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Friday June 23, 2000 "Regrets are the natural property of gray hairs." Charles Dickens, Martin Chuzzlewit
Livestock?
Mopac jammin'
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never get old But consider the alternative! Mom thinks we unpacked some boxes with her meds into the garage of their house that they can't yet occupy. Dad is calm. He'll find them. "I hope they aren't under everything!" she says. "Were they in the van?" I ask. "Yes," she says with that little edge that says she is sure, but not sure and a little defiant to boot. I assure her that the must be on top as we unpacked the van last. Dad knows one able-bodied person in Austin besides us and our friends. He has already talked this guy into unloading a slab of granite and one of marble from his van to stow at the new house. I stop at the house on the way to work. The guy dutifully shows up to help him. I find Mom's meds in the garage. I go to work. The proposal is working for me. I like it. I'm feeling pretty good about stuff. At lunch, I go home to get some books on tape to loan to a friend hospitalized with Guillain-Barrι Syndrome . On the way back, I stop at Zen Japanese Fast Food for some gyoza, spicy tuna rolls and vegie rolls. (Hmm...this isn't too bad and is cheap.) The afternoon feels good at work, too. Six O'clock finds Mopac traffic unusually heavy. Fortunately, I only have to go a few miles on it. Forrest cooks cat fish and I chop zuchinni and yellow squash with onions and throw them in the steamer. We throw together some salads and actually sit down at the table and have dinner. With paper towels for napkins, but, all the same, a rare occurrence. Forrest opens a bottle of Chardonnay for us. I dash over to a neighbor's house to feed her cats. Only one shows up and seems disgruntled by the missing master. My friends LG and Pam come by. I make decaf coffee for Pam and LG sips some wine and we all talk. |
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