Then I try to accomplish a little in the afternoon but there are the usual interruptions and then meetings where I sit there thinking that I would do some of the stuff I'm promising if I weren't in meetings.

We have a dinner engagement with our 'Monday Night Supper Club'. I should stay at work and just meet FFP there, but I'm so disgusted about meetings (and there were only two of them today) that I just leave at the appointed time.

We go to Bellagio. It isn't very busy. A few other tables. Some people who sat outside early on. (Too hot for me.) Two young women in red cocktail dresses dining together. We feel like we have the place to ourselves. We share a couple of bottles of wine among the six of us. (OK, maybe three.) We eat and share all kinds of stuff. An eggplant appetizer someone else gets is a star. My mussels are OK although I think this pesto sauce overwhelmes them whereas the French white wine is more to my liking. The calamari is great. My entreé is a rich ravioli that was a special. It isn't as good as I'd thought hearing the description. Good, though. It's a good thing it's not that captivating because I'm way full. Or maybe these things are related. All of us take home a bag of leftovers.

FFP sleeps while I watch Third Watch and Crossing Jordan on tape. And read a little. And drift into sleep. No coughing or sneezing tonight.

In the ongoing saga of my parents. My dad managed to find the lab where Mom was supposed to go. They had the lab work request. It was for a blood test. Good thing my dad understood she wasn't supposed to eat before it. Although the woman making plans at the pulmonary guy clearly told me (and him he says) a urinalysis. Or else we are crazy, too. Is it possible that the medical community actually drives us old folks to dementia? Anyway, when I talk to him, he's almost giddy with accomplishment. He found the lab, he got her there, he took her to IHOP after. ("She likes that. She says they have good decaf coffee and she hadn't had anything to eat. I brought her home and gave her a massage which she really liked. She was oohing and ahhing and I told her if she got her jollies it was extra.")

Later in the day, Mom talked about hurting but conceded it might be 'how she slept' or that she 'walked with the cane wrong.' She had helped Dad some in the kitchen. Later in the evening they discover the built-in frig in the kitchen is out. The good news is that we put an extra one in the laundry room that my friend SuRu gave us. So they have a place to rescue their food. My dad seems to have gotten things under control, though. And that seems to have given him some energy. He talked Mom into going to church on Sunday, has gotten her to walk around some and he got her lab work done. He's like me and feels better when he gets things like that handled. Do something about the little life hurdles and move on.

FFP and I have been discussing our own retirement, our own denouement. We have been exploring our budget, our investments, our options. One conclusion we reached is that keeping this house into our twilight years is more than just cost. Someone has to manage the property and hire and pay the people to do things. My radical suggestion that we get rid of most everything and live in hotels around the world with a few rental storage units caused my practical husband to say he'd prefer to have at least a small place to come home to, that we'd need a place to receive bills and investments and manage them. I find the discussion exciting. Beginnings and endings are exhilarating. We've lived in this house for twenty-five years. In a lot of ways, I'd like to live here until I die. But we may want to change something. I definitely think I want to reduce the amount of stuff I have around. I have started looking at my stuff as I move through my day, heere and at the office, asking myself about each thing my eyes fall on "Could I just walk away from that?" "Would a new one be easy to obtain at not a great cost?" "What is the real sentimental value of this?" It's a fun game, I must say.