Friday, November 15, 2002

view off Reichstag roof at Brandenberg Gate and Pariser Platz (no visible bears)

"I haven't exercised in 100 years. (Slight exaggeration.)"
LB, February 4, 1992

[I'm occasionally reviewing old, hand-written notebooks and I've decided to quote myself now and again.]

I wake up amid dreams of critters. Someone is tying a rope through trees. An ape of some ilk is untying it. Then I am chased by two black bears. They don't seem very large, though. Babies maybe. I lie very still and they go away and I get inside a building. Someone knocks. There is no peephole and we are afraid to open it, afraid we will be facing a bear. Then I'm filling the car with gas and when I get back in there are two polar bears in the back seat. Only small. Babies? Perhaps this is my payback for torturing you with bears.

I go for a workout. I'm finishing my book (man and boy by Tony Parsons) and so I ride to nowhere on the stationery bike longer than usual. And even though I do five minutes on the rowing to nowhere and my leg exercises, I get back on the bike to try to finish it.

There is an older man a couple of bikes over.

He says, "Did you call my wife about what to wear?"

I look over. He has on a rust-colored T-Shirt and blue shorts. He doesn't notice that my shorts aren't blue but actually a sort of snakeskin print of blue and black. I don't mention it, though.

"I just get some pair of shorts and some shirt out in the dark," I say. And it's almost true.

I only finish the book at home, drinking some heated up coffee I made yesterday for the meeting.

So I don't have time to hack on the bamboo before going for my appointment. I'm wondering why I said that I would go back to my old company for a catfish dinner and a plaque. There is no such thing as a free lunch. And appointments mean that you have to change your pace and actually be somewhere at an appointed time. Actually show up. Showered.

Instead of being out in the glorious day (have I mentioned how the weather has been glorious all week?), maybe watching the ducks on Shoal Creek or actually turning the bamboo corner of the yard into something nicer, I have to shower up and go there.

Plaque. Free lunch. That was the drill. The president asserted that I had singlehandedly written all these products. At least he gave me the microphone so I could say I was surprised to hear that and was sure some of the people milling around with their catfish were, too. I got some catfish. Talked to people. Smiled. I felt good but not because of the wooden plaque. Becuase I am retired and I no longer have to pretend I know how to do this job.

I go to Dad's. We fill out a change of beneficiary on some account that we have sent in the change to him being the only owner. I give him an e-mail from his friend in Germany and he gives me back the story I've written about his Sunday School friend with a couple of changes.

I go through a few of my mother's clothes. I organize another sack for a thrift store and take a few things to try myself. An Eddie Bauer mock turtle and a sweatshirt or two. There is a red and silver sweater she always wore at Christmas. It really, really reminds me of mother. That makes me sad and I stop.

I take Dad to Target. He buys two long-sleeved Henleys and a light cotton V-Neck sweater for his trip. We are in and out quickly. He thinks there are a lot of people in the parking lot, but he is wrong. I tell him that we are retired, we don't shop on weekends.

I drop him at home and go to Fry's. Fry's is so scary. I find a DVD player and talk to a twenty-something salesman. (Was he even twenty?)

I walk around the store with it (these elecronics weigh nothing these days) and look at other things: toys, books, can openers, digital cameras, coffee pots, computers, etc. This store has everything. When I decide to exit, though, I get out quickly and go home and hook the DVD up. It works. For a while and then the TV starts to show 'no signal.' Which isn't the DVD's fault.

This is a problem we have had since the HiFi people sold us the German TV that wants to invade Poland. We only bought this TV because our not so old one lost horizontal hold. We later got that fixed and now have an outsized 35- inch TV in the bedroom.

I call those people, the High Fidelity, Inc. people to name names. I am past angry about paying a lot of money for stuff not to work. I am livid. They agree to come replace the cable between the TV and the amp (which is a loaner they charged me $125 to loan because they said it was maybe the amp and my amp is somewhere on a work bench somewhere not misbehaving). I still think it's the TV. But that's just me.

The guy on the phone insults me: "I know you are frustrated becasue you are the one that can't watch it!" Hell, I didn't even want to watch the damn thing. I was trying to replace the DVD player they sold us which lasted what? Two years or less. I wouldn't buy one from them because they would charge more and still shake their heads when it didn't work after one day or one year.

So there. I wash my hands of it. If it works, it works. If it doesn't, it doesn't. The guy said, "It's not like we aren't trying. That cable is in the wall! And we might need to replace it." And you, dude put it there! You personally not just the company collected a big fee to do that. We hired you to wire the room and you got a lot of bucks. Everything is where you put it. So, no, if you are building a media room I wouldn't recommend them. Do it yourself. Buy stuff from Fry's and string the wires in plain sight, and enjoy.

The tenth anniversary of an opera outreach program for gays and lesbians is this year and there is a reception tonight. We've been joining this group for some good pre-opera entertainment for some time. They are charging money tonight to raise money for a James Armstrong music school scholarship honoring Joe McClain, the recently ousted artistic director for Austin Lyric Opera. They always have fine programs and we are interested to visit with Joe and his partner (Forrest has spoken to them on the phone). FFP doesn't feel well but we go and we enjoy the food and company. I am telling people about being retired and about Berlin. FFP discovers someone he went to high school that he hasn't seen in ages. We see a lot of buddies. There are tributes to Joe and Cheryl Parrish sings and it's great. There was some good donated food and drink, too.

toasting with friends (our neighbors Pete and Harry)

Again about the spam. If there is no subject and a first name only...then it's a rule that it's a pornography come on, right? And what is the deal with making the stuff look like a reply. As in 'Re: Your Free Homer Simpson Bottle Opener with Porno Subscription.' Just kidding. No free Homer Openers. Do you think it says 'doh?' The latest in this onslaught is a note that has a subject 'I hardily endorse this product or service' with a sender 'Krusty the Clown.' I never had opened the Homer Bottle Opener ones. But I just had to do it and yes...it was the bottle opener!

And there seems to be a rash of them now that want me to open a dollar store. Trust me, I'm not tempted.

The spam is taking on a Christmas theme now that it is less than two weeks to Thanksgiving. They want me to give the Homer Simpson bottle opener as a stocking stuffer. The mini radio-controlled cars are no longer available in stores.

And the offers to view photos of singles in my area continue. Thanks, anyway, I know plenty of single people. Married and attached ones, too.

Now that I'm analyzing the stream of messages as opposed to being irritated by getting rid of them, I actually look forward to the task. And the spam does serve a purpose. I never wonder if my e-mail is working when you folks don't write!

JUST TYPING
Free lunch.
But what is the price?
It's always good to ask.
And sometimes.
You buy.
To see who else shows up.
And.
What they say.