Sunday,
April 28, 2002
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S. 1st
"A thing derided is a thing
dead; a laughing man is stronger than a suffering man." |
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smells like skunk I toss and turn. The deodorizing spray and the skunky sulfury smell alternate in my nose. I have slept, though, and dreamt of asking well-kempt women in houses with many doors if I smell like skunk. Invariably, they say yes. They say it with the admiration it deserves, though.
FFP gets up before eight. He says the big room still stinks. I get the dog, let her out to do her business and throw her in the shower. I have her shampoo and a pitcher of dilute tomato juice. She tries to drink the tomato juice. I use the handheld to wet her down, cover her with the juice mixture, rub it in. (Is it an old wives' tale about the tomato juice? I hope not.) I shampoo her, too, and rinse her off and she digs the toweling off she gets. I guess she smells better. It's hard to say. Himself makes me a cup of coffee and goes off to buy many deordorizer things. They make me sneeze, but soon the house smells so many ways, I can't tell much. He says the garage smells, too. I can't tell. I start laughing about it. It's funny. It really is.
We have a benefit brunch at 11:30 and I'll have to be clean and dressed up. I call SuRu and tell her we need to go a bit earlier today for walkies.
Walkies take us on the new, not quite finished on this end, sidewalk to 'across the creek.' We never cross Bull Creek but manage to wander back and forth, get tired enough and sweaty.
Brunch benefits the St. David's Foundation. They support medical and dental care for elderly people and students with no money. The party is a New Orleans style brunch in a New Orleans style home on Lake Austin. Elmar Prambs from the Four Seasons cooks. I have a Bloody Mary, some coffee, the fruit, mini-beignets and a little cheese. Then they serve the actual meal. A tuna salad amd eggs Oscar or some such. Then there is dessert. I get some more coffee. I've had some 1997 Caymus Cab with the meal. I'm stuffed. No to dessert. We've enjoyed meeting some new people at our table. A young guy, between jobs and his wife who is a free lance writer of book jacket covers, an older guy who left Dell and went back and who flies and teaches flying and who is considering a Master's degree in Asian studies and his wife who is writing a book about genocide. The young couple is considering going back to school, too. It's something we no longer consider. We are older, I guess. More finished with what we are.
Given the food and drink, it's no surprise that I read and nap. Mostly nap. I call mother. She is trying not to take so many pain killers but she has trouble walking by herself. She's going to go to the doctor tomorrow and get a urinalysis. She says she "can't wait." She always hopes the doctor is going to cure her. I wonder why. Since they never do.
I read about Ballet Austin. On Tuesday at a fund-raising gathering I'm supposed to be conversant with the history and future of Ballet Austin. I read the papers. I watch television. Truthfully I nap a bit more. I read papers. We snack on queso and chips and later I have some cereal. The Simpsons is funny and King of the Hill but even Six Feet Under is getting tiresome. The dead always seem to die in accidents, someone has to have sex every ten minutes to propel the show, they've borrowed the Russian mafia from Third Watch. Real life is too dull, mostly. I sleep off and on in my chair but still go to bed too late. I dont sleep well when I first get there. I'm worried about a number of things. Work, my mother. Not sleeping doesn't help.
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178
JUST
TYPING