invigorating then sneezing

I drag out of bed, lost in complex dreams. I didn't drink that much last night. A vodka gimlet and then sharing a bottle of wine with three other people. Finally, I get up. Nightly backups stalled. We puzzle that a bit. Then I call SuRu. She sounds less than fully eager but eventually the whole urban adventuring team rounds up and we go to a brand new neighborhood. For us. Not the houses. In fact they are little ranches and seedy bungalows in a neighborhood fleshed out in the late fifties and early sixties, I think. There are a few ugly infills, one raw grayed cedar infill duplex that looks pretty cool. But the neighborhood is new to us. And by our rules we get points for going down streets we've never trod. And points in both directions at that. Violet Crown Heights. Burnet Heights. That's what the map says. Not a bad neighborhood. Not an upscale one either. Reasonably close in.

After the walk, we dump the dogs. We consider going to Chez Zee (too crowded), head into Northwest Hills, briefly consider the Vietnamese place from last night and while actually trying to go in the direction of 183 and Lamar notice the Northwest Hills El Arroyo. Not crowded. I have a shrimp omelet and FFP and tamale one and SuRu some breakfast tacos. I feel like a nap.

FFP is outside working on some yard stuff. He comes in he and says he is going for a Miracle Gro thing for the hose. I watch TV and look at some papers and doze pleasantly. I wake up and stretch and decide that I want to really spend some time with him. I go outside, help haul the hose around, do a little weeding here and there. I stand around and watch him plant things, mostly just seeing what he is up to, seeing what needs fixing in the yard. Always a lot is the answer.

He wants to go to the club and read for a few minutes in the sun. I go take a shower to get clean enough for the pool and put on my bathing suit and we go. I swim six or seven laps, maybe more. I put on the 45 sun block and, after I'm out, put on a hat, then cover my legs, put on my T-Shirt. Feels good, though. A little swimming, a tiny bit of sun. The pool is overrun with kids and parents but there are a couple of lanes for lap swimming. In the wading pool is a little girl in a plastic flat designed to look like a Kawasaki jet ski. Another little girl in the wading pool has floatation in her suit. Which hardly seems necessary for an eighteen inch pool. A little breeze kicks up and blows a styro cup and then someone's newspaper into the pool.

We stop at the grocery store for orange juice, green onions, mandarin orange slices, spinach. At home, I shower off the chlorine and wash out my suit. FFP writes a letter to the GD of Long Center with some thoughts on fund raising from small, independent Austin businesses and I read it for him. I write a poem for a ninety-three-year-old lady in Sout Africa and a note to my friend there. I show FFP once again how to use my digital camera. He wants to shoot something for a client next week.