Saturday, December 21, 2002

shop window on S. 1st

"What can be done about the problems that beset our life? Nothing can be done, and nothingneeds to be done."

David Mamet, Writing in Restaurants, 1989

It is not enough to be h

The difference a weekend makes if you are retired is that everyone else is off, too. Of course, I don't have any shopping to do unless you count a trip to the grocery store to buy frozen spinach; fresh squash, zucchini, carrots and mushrooms and such; pastry sheets; milk; chips; cottage cheese; eggs; garbage bags; and such. (I will do this today or tomorrow as the spirit moves. Or maybe even Monday when some poor folks are working.) I am going to have raw vegies for a get together Monday and spinach casserole and fresh sauteed vegies for Christmas. (We are buying the heart of the dinner: smoked turkey, dressing, gravy. From a meat market nearby. We've ordered a cake. From Central Market, I think. FFP did this ordering. My mother-in-law is going to bring sweet potatoes, two salads and rolls. With only five of us this should provide leftovers for days.)

I have agreed to get going on the walkies by 8am instead of dawdling until 8:30 or even 9 like we usually do. FFP decides to get up early and, even though I stay in bed longer than he, I'm dressed and more or less ready at 7:15. I don't have my waist pack on with water bottles and camera and I haven't located my jacket and cap. Can't do these things until the last minute. Otherwise, Chalow realizes we are going and runs around in mad circles until we go, exhausting herself. And me.

The walk takes us to SoCo. We are the Urban Adventurers. Our sport changes whenever we add FFP. A friend says adding people to an event changes the dynamic. 'Tis true. This year without Mom will be changed, too. Subtracting changes the dynamic, too.

We wind around west of Congress, over to S. 1st, back to Congress, and down to Jo's for a coffee. Then back to the Texas French Bread and down the other side of Congress and back to our vehicle, left in front of Austin Motel/Sol y Luna. (This one has a sign 'So close in and yet so far out.')

We remarked on how Jo's chairs and tables look like they were bought at the street's junk shops and painted (nice, antique lawn chairs and tables), about how good the coffee and banana bread was (we split a piece of the bread three way). We comment on how many Mexican restaurants the area supports (we walked by five). We were tempted to sit in front of Guero's with the dogs. We've seen someone eat out there with a dog. But not one the size of either of ours.

People setting up to sell what looked like vintage clothing in the vacant lot had a chihuahua staked who set up a big fuss when our dogs showed up.

Home again, I consider wrapping presents and straightening up some of this mess in my office and the guest room. I downloaded a couple of digital shots from the walk. (I've been using my new camera so currently I have to walk upstairs to the Mac to do this.)

We thought about cooking migas but we were short of eggs and had no tomato. So we went to El Arroyo and had tamale omelets and coffee.

Then we went to Half Price Books on 183 and to Barnes and Noble in the Arboretum. FFP got a CD at each. I made noises like the one at B&N was a Christmas present. I didn't get him any other presents save the reading pillow that he's already gotten. He confessed that he had 'gotten me a couple of little things.' I suppose that I'll have to dig throught the piles of books we have and find something he's forgotten. This has worked a couple of times.

Home again, I feel sleepy. In fact, I felt sleepy at B&N. I was reading some PC magazines when FFP came up and introduced me to someone he knew who he'd bumped into Christmas shopping. I was supposed to know her, I think. I was enlisted to help her buy something for some hard to buy for relative who takes digital pictures of his kid.

I don't give into the sleepiness, though. I wrap my presents.

Of course, my version of 'wrapping' is to make some tags from scrap paper, find tissue and gift bags and tie the tags on. This whole operation, however, convinces me to clean out the closet where the gift bags and such are kept. This closet has 'potential gifts' (things I've accumulated to give as gifts but have yet to give away), gift wrap and bags and ribbon, empty boxes, packing material like bubble wrap and peanuts and tissue, some random party decorations and costume stuff. When I'm done with wrapping, everything has been pulled out, straightened, some stuff discarded and everything put away. You will be happy to know that cleaning that closet was on my 'to do' list. So I can check something off. That seems to be getting to be a rare thing. Checking something off the list as completely done.

So the day slips away. I'm sneezing from the dust in the closet. FFP inches around me (I've set up a card table in the already crowded 'room' that brings together the hall, kitchen, bedroom and big room), taking a shower, then going to the club, going the grocery store, then showering again and going out to see about the ballet performance and in between watching footbal games. After he is gone I'm finally hungry again. (We ate around 11, I think.) But I'm too lazy to do much about it. I decide to read old papers and watch TV. As I'm going through the papers I realize that I haven't dealt with last Sunday's papers. And tomorrow is Sunday again. Where does the time go? I snack on cheese and candy and pop some microwave popcorn that's been in the pantry too long, I think, and doesn't taste very good. FFP comes home. TV is a wasteland. Nothing in the papers I'm reading inspires either.

So I get in bed and read whatever book is on the bedside table instead. It's a collection of short stories. I've been reading the very first one for about three years, I think. Soon I'm asleep.

JUST TYPING
For the working.
The weekend before Christmas.
Has a certain gravity.
Even if Christmas is Wednesday.
Hanging.
In the middle of the week.
To me, the bookstore parking lot is overly crowded. The oddity of a day when things are closed and we should entertain our parents looms.
And I'm sorry that no one has talked me into devoting a table to a jigsaw puzzle and that no one will wear a bright Christmas sweater.