Monday, December 9, 2002

trombone player in our yard...shot long ago...I'm sorting pictures, you know

"Time is very dangerous without a rigid routine. If you do the same thing every day at the same time for the same length of time, you'll save yourself from many a sink. Routine is a condition of survival."

Flannery O'Connor

I wake up to the sounds of real rain. The bed feels good. But I get up, brush my teeth, put on sweats and tennis shoes. I discover that the redirection service (www.mydomain.com) that I use for viswoman.com and zootdining.com is not working. I figure it will clear up although hours later it hasn't. I'm not really upset about my site but we like to keep Zoot up as it is a client.

I fool around on the computer a little. It's interesting going through and sorting old pictures.

But I must do things. I gather up the Christmas mailers and put them in a plastic bag. I go to the club. It's busy. Someone who, with a slight change of scenery, could look homeless (umkempt graying hair, gray beard, slightly unsteady gait) is getting a session with a personal trainer. Women who look oh so fit or a little anorexic are racing to nowhere on steppers and bikes. A man says to another, "When I went to Dell, I thought, in two years..." and trails off so I can't hear him.

My favorite bike is free and I climb on with my book. I go for thirty minutes and 250 calories and then do the five lower body machines I favor. I slip in before a class occupies these machines. While I'm on the bike a raccoon rambles up outside foraging around. He elicits a little interest from the workout folks and startles a club worker walking outside. I guess his nocturnal ramblings were curtailed by rain.

My first errand after the workout is to get the holiday mailers out and the second is to get Saturday's mail out of the box at Dad's. So I go by the post office on Far West. On the way I have to buy gas because the warning light is on.

At the post office, a group of women is stymied by the fact that the drawer won't open. I start putting my mailers in the slot. Then the drawer starts working and they crowd around to put in mailers and packages. One woman says, "That's one errand done," in my direction. I tell her I'm ahead of her because I've had a workout and gotten gas.

At Dad's I get in the mail. A soggy Christmas card and a few ads and a medical statement for him and for my mom. Mom's notices are still coming in even though she died three months ago. Someday it will all be resolved, I suppose.

I gather a few more things of my mom's for the thrift store. I don't go by there for drop off, though, because it's still raining enough to make it unpleasant to make those trips in and out of the store. Maybe later.

I'm hungry even though it's early. At home, FFP cooks some salmon and heats up a can of field peas. I clean up and he eats an apple and I eat a banana.

In my new drive to read the paper in real time, I settle in my office with the TV going and the papers.

FFP wants me to decide on investments. This is so he won't feel guilty if they go badly and because he's probably tired of spending the time deciding.. I accept that some investments work, some don't. Watching CNBC and using the Internet to research stuff doesn't make me feel smarter, it only serves to confuse further. I finally make a decision about twenty percent of the money we are trying to place at the moment. It's too late to place the order so it goes in for tomorrow. The broker calls FFP back to tell him why it's not a good choice. This increases my confidence, actually.

When the rain has let up and my head is full of economic indicators and ticker symbols, I go to the thrift store. There are two volunteers there and one cheerfully helps me unload the car. They seem pleased with some of the more esoteric donations. Unfortunately, the guest room is still a disaster. When I get home, I move a few things around on the walls and get a few more things hanging up. Still, I'm going to have to find a way to get some stuff stowed in the closet or give some more stuff away.

I shower up and we go to a party at a law office downtown. Forrest is friends with one of the lawyers. Because they are on a board together, thankfully, since I think divorce is her specialty. We get there at the beginning hour of the party and things really aren't ready to go. We are pathologically punctual. We have a dinner invite so we are just trying to have a few apps and drinks and go from there. The food is good and I have a couple of drinks. There is a bunch of original art around and I know one of the artists and then the hostess introduces me to another who is at the party. It is a wonderful art collection and a perfect capital view. Divorces are lucrative, I think. For lawyers. The food and drink flows. We wonder how much one could garner in freebies this time of year, freeloading off others.

We see a judge we know whom we haven't seen in a real long time. We see lawyers similarly and a few people FFP knows from the ballet.

Then we are off to our friend Anne's for some curry. She has this great curry with all these condiments and some vegies. We take a 1985 Beringer Cab. I drink a few glasses of it. We watch Third Watch and Crossing Jordan. The latter was short on ME mysteries and had too much friendship/romance slop. The former was OK except the outcome of the chief's 'girl on the side' bit was completely unbelievable. Also, Faith's um 'faith' in doing the right thing seems ridiculous. She must have had to bend the rules as much as anyone. Yes, I'm a TV critic, uh huh.

We go home and read a little before bed. I'm secretly glad not much is planned the next two days because I think Thursday-Monday is going to be a social whirlwind. At least I don't have to work! And I don't have anything else too pressing to do.

JUST TYPING
The rain wants to keep me in bed.
It wants to interfere with emptying the car at the thrift store.
And being rid of things.
It rains and rains.
Is it letting up?
Maybe, maybe not.