Saturday, September 21, 2002

there's the dog

"Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well."
Alexander Smith, Of Death and the Fear of Dying

Still, it felt different. SuRu and I walked the dogs around Tarrytown. We lounged at CC's Coffee shop. I considered doing a 'coffee crawl' piece on my WEB site. Hang out at the different places, rate the java, the pastries, the vibe. I can consider such frivilous stuff.

It was a nice cool day with a blue sky. I thought how I might get outside to enjoy such days more often.

When we got back from the walk, I answered some e-mails. SuRu called for me to come over and help her get her lawn mower out of the back of her CR/V. Easy job for two, ungainly for one. I walked over there. I was relaxed.

I called my dad and told him I probably wouldn't get by today because we were going out to this thing and I had to make food and I had to do something else for it. He said he was enjoying the weather and that he was watching some TV. That he'd go to church tomorrow.

We are going to a salon tonight. With a SuRu and a couple of couples. We have to take food. I decide to make deviled eggs. The food is supposed to be creative, though, so I decide to invent a new recipe. I make Russian Deviled Eggs. I use a fancy mustard I find in the fridge, some capers, some mayo, finely chopped onion, lemon pepper and lemon juice. I top them with cheap caviar. I'm totally in to this task, not worrying about how else I should spend my day

Then I write my monologue. I go all through notes I took while my mother was delusional, dreaming dreams she believed, hallucinating. I use her words, talk about her death. I practice it a couple of times, adlibing bits I haven't written. Maybe I'll do it, maybe I won't.

I shower up and get together thermo bags for food and heat some stuff that will be the contribution of one of the other couples...something FFP picked up at Central Market. I find some inexpensive wine to take and bag that up. I get everything together. Our friends come, one with some wine and a cheese cake.

The salon is at a 'complex' in East Austin. We eat and drink and talk and then people perform, doing monologues or poetry or dancing. I do my piece. It goes OK. As usual, my buddies Andrew and Darla encourage me. My friends like it, too.

We all come back here and talk about weird houses. Houses that defy explaining that we've encountered. We talk about woodwork, getting old, retirement. We pat Chalow.

It's been a nice evening. With old friends. Meeting some new people. And, of course, all the deviled eggs were eaten. That's the great thing about taking deviled eggs to a party.

JUST TYPING
On a Saturday.
What's different if you are retired?
Just that feeling.
That no one gave you the day.
It's just yours.