space and convince myself of past futility. Because, after all, I did resolve to write something for every day of this December. But a brief foray into that old stuff would "bore me terrifically" I'm afraid.

[Note on the picture: One more self-portrait as a vague shadow. There's a theme there somewhere. Taken at one of the household shops on North Lamar.]

Wasted Days and Wasted Nights

It is not that I never accomplish anything. Slowly, slowly I get things done.

When we aren't out of town I make a little progress managing our financial life every day. I'll pay a bill, record stuff on spreadsheets and Quickbooks, balance with the banks, verify credit card bills.

I move stuff around. I almost never leave a room without picking up shoes, a cup, a glass, something that belongs somewhere else.

And I clean. Why just the other day I cleaned off the stove top. We keep our main pots and pans there and we don't cook much. The lids get dusty or spotted with stuff from the one burner we use. I cleaned everything thoroughly including the stove top itself with the special cleaner. For a bonus I scrubbed out the microwave, cleaned the door and washed the gclass turn table. This took longer than it should.

Today I almost cleaned the master bath. I did everything but use glass cleaner on the shower enclosure and rinse out the tub we never use. (Like the stove top it gets dusty!) This took longer than it should.

I move forward but my pace is just slow. Also I have to claim as accomplishments taking a walk or meeting up with friends.

I even seem to read more slowly than ever, not getting through the papers until late in the day and slowly plowing through my books.

Ah, well. Tomorrow I'm going to accomplish one cleaning task while FFP goes for a massage. And I'm going to 'waste' time reading or working puzzles or taking a walk or going to the gym. After all, I'm retired.

Seasons Greetings, Postal Division

I almost never opt out of the mailing of physical missives to people during the holidays. I think I did in 2010, an odd and distressing fall just didn't give me an opening for such things. 

I'm not religious. I've come to think of the New Year coming along as just a more intense month and quarter end for taxes and forms and such.

 But I do think it's a great thing to trot out our list and send something physical to people. See if the thing gets returned by the P.O. and you've lost track of someone. (This happened once this year so far but the address was perfect. Resent and it didn't come back.) Maybe include a little note for people that you infrequently (or never) connect with via email or social media or, whoa, 'in person.' 

This year I took a professional shot I'd purchased from a photographer with us and our building and some of the other skyline behind us, had Snapfish print it with "Season's Greetings from our backyard. Forrest and Linda." I ordered a couple of hundred, with envelopes. As of today (the day after Christmas) I have prepared  89 cards. Some I sent after receiving one from another party. Some I sent one day and, in a sort of mind meld, got one from those folks the next day. I have received, as of Christmas Eve, 57 cards for people and 15 from organizations or businesses. 

I used various 'forever' stamps with patriotic images but a lot of people used Christmas stamps.

Of course, we received cartoon animals (always at least one cat). We got various sort of not really holiday cards with swan or boat or deco design or reference to Mayan Apocalypse.

And we got our share of traditional themes and even some religious ones.

There were plenty of personalized ones with pictures of people with their kids or just pictures of the kids, some with elaborate multi-picture chronicles. Some included pets or obvious future children in baby bumps.

And a couple were just pix of the dog part of the family.

A number included elaborate recounting of 2012, often illustrated. I managed to read most of these to be end.

I'm sure we will receive a few more in the coming week. And I'll mail a few more, too. And then I'll start to wonder if I should do it next year. I've thought of saving the ones I received and making collages on blank cards next year. Or going back to a really mechanized approach with no hand-written notes, pre-printed labels, rubber stamped return addresses. This year I hand-addressed them and hand-wrote the return addresses. I used (and verified and corrected entries in) a database with 626 entries some of whom I'd never send a card to and a few of whom I don't remember who they are. I usually have to delete a few entries (or remove one name) this time of year to acknowledge deaths. Haven't had any break-ups (that I know of) lately but that happens, too.
It seems to be a lot of wasted effort in this era of electronic things, but still I go on and so do many others. For me, it's always a diminishing return in shear numbers (I send more than I receive) but there is a positive psychic return. And in the 'you just never know category' someone I once exchanged cards with but who is now just a facebook acquaintance from the past, found one of our cards from 28 years ago and published it on my timeline. So, I leave you, dear readers with this old sentiment from a time when these dogs were alive and we wore strange glasses: "Have a Warm and Cuddly 2013!"

