Monday,
October 28, 2002
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us, at the ballet fete recently
"The events in our lives happen
in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves, they find
their own order...the continuous thread of revelation."
It is not enough to be happy; it is necessary, in addition, that others not be. |
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trip minus one I'm up pretty early. It is after all later than it seems. Or not. But I stayed up really late, too. I decide to get my workout and get on with my day. I will undoubtably skip my workout tomorrow while I do the final countdown to the airport. I've done very well doing some form or the other of exercise every day of retirement except those spent in traveling. So far I've had three days of lots of driving. Tomorrow I'll have lots of flying. I'll have close to twenty hours of traveling from my house to arrival at a hotel in Berlin. If all goes well. Planes, airports, etc. FFP driving me on this end. A bus or taxi or U-bahn on that end. This is the part I dislike about travel. But the theory was that I'd be less troubled by it in retirement. Less defensive of the waste of my time, less fearful of arriving not being myself. We will see. This did work with the car trip. I had time to drive the open road. I had time to recover after the drives.
My workout goes well. I'm not improving by leaps and bounds but I'm improving. I feel better. Maybe I've even lost a pound or two.
I shower up after the workout and go over and pick up Dad. We go to Barton Creek Mall. I know. Twice. In one week. I get him a flu shot at a little kiosk set up outside the movies and we go to J.C. Penny's and get him some new dress shoes. He wore his walking shoes and we really didn't walk that far but he felt it. He needs to walk more.
We go to North by Northwest for lunch. I have a big (8oz) burger. I almost never have burgers but I feel like it. Dad has Chicken Pot Pie. I've brought him a print of an e-mail journal from his friend who is living in Germany. That will keep him busy. She writes great journals. This one takes her on a trip to Georgia. As in formerly the Soviet Union Georgia.
At home, I hammer down the packing. I always make sure that I can lift any bag I'm taking over my head and hold it a few seconds. I'm serious.
Gayle, our bookkeeper, is here today. FFP is thawing some chicken breasts and has talked her into making something. I go off to the store for fresh basil, goat cheese, green onions, mushrooms, carrots and bread crumbs. They don't have fresh basil so I get some in a jar. The resulting goat-cheesed stuffed chicken with white wine mushroom sauce and and carrots with maple syrup are outstanding. Wow. We drink a little wine and watch Boston Public and Third Watch. Tomorrow I go on a trip to Berlin. For fun. Because I'm retired and I can. See you in a week or two here.
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177
JUST
TYPING