Sunday,
February 17, 2002
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. shop window...Uncommon Objects
I have an endless supply of these, well maybe not but you'll probably get tired of them...
"I first realized that I was
really a writer when I became almost physically ill after letting too
long a time lapse without doing any writing."
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some work, some sloth We wake up pretty early given we are vacationing. You can smell the coffee going. I've been dreaming. A work colleague who hired me at the company long ago then left and is recently back after a long absence from the company is in the dream. He has made a prototype of a product in the dream. With old watches. Software from old watches? How creative. We get showers and go out and have way too much breakfast including some kind of French toast. I never eat breakfast. It's good, though. And it's home. To reality. To the stuff that I left behind Friday afternoon.
Yes, I actually worked. Or at least I did what passes for work for me anymore. PowerPoint. And I sent it off. Somewhere in the afternoon, we got a call from Forrest's mother. His dad had a flu or something and was having bad chills. A doctor was going to prescribe something and we were to pick it up for them. And we finally did after a bit of confusion. The first time we went, it wasn't there and, in fact, the doctor hadn't called it in. We picked up some stuff we needed and FFP went back later. I thought of going for a walk but I never did. I read some, worked some on this journal including downloading all those shop window pictures. It was a nice weekend. FFP and I are going to have another 'getaway' weekend in a few weeks. I hope it will be as big a success as this one. I think it will be. We will have to plan a little better, though. We can't just say "we will come home if we've forgotten anything" because we are actually leaving town. But no airplanes. We have friends going through health crises that are likely to end badly soon. When things like that happen to people, I always swear I'm going to put things into perspective myself. Take my nows happily. And sometimes, you know, I actually do it. The Olympics continue. There are endless ways to slide and perform on snow and ice, aren't there?
Sometime after the drugs had been delivered to FFP's parents, Forrest proposed we go to Barnes and Noble. He might have proposed cheap Mexican food. The Arboretum B&N and good, cheap Mexican food don't go together too well. I suggested the campus B&N and Dirty Martin's. And hamburgers instead of cheap Mex. (Yes, I am the same person who was ragging on Green Pastures about my precious sensibilities for ambiance, food and service.)
So off we went. Cheeseburgers and tater tots (onion rings for himself) consumed, the coating of grease protecting our palates, we got in the car and headed for the drag. Mistake. We should have just walked from Dirty's. The campus was hopping. But we finally found a parking spot without paying and went to B&N for a bit. I looked through a Robert Frank photography book, triggered by the Meyerowitz book. (The former influenced the latter.) Forrest got what he was looking for...a copy of The Gay Place to give to someone else...and we left after a bit of wandering around. A nice silly excursion to end our leisurely weekend.
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177
JUST
TYPING