Christmas Morning, Enjoying the Time

When I was a kid, we'd bound up on Christmas morning and see what Santa left (these gifts were never wrapped) and see if there was anything in our stocking cooler than fruit and nuts. Then we'd play with our toys and maybe go to our grandmother's for the meal and 'the tree' (where you unwrapped gifts that weren't from Santa but from your family but could sometimes, if you were very lucky, include something besides clothes). We often had a lot of time to wait for the 'tree' because we'd wait for Dad to be there and he often took a shift at the V.A. hospital where he was an attendant. Extra pay on holidays. Or he'd be doing some farm chore that didn't respect the holiday. Finally we'd rip into the gifts, sometimes all at once, sometimes having everyone wait patiently while we unwrapped in order, usually youngest to oldest. Sometimes the opposite, though. Often the little kids would pass the packages around making a pile for each person.

When all was said and done, you'd have a bunch of presents. You'd have a trash can full of ripped paper, ribbon and tape. (Or some relative would be trying to preserve it for recycling.) You'd have eaten the traditional meal. My favorites were homemade rolls, homemade dressing and giblet gravy and homemade cinnamon rolls, maybe some cherry pie. Turkey was an after thought to me. I just had a little piece to enable some more gravy. We might be enlisted to set the table, to clear it, to help wash and dry dishes. Finally we'd get some time with our presents. You might start to read a book, enlist someone to play your new game or assemble or play with your new toy. Usually something would break or disappoint in some way by day's end. You might even end up getting out some old favorite thing (Monopoly or a toy you were really too old for) and engaging with it.

There was a not real pleasant denouement until you settled in with your new stuff and then you spent the rest of your vacation just glad not to be in school.

Today we got up at our usual time (some time between 7 and 8 although FFP usually rises early to take some pills and then returns to bed).

We exchanged gifts yesterday morning so there were no gifts. FFP had his usual oatmeal breakfast. I don't do breakfast but had several cups of coffee. We ate out the last couple of days and when I got hungry I reheated leftovers brought home from restaurants and had that. So did FFP.

I worked the NY Times crossword and Ken-Ken. Easy today because it's Tuesday and I always enjoy the ones I can do. A bit of a Christmas present by Christmas being a Tuesday. Crossword theme was 'Secret Santa' with that in circled cells strewn through longer clues.

We watched some episodes from the first season of the "Sopranos." (Not a very merry activity! But enlightening.) We got the disks at a going out of business sale for a music and video store (Cheapo Discs) yesterday.

I read some of the Arts section of my NY Times. I made a call to Colorado, timed to be able to talk to all of the relatives gathering for a second Christmas gift exchange. The chaos on the line reminded me of those Christmases of old as described above.

But I enjoy Christmas this way. Time to read the paper, work puzzles, play a game of Scrabble against myself on the iPhone and to write a blog entry. Maybe before we go out to a late afternoon rendezvous I'll have a nap. This peaceful gift of time is a wonderful thing. I have plenty of toys and books. Just need to take time to enjoy them.

Joy

Sometimes it's the simplest things. I'm giving myself a break from cares for the day.

We exchanged gifts. FFP gave me a book. ("My Bookstore: Writers Celebrate Their Favorite Places to Browse, Read, and Shop."). I gave him a stud and cuff link set. He also got me my favorite bath product earlier and I 'let' him buy a driving cap and fedora.

We shopped a used video and music store that's going out of business. (Cheapo Disks.) Bought some weird movies and old TV for next to nothing.

We ate at a new, fancy oyster bar. Some raw oysters and some delicious chowder.

I could be doing financial stuff or cleaning. But I'm going to read and watch videos or TV and drink coffee.

Later we will meet four friends at Ruth's Chris for Christmas Eve dinner.

Joy.

Presents

This graffiti is in South Austin. On Monroe I think. The streets really are full of presents for me. When I'm not depressed and I walk: every twig and feather, every piece of trash, every person and what they are wearing, every house, every car, every dog, every sign seems interesting. When I am depressed these same things don't seem interesting but they do distract me from my depression.

