Tuesday. November 13, 2001

OK, I'll stop this now. Although there were more of them. Except maybe I'll scan in a cover from The New Yorker from January 2000. (Yeah, I don't clean often enough. Aren't you glad you won't have to go through my stuff when I die?)

"It's not the most intellectual job in the world, but I do have to know the letters."

Vanna White

I'm dreaming of a plane flight on a very, very wide plane when it's time to get up. Sevenish. This plane was about twenty seats wide with several aisles. Like a big flying room. There was a long curtain and people behind it. The passengers clapped for what I thought were the last passengers to board. One of those 'well you finally got on board' things. I looked around because I thought two guys were going and didn't know if they'd gotten on board. It wasn't them. Well, I thought, I guess they are behind that curtain.

I get up and think that I will soon be doing these necessary tasks for straightening up the house and getting ready for the big dinner.

But the dream is prophetic and what I end up doing is being a travel agent. Making FFP's plan to go see Ballet Austin in Washington, D.C. And making plane reservations for my planned trip to NYC. There are several glitches and screw-ups (on my part and the WEB's) but I finally have it done. I also get a bunch of business e-mail that I feel I have to answer. (Yeah, well, I know I'm on vacation. I didn't have the e-mail tell people that. Probably should have.)

So, it's time to clean up the guest room. My office is getting better. The floor is more clear. I could live with this room as it is. (Assuming I just shut the door! No, really.)

The guest room has become my 'store travel stuff' room and packing room. As a result there are suitcases and a stack of things I didn't actually take to Europe and stuff like that all over the room. I could put this stuff in the closet if there weren't things in the closet that need to go to the thrift shop.

I attack this for a while, but don't finish. FFP wants some take-out from Chili's. I go to pick it up. We eat the take-out and I work the New York Times crossword with a little help from FFP and from a friend who drops by and helps with the food.

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Then it is time for Shopping with Mom. The ostensible purposes are to find a marble pastry board and to fill a charity box for a boy from age five to nine. We go to Bed, Bath and Beyond. I can't find the pastry thing but Mom persists and asks and we get one. Then we look around a bit. I buy a couple of little things including a box of little salt and pepper shakers so I can have one on each table when I have a dinner party.

We go to Eckerd's Drugs and get small toys, hard candies, pencils, comb, soap and such for the charity box. Mom wants to go to Academy, too. We find a boy's T-Shirt on sale for the box. Back at her house, we discuss putting candles in the fireplace, conclude that the things designed to hold such displays are either overpriced or too large or both. We decide maybe we will just get pillar candles and arrange them. (I'm afraid this means another trip to the linen store or craft store.)

Back home I tackle the great annual straighten, sort and discard project. I come across a puzzle I bought on ebay. I love map puzzles and this one had a 3-D map of downtown Manhattan so I'd bought it. I had never put it together because it is 1000 pieces. But I was thinking it would be fun for the holidays. And then I look at it. Downtown Manhattan. Geez, they're everywhere. So maybe the puzzle would be a downer or maybe it would be a good lesson for us all. I don't know.

But I don't get much further when SuRu says we should take a dog walk. She's been under the weather but is feeling a bit better and Zoey needs the exercise.

We walk over on Strass and those streets we describe as 'other side of the creek.' It gets dark. We put flashing lights on ourselves and Zoey. We get glimpses inside people's houses. They are very interesting. Not as interesting as mine, decoration-wise. But I would think that, wouldn't I? It's always different to walk by at night. One run down house has an unshaded window showing a desk with computer equipment. It looks empty otherwise at a glance. There is a car in the driveway with Missouri plates.

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Home again I'm almost tired. Chalow is tired. I have some salad for dinner. And a Coke. FFP is watching tapes of Boston Public and Ali McBeal. I don't like either show I decide. But I watch them. And then I watch some other TV and read newspapers and work crosswords instead of getting things straight. But I'll get it done. I will.

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<rant>

If you are teary-eyed over soccer moms who lost someone on 9/11 then read no further. And, yes, I really feel sorry for them.

But they could have died in a car wreck. Or discovered they had a runaway cancer. But because of 9/11, we hear their stories.

A message to you, my readers. Does someone depend on you? Maybe some kids depend on you to scrape up the mortgage and private school tuition and such? Maybe your spouse just depends on you to do stuff it would cost a fair amount to buy on the open market like cooking, shopping and child care? Yeah? So, get insurance. Life insurance. Term insurance will be fine. Buy some instead of getting that stack of DVDs and the latest electronics. Because if you die, I'm going to be sympathetic and bring casseroles and really ache for your loss to your family. But you are a smuck if you don't buy some insurance and I for one think that sad as it is, your family doesn't deserve the big house and the pool unless you find a way to pay for it, alive or dead. That's freedom. I'm much more sympathetic with people who lost their jobs and have financial losses. Life insurance is so easy. And you fancy pants employers with your big bonuses should have provided some, too. Or did you? Are these people really destitute already? It should take a lot longer. I'm not stupid. Oh, and when you are making those big bucks it might be smart to save a little, too. You know. For a rainy day. The bus boys at Windows on the World probably didn't have life insurance either. They probably put every penny into rent and food. Clothes for their kids. That's a bit sadder, don't you think? They really couldn't afford the insurance they needed.

</rant>

JUJUST TYPING
Shopping.
To collect what one will one day discard.