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Sunday July 15, 2001
"A mad dog neither drinks nor smokes, but that doesn't therefore make him a safe and pleasant companion.." Henry Cabot Lodge
beware of two of them...one is gentle
always in business at art house
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barking dogs FFP opts out of the dog walk. It's already steamy out when Chalow and I go to meet SuRu and Zoey. The neighborhood is quiet. No cars, bikes or joggers. Just a few birds. We go to the other side of Burnet. There are a few people about and a few cats. We trace a couple of miles, excite some dogs in their yards. (Including three in a tiny, junky yard with an owner who comes out to scowl and yell how he got tickets for something. Barking dogs comes to mind? Ours don't say a word, of course. They are people.) Mom and Dad are buying Forrest and I and his parents a lunch at Luby's in the ongoing celebration of his birthday. The parents are early and I'm barely dressed and out of the shower. They came straight from church. Mom needs a glass of water, Dad coffee and both a trip to the bathroom. We load up the van and go get FFP's parents. It's really a production to go anywhere. Dad makes me drive and he and FFP sit in the back. Getting everyone's seat belt on, getting them in and out of the car. Amazing. For the record, all the handicapped spots at Luby's were taken. Which is OK because, given time, they can all walk a few extra feet. And stand in line for food. Although my father-in-law has to use the cane all the time and needs someone to carry his tray. My mother-in-law raves about the food. I find it especially mediocre. Later I'll need to eat some 'good' bad junk food to make up for it. We go to my in-laws' house. Dad sits on a small couch in their small living room. I sit on the other side of it and...crack the leg cracks. They've had this thing since 1939. Perhaps my Dad and I are the heaviest weight it's ever held? Darn. Feel bad about that. Have to send the handyman over to fix it. We talk a while and go home. Mom says that her computer has been 'not going off.' Which I take to mean the screen saver isn't coming on. And now, according to her, it's telling her to pull the plug. She calls when she's home with more confusing lore. FFP and I take an excursion to fix it and get some boxes to get the LPs we are culling boxed up When we get there it is just off. It boots. I show her again how to ctrl-alt-del if she is in trouble, tell her to close windows when the screen saver isn't coming on or just don't worry about it or turn off the monitor. Windows is a mystery to her. And to me, of course. She has an e-mail when I fire it up. That pleases her, I can tell. We go to Office depot and get the right size boxes and a couple of ring binders for Forrest. Then we stop at the grocery store. And get things we shouldn't eat like cookies and some chips. We watch You Can Count on Me even though we've seen it. Forrest rented it. It's a pretty good movie in a lot of ways. The evening drifts by in television land with new episodes of Sex in the City and Six Feet Under. About the latter I'm starting to get depressed over the fact that someone has to die every week. Yes, I know. I'm the one that is always reminding everyone of their mortality and saying how comforting I find the fact that our lives have a known ending and an appoximate, statistical time for it. So maybe I should keep watching this show and taking my own medicine. So to speak.
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