|
Tuesday June 13, 2000
"Fame is proof that the people are gullible." Ralph Waldo Emerson
ligths on Congress last Saturday night
|
|
disoriented Why? Because it's Tuesday but should be a weekend. Because the parent moving thing seems like a dream but it's happening. Only they are moving into a double garage and my guest room, it appears. Seller's builder is only about two months off when he originally said he'd be done. But tomorrow we will own their new house. They've already sold their old one. I work. Most interesting voice mail asking me if I was at an analyst's briefing in Mexico. Guy says he was there and someone said I was there but he didn't remember if I was. What? He says it was a good time Geez. I send and receive e-mail, discuss things, write up things, schedule things. In other words, I make the motions to do this big, slippery job. I get in my car to go to lunch without knowing where I want to go. End up at Arboretum Market and decide on Jason's Deli. It is too crowded, however, so I look in Williams-Sonoma (they aren't carrying Capressos anymore or even any coffee makers). Then I look in Saks. Then Clarksville Pottery. (Boy, they have lots of arty goods.) This is a high-end strip center now. They've added a Coach store, too. I buy nothing but time for the line to be shorter at Jason's. Then back to Jason's and I order a 1/4 Turkey muffuletta with chili. Every time I eat a muffuletta, I think of my Aunt Wynnie. She died in 1994 at age 74 from a complication of knee surgery. Not long before that, probably in the year or two before, I visited her. We went shopping, and had lunch. The lunch place (some little joint in Snyder Plaza near SMU in University Park in Dallas) had muffulettas. Aunt Wynnie had never had one. So we did. There is always something new to discover in the world. I'm glad I had that day with my Aunt Wynnie. And I'm glad she had a muffuletta before she died. When that clot escaped, landed in her good lung (she had one good one, lost a lot of the other to lung cancer probably brought on from breathing secondhand smoke) and killed her, she had lived a pretty good life and tried a lot of things including a muffuletta. In Jason's there is a guy with a laminated map of Austin, making notes on little sheets of paper. There is a couple and the man is talking about stock price and vesting of his options. In spite of the proximity to our office, I see no one else from my office dining in the restaurant. Well, no one else I know works there. The place is a busy buzz of badges and blue jeans, though. Actually, there are khakis, too. Few ties. After work, FFP and I go to Westwood. We see a couple of people we know in the workout room and in the parking lot. We shop. We cook. (Well, mostly FFP. I chop a zuchinni.) We clean up. (Well, we put the dishes in the dishwasher except for the double boiler which I wash.) I read the papers. The puzzle in the Times is already too hard and it's only Tuesday. I do some personal e-mail, some personal printing. I am too boring to write a journal. You should be reading Coffee Bean Goddess. That's one of my current favorites. Several others have dropped by the wayside of late. I'm not going to do that. No, I'm going to bore you to death. In any case, Coffee Bean Goddess is having close encounters with hummingbirds and tourists and slugs. And, I just realized, she doesn't say much about the patrons where she bar tends. Looks like she'd have some good stories at work. But nevermind, just read it. And look at the pictures. Of course, Rob (of the Book of Rob...clever name) has had offers to pay his Internet service after talking about not being able to pay the bill. Oddly, when the above-mentioned Coffee Bean Goddess (boy, I envy her for thinking up that name!) said she might have to change providers because disk space was costing too much, I started thinking about giving her space. (There is a marketing opportunity here, but I can't figure out exactly how to capitalize on it.) Anyway, Rob said he was surprised people offered to pay his bills but I don't know why he was. They sent him every Bendo he ask for. In any case, we don't want for anything here at LB's Journal and Scrapbook. (Boy, I need a snappy name. Must think of one.) We have all the Internet service and bendable, posable figures (including a few Bendos) that we need. You can send donations for the parents' house, though. Just kidding. |
|
