January 23, 2000

sunday dance

Sunday's routine is a bit different from other days. Even from Saturday. There is the hulking New York Times to deal with and the ads and travel in The Austin American-Statesman. Frankly, I'm not as enamored of the Sunday Times as those who only receive the Sunday edition. The weekday Times has a great and manageable section, The Living Arts without all those over-inked full page ads for movies that don't at that actually tell much about the movies. I do like the magazine, of course. And sometimes the Book Review insert is worthwhile, sometimes not. Travel is OK.

Today I got up when my hips ached even though I wanted to sleep more. It was already 8AM or something. I battled with the Capresso which has been fed beans too oily for its liking and so goes through a dance of needing reset, blown out and tapped before finally delivering the best crema Espresso on the planet. We gulped down some of this elixir, glanced through a little of the papers. (I looked through both papers' Travel sections. I also looked through the pile of ads from the Statesman. I'm in this 'no buy' mental zone, but I still look through the ads. It's mostly a sociological thing. Plus if I suddenly need jeans or underwear or some gadget I like to have a bank of ideas about where to go to look for them to avoid too much shopping.)

Then it was out to the yard. Forrest planted some more things and raked leaves around beds and fences in the front. He made mental notes about things he wanted the yard men to do. (Thought we did everything ourselves, huh? Far, far from it!) I tried to make myself useful. I fed the fire ants who survived yesterday's Amdro some more granules. I trimmed up calla lilly plants growing semi-submerged in the ponds. I added water to the ponds. (Having the hose untangled was a joy!) I cleaned out the bird bath and trimmed canna stalks in the bed they share with Asian Jasmine. It wouldn't look so ragged, I feel, if we hadn't already had one false spring. Forrest planted stuff in pots, swept, hacked frozen Grecian keys. "Did you plant these Paper Whites," I ask, marveling that they were eighteen inches high and blooming. "Maybe sometime, a long time ago."

It doesn't sound like much, does it? I was exhausted. We then moved some bromeliads into the house, into the big room, sitting on plastic trays I rescued from behind the shed and washed up yesterday. They were sitting in the storage room, having been saved from freezing on the north side of the house. We moved the pile of soft drinks and bottled water out of the middle of the room where they had dried off on a plastic sheet after being pulled out of an ice chest after a party which I have forgotten. (Maybe John Waters?) I cut up a huge computer box to get it out of the way.

I said yesterday that I didn't like gardening. I might say the same about housework. But it isn't really true. I do like to do this stuff. I admire the relentlessnes of decay and rebirth. I like working until I sweat (in January!) and feel tired and sleepy and good after a shower. It's just that there is never time to do everything and appreciate it and savor it.

After cleaning up it was almost noon. Forrest cooked chicken breasts and corn and made salad and we cleaned up the dishes. He watched some of the NFL playoffs which will lead to the Super Bowl and I was surprised that these two teams that were playing for the right to go to this big event were completely unknown to me. "Tennessee? Tennessee has a team?" I exclaim. "Used to be the Houston Oilers." I guess my dodge in getting through the newspapers by instantly tossing the Sports Page is leaving me helplessly ignorant of some things. Good. Though I do miss knowing what's up in the tennis world.

My afternoon consisted of working (if PowerPoint presentations can be considered work) and working on WEB stuff and some correspondence. I also tried to clean things up. The thing is, I stop to ponder an item's fate, read a piece of newspaper or try to deal with a scrap of paper. ("Why did I save this envelope? Do I have these people in my data base?") I did put away the old IBM Thinkpad I'd had sitting on my 'overflow table' (a card table I surely shouldn't need in this room which has lots of surfaces). I hooked it to the network when Mom was visiting over Christmas. I filed various things, tossed a punch of paper stuff. (There is always a paper recycling bag in here. It's almost always full!)

Forrest went off to Central Market to get 'goodies.' I declined to go. I'm so glad he will shop. Not to mention cook. I'm sometimes amazed at the items that come home (three bottles of cocktail sauce, was it on sale?). I'm glad they still have those little crates of Darling Clementines, surely the best tangerine I've ever tasted which bring to mind the mandarin oranges from the vast market in Barcelona in 1972 but that's another story.

Tonight we went to a benefit for Sharir+Bustamante Dance Works at Fonda San Miguel. We walked there. It is, after all, only two blocks. Would be an easy walk except for the lack of sidewalk or crossing lights. It was pretty crowded and hard to get at the buffet, but we had some good food and drink and some nice table companions. We recognized one couple. We all sat at the same table at the same event last year. We hadn't seen each other since then although they are nice sorts and they like dogs, too. We even remembered a dog story they were telling us last year. We had a good discussion of this and that with them and with another couple at our table. (A soon-to-be-married couple, she 30 and he 50.) Then we walked home. After we crossed the street, a car streaked up Shoal Creek going at least 60. Where are the cops when you need them?

"He had been kicked in the Head by a Mule when young and believed everything he read in the Sunday Papers"

George Ade, Fables in Slang. The Slim Girl