Today I was not depressed. Life seemed full of possibilities and new things to be conquered. When I'm not depressed, that's how it is. The NY Times Magazine crossword was easy. With help from FFP I finished it. Completely. No cheating. I enjoyed it. I learned a new word. Lanose if you must know. I told FFP that the blogs would rate it easy. They did. I don't care. I finished. I enjoyed.

We ate at a new place. Lucky Robot. Food was fine. You ordered and paid with an electronic gizmo on your table. The waitress was nice.

FFP shopped for hats. I was patient.

We went to Armadillo Christmas which was overcrowded. We heard music from afar. (Carolyn Wonderland.) Our friends wanted to leave and go to Threadgill's. No arguments from us. We had some drinks and food. We talked of many things. Memory and its fickle workings, the old Armadillo piano that's been brought back to Threadgill's, fine dining in NYC, couples' secret languages, books.

We came home to an evening of reading and TV. I tramped around a lot south of the river today. The streets really were full of presents for me in my current mental state. And so it goes.

A Mere Reflection of Cheer

After two Blood Marys and much chatter at the Headliners mid-day Christmas party yesterday I snapped this picture in the foyer mirror while FFP ushered some people into the elevator as we were leaving. Yes I have on a red blazer. It is twenty (or thirty?) years old. I liked the bright red ball display in the foyer. The decoration here at our house is still confined to one little bendable Santa perched among the holiday cards we've received.

We went to another party last night. It didn't make me more cheerful although there were gas log fires, many stockings hung by the chimneys with care, an enormous live tree and Christmas music and people sporting the most outrageous Christmas sweaters.

It's not that I'm not cheerful. I'm just not especially cheerful. The season is not pumping me up.

The highlight of my day yesterday might have been an e-mail I noticed on my iPhone on the way to that second party notifying me that this entry was selected as a"Best of Holidailies "by a distinguished panel of readers" that  "has been reviewing all entries posted to the Holidailies portal."

As you may know, dear reader, I've been posting every day because the Holidailies portal was set up this year to urge participants to do so. My friends Chip and Jette are behind this activity. They are assisted by the panel of readers. There are 97 full-blown participants (registering each post with the portal) and there are more who just registered a link to their journal, er blog. I thought writing in this blog form (know as online journal or diary in the olden days of the Internet) would be good for me. A gift for myself if not for the readers.

But it's not a contest, right? It's not about seeing a number by your name that is close to the number of days of Holidailies. It's not about getting a 'best of.' No. No. It's about writing. Pixels to screen. Words. Sentences. Paragraphs. Leading to the people reading and getting some value perhaps. Or leading to self knowledge. It's about editing a picture for each day and wondering why you like the distance and opacity of reflection pictures so much.

Still... acknowledgement cheers me a little. Someone read about the great gifts my parents (well, Mom mostly) gave me. They thought about it. And said, "Hmmm. Interesting. Good even. Maybe 'Best of'."

And so I add the 22nd entry in this Holidailies. There it is: "Welcome to Day 22 of Holidailies" and by my name as soon as I register it the number 22. One of thousands of this antiquated thing called an online journal entry.

The Weather Outside...

Well it's not that frightful. This is a window at the local Brooks Brothers store, I think, shot back in November. In any case, we did get some cool weather although last night I walked several miles with just a sweater and leather jacket and a muffler. It wasn't windy and didn't feel that cold. And, of course, no snow.

We are going to a 'bad Christmas sweater and karaoke' party tonight. I don't have a bad sweater. I'll wear some funny pins if I can find them. I will not sing. Even if they do mean for the karaoke to be bad as well.

I bought two bottles of champagne and two of Rye whiskey today. They are just 'thank you' gifts for hosts and some other folks. I wouldn't call them Christmas presents. I may try to sneak out for a surprise for FFP tomorrow. Or not.

Some would say I'm not 'in the spirit.' But I've been having the spirits. I had two Bloody Marys at lunch. I had two really nice glasses of wine last night. It's possible I will drink every day right through and including Christmas.

At least I haven't said Bah Humbug. Until now. I just did.

But, no. Really. It's fine. Let's celebrate. And rejoice. And such. Or, you do it and I'll toast you for it.

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.