The Visible Woman...May 10, 2003

A day in which I contemplate people's collections, the things they cherish and save from destruction.

Anyone who reads these pages often knows that I often think about stuff.

Our good friend Johnny took us on a private tour of his friend Mary's house amid the crowds of the actual tour and docents who knew far less about the appointments. "Seventeenth century French," he'd say, pointing to a mirror. "She found this frame and ask Mick to paint something for it." "They are good friends with Julie Speed and have a lot of her early work." "They collect him," he'd say sweeping his hand at some Daddy-Os (realistic paintings from photos by Bob 'Daddy-O Wade) and then, pointing at one of them, "that one is Mary and her father." He'd duck under the ribbons meant to keep people out of rooms and show us Julie Speeds or other art or collectibles that otherwise you wouldn't get to see. He even showed us the office where, you guessed it, everything else was piled for the tour! The couple who owned the house loved Johnny so thoroughly they forgave him even this. And, because we were his friends, were extra friendly to us even thought the home tour was obviously frazzling them.

The contents of that house were amazing. There was a shell room with intricate arrangements of shells and things made from shells. Not just any shells, though. Fantastic rare stuff. The art was selected and displayed magnificantly. The collectibles and furniture were obviously the result of a lifelong habit of finding things one likes and assembling them, from family heirlooms to purchases from all over.

What we surround ourselves is so interesting. Looking at that house, I delighted in the pieces and how they looked together. While my tastes are slightly different, I really grooved on most of it.

What you don't see, though, in a house full of collections is what isn't there. What went out the back door to make room for the right piece, the right painting, the correct arrangement on a table. You could fill a house, two houses with what such a person has had to discard or store or sell to achieve the look they have. There is great skill in acquiring the right things, but there is also skill in casting off things.

That's a skill I need to get better at. And I fully intend to do it, too. Soon.

part of my globe collection on top of my bookcaase in my office "All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd." Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice	collections A day in which I contemplate people's collections, the things they cherish and save from destruction. Anyone who reads these pages often knows that I often think about stuff. Our good friend Johnny took us on a private tour of his friend Mary's house amid the crowds of the actual tour and docents who knew far less about the appointments. "Seventeenth century French," he'd say, pointing to a mirror. "She found this frame and ask Mick to paint something for it." "They are good friends with Julie Speed and have a lot of her early work." "They collect him," he'd say sweeping his hand at some Daddy-Os (realistic paintings from photos by Bob 'Daddy-O Wade) and then, pointing at one of them, "that one is Mary and her father." He'd duck under the ribbons meant to keep people out of rooms and show us Julie Speeds or other art or collectibles that otherwise you wouldn't get to see. He even showed us the office where, you guessed it, everything else was piled for the tour! The couple who owned the house loved Johnny so thoroughly they forgave him even this. And, because we were his friends, were extra friendly to us even thought the home tour was obviously frazzling them. The contents of that house were amazing. There was a shell room with intricate arrangements of shells and things made from shells. Not just any shells, though. Fantastic rare stuff. The art was selected and displayed magnificantly. The collectibles and furniture were obviously the result of a lifelong habit of finding things one likes and assembling them, from family heirlooms to purchases from all over. What we surround ourselves is so interesting. Looking at that house, I delighted in the pieces and how they looked together. While my tastes are slightly different, I really grooved on most of it. What you don't see, though, in a house full of collections is what isn't there. What went out the back door to make room for the right piece, the right painting, the correct arrangement on a table. You could fill a house, two houses with what such a person has had to discard or store or sell to achieve the look they have. There is great skill in acquiring the right things, but there is also skill in casting off things. That's a skill I need to get better at. And I fully intend to do it, too. Soon.
JUST TYPING Collect it Arrange it Sort it Store it Dust it Move it Insure it Restore it Die and leave it
		Food Diary. another couple of cups of coffee water 1pm Reuben (huge sandwich) with chips that have 210 calories and 80 from fat but have 30 per cent less fat than they used to have (or something..there was something about 30 per cent less fat on the package). 7pm bacon-wrapped filet (6 ounces?), salad with no-fat dressing (broccoli, carrots, onions, cheese, spinach), several glasses red wine 10pm generous glass red wine
		Time flies.... Got up about 8. FFP staying in bed doesn't help me get up. Get dressed and knock about writing on my WEB page a little and drinking coffee. a little after 9 Go to club. 9:17 arrive at club 10:17 leave club 10:25 home shower,dress, check computer 10:48 called niece on phone 11:06 go to home tour Arrive at home tour, get materials; af first home we saw some people we knew and talked to them while touring house. Next house I'd seen on another hour tour but FFP hadn't. Lost him once here. Next house we saw someone we knew who was good friends with the owner and he took us on a 'private' tour. Next house had too long a line. Stopped to talk to someone we knew, however. Next house was the Pemberton castle. Short line so we visited it. It's now 1pm or so so we leave without seeing other three houses. Go to New World Deli and eat. Go to Cooper's and get stuff for Mother's Day meal. Go home and work on journal and straightening office. Friend from Netherlands (old work buddy) e-mails that he is in town. I have some old LPs in my closet that I was going to take to the thrift store but he wants to go through them. Give him directions to house. Buddy from across the street comes over about duplicating some audio stuff for us. Other friend comes and I sit with him and talk while he looks through recods. He takes four boxes away. (For the record I believe this is a day when less came in than went out. A victory. Plus, the ones he left I will give to the thrift store and so I'll be rid of that, too.) 6pm Friend leaves. FFP is outside gardening. I should help him but I don't want to get sweaty so I decide to work on cleaning my office. I sort through a few papers and, shortly, FFP comes in and gets in the shower while I sear a couple of bacon-wrapped filets and get out salad making. When he's out of the shower, he picks a wine and we dine. The wine is a 1973 Petite Syrah we bought at an auction. We figure it's gone but it's not, it is actually drinkable. We watch the first part of The Green Mile while we eat. I saw most of it once, but I missed the first part. I've never sat down and watched it. We turn off the TV at the point in the movie 'where we came in' and I read a few newspaper sections and FFP has a doze. Around 9pm we rouse ourselves and go to Four Seasons to meet a friend. We listen to Rebecca and I have a glass of wine and some water. By 11:30 it is too loud. Too loud to hear the conversation at our table (we've established a sort of Stammtisch with Rebecca's boyfriend and other friends). We are tired when we arrive home. Imagine that? Bed.

		Reading. I am now reading Robert Massie's Peter the Great in earnest...on the bike and at stop lights. It is quite long (over eight hundred pages in the paperback form I'm reading). I am still reading bits of Journey Through Genius in small bites. From it I learn that there is an entire book of nothing but different proofs of the Pythagorean theorem. I read bits of newspaper, of course.
		Really I should omit this section which is just shaming me.
		Exercise 50 minutes on bike (Used a different bike and it said I burned 330 calories whereas I'll bet the one I usually use would have said 500. Do you suppose either has any accuracy? Nah.)
		Feel pretty good physically. Seem to need to go to the bathroom all day long. 116/66 77 103/72 86

Saturday, May 10, 2003

A Journal from Austin, Texas. A Project of LBFFP Stealth Publishing.