Thursday. December 13, 2001

long may it, er, wave

"A patriot is a fool in ev'ry age. ".

Alexander Pope

I wake up feeling good. I take some Echinecea to insure against another relapse. I can't believe I was sick enough to actually stay home.

So do I work and get a lot done? No, I do not. I have found out that next Wednesday afternoon I have a meeting. That is the last moment that I could go on vacation and use up my allotment. And, indeed, there seem to be many meetings looming. But not this afternoon. So I take it.

First, a glorious meal with FFP. At first we were going to meet at Bert's Barbecue. In fact, we do so. But he suggests we walk a few doors down to El Arroyo. I used to love the barbecue chicken dishes a decade ago at the original (ditch) location. We have some nachos (OK) and barbecue chicken enchiladas. So moist and tender that chicken. Wow. Everything I remembered and more.

I stop briefly in Blockbuster to see if any of the 'For Sale' DVDs look like good presents. I should know better. We like esoteric, difficult, well cult anyway, films.

I stop at a toy store on Far West, looking for something for my mom to give my great nephew. Nothing suits. I go to Learning Express where, in any case, I have a frequent buyer card. I pick a small Bob the Builder Duplo and a little three door garage with keys to each door that are color-coded. The cars inside propel out somehow. It's as close as I can get to something my niece said he admired...a box with lots of doors and different latches. They quickly wrap them for me.

I go to mom and dad's house and have a nice talk with dad while waiting for Mom to come home from a Christmas party with the miniature club. She returns with a bunch of tiny presents. They had an exchange but everyone else gave out favors, they didn't tell her about this tradition. Next year she'll be buying or making a dozen things, I guess. She appears to have had fun. She finds Christmas tags for the packages for the great nephew and I'm off to the mailing place.

The gen-Y (or beyond) kid who waits on me is very poised and efficient, to my surprise. I mail a couple of packages and a bunch of envelopes with calendars inside.

Unless Mom talks me into a mailing job, I'm through mailing for Christmas. Yea! A milestone, always. And, as much as I say I'm doing none of it, something I always end up doing a bit. But much, much less than in some years past when I sent a gift to all my cousins' kids. And friends and their kids. Enough. Enough. It's better to give gifts at odd times, unexpectedly. Isn't it? I hope so.

Then I buy FFP a present. Since he is a large percentage of the readership of this thing, I can't, of course, say what. No. I can say this. While browsing Clarksville Pottery (an Austin standby gift and art store) I overheard a man and a clerk.

"I'll bring her in to look at it. I have given her these [inaudible] cats for years. They are all over her house. But she now has this log vacation home and this would look perfect there, I think. Is this the first time you've sold this artist?"

They step over to a large artistic stone fountain. The price is several thousand dollars.

"No, in fact, you wouldn't think so with the slowdown in the economy and all but we've recently sold two of them."

And I'll also say this. Saks gave me a mimosa. Pressed it on me.

"Don't hesitate to come back for another."

And gave me decorated cookies, too.

At three in the afternoon, there were lots of women trying out cosmetics. There is a reason that cosmetics dominate the store.

I go home. The weather was pouring and cold this morning. It had turned to sunny and lovely when I hit Mom's house. By the time I leave Arboretum Market, bold clouds have appeared. But my disposition is stunning. Stellar.

I get home and talk to FFP. We decide to wind up our Christmas shopping with a visit to Barnes and Noble. He has the family's only frequent reader card so I hate to buy there without him. We drive out there and split up for thirty minutes. I pick two books for my dad and he picks some books on tape for his. I think we will leave with only gifts (so noble) but, no, right at the register, FFP succumbs to the Best American Short Stories of 2001. Oddly, I'd considered buying it for him but didn't know how to surprise him, given the discount card and all. Very Gift of the Magi in a perverted, new millennium kind of way. Or not.

At home, I drink a nice cup of Echinecea tea to cement my recovery. And have an early snooze in the easy chair.

JUST TYPING
Things are on the upswing.
I can take the tough problems.
I can be strong.
I can make decisions.
It's amazing what a little bit of health can do.