AUSTIN, Texas, June 25, 2005 — I really hate it when people say "it's all good." It seems like they say it when, in fact, you have screwed up or things are really, well, not good.

Today I had two goals. Get a haircut. Get a good workout. Beyond that I figured I'd finish the batch of films I had out for screening, watch some Wimbledon, get some reading done, maybe some trip planning. We've agreed to socialization starting fairly early in the evening.

I wake up a couple of times and finally get up pretty early, shower and put on workout clothes. A little after eight-thirty I take off for the barber shop. She opens at nine, I think, but I will join the parking lot queue. That means I'm second because when I get there another guy is already there. A couple of other guys pull up, too, after me and the barber has a line as soon as she has opened the blinds, made a pot of coffee. She puts the tennis on but I'm in the chair, without glasses, so I can't really see it. That's okay, it's pouring into my DVR at home. So much tennis, so little time.

Jane, the barber, is full of herself as usual. She talks of her problems with menopause while the men in the shop stay silent. She's getting IVs of Vitamin C for fibromyalgia or something. I get my haircut while a guy chases his little kid around. The little guy is going to get his first haircut. Dad is snapping pictures of him, discussing an eye problem he has with Jane while Jane gives him instructions on how the first haircut is going to go. I don't see it, though. I'm out the door.

I go to the gym. Ride the bike an hour while watching tennis until it goes off ESPN and switches to NBC. I get up and switch one of the TVs to NBC and do some arm exercises with twelve-pount weights and drink water while watching that. I go over to a mat under the TVs to do some situps and an ab exercise called 'the plank' and a woman gets on a treadmill in front of the TV and switches the programming to a soap opera or something. I am not troubled. It is all pouring into that DVR at home. I decide to go home.

At home, I eat some lunch (tuna fish salad, spinach salad with carrots, onions, broccoli, cheese, almonds, etc.). I watch the rest of the films that I have checked out to screen for AFF. Then I flip through the tennis. I get distracted for a while doing the free credit reports you can now get if you live in Texas. Then more tennis while reading newspapers from Friday. Then a couple of quiz shows off the DVR, a shower, dressing in something appropriately Vegas.

We went out with a young friend of ours for the third or fourth time lately. Recently estranged from a boyfriend of long-standing she is finding her way through the maze of single life again. The three of us have been threading our way through the 'things to do' in Austin. She has joined us at Cedar Street and Copa seeking jazz nirvana. Tonight we will check out a sit down drink and food at 219 West.

We get to the downtown district, score a prime and free parking place on 3rd next to the new building the ballet is renovating. We walk over to the warehouse district at 219 West. We have carpaccio, little filets, ceviche and drinks. They turn out a perfecto Manhattan for me. Just the way I like it.

About eight we head over to Austin Music Hall. The event is Viva Las Vegas. It's a fundraiser for AIDS Services Austin and their legal program. Our buddy, a local DJ, had a media pass for general admission. FFP told the organizers he couldn't buy the VIP tickets because we were going with her. This inspired them to upgrade her pass. So we go in a VIP door. We aren't sure what this gets us except an opportunity to donate a little more, which is fine. They are taking photos of couples on a Harley with an (optional?) 'just married' sign. (Sorry, Rick Perry.) We pass, though. We wander in, use some drink tickets. We find a VIP area where volunteers offer to fill plates with food and martinis are being whipped up. We aren't much on gambling, but we do go to the roulette table at last. There are those amusing characters...the ones who think they are actually in Vegas. The ones who just enjoy gambling even just for fun. We try to lose all the money but don't really succeed. We will give our chips away on the way out.

We wander the silent auction. We don't want to bid because we don't know how easy or hard the checkout will be. But we look anyway. Different groups entertain. The first band is too, too loud. The Austin Baptist Women are amusing. Mr. Fabulous' band is fine if his singing is less than stellar. We meet and greet a few people. I am looking for a friend I never see. I finish a Shiner Bock. Finally, late, I have a martini. With gin. I know. Gin is risky. The martini, mixed in the VIP area, is, however, perfect. The live auction starts. It is having a little trouble getting going. We notice after they finish one auction that they lead the people to a table right beside us in the VIP area to pay. The last item is a wine dinner for ten people at a fabulous house that belongs to some friends of ours. Forrest and I set a limit and decide to give the bidding a boost. In fact, we get the thing. We go talk to the representative from the restaurant and the guys who own the house. They are glad we got it. We discuss the possibility of having the party in August. Scheduling these things is always a challenge. It will be fun, though. We tell our buddy the DJ she'll be invited.

We decide to go home.

At home, FFP watches the UT baseball game on the DVR. I fall asleep. There was that martini after all and it's very late.

It's all good? Well, it's all something.