old things are new again

I have got to quit sleeping in. It's unseemly. My (still working, didn't he say he'd retire once?) hubby is up early to get in a workout before a 9:30 appointment. So I struggle out of bed and get off to the club. I keep getting drawn back to the '123s' book I'm putting together for my great nephew. Why do kids books need to rhyme? Why does anything? It just does. Anyway, I put it aside and go for my workout. I have developed a rhythm that has one day lower body, one day upper, one day just aerobic. So I just ride the bike for 45+ minutes and then go back home. I can't dawdle. I have a lunch date. So I shower up and dress and get my act on track. I'm struggling with the 123's book and it's almost time to go. The doorbell rings.

It's Dad. He's hiding from the maid. (We are so much alike.) So he's gone and gotten a haircut. There is a tiny bandaid on his cheek.

"What did you do to your face?"

"She nicked me. She was going for a stray hair and nicked me." he says, grinning.

"Did you get a free haircut at least?"

"No!" he says, laughing now.

"Do you want a cup of coffee?" I ask. He doesn't drink coffee anymore except for the occasional cup from our Capresso. And he tried out a new coffeemaker from his granddaughter to make sure it would work for guests. As he gets older he keeps having to give up things to get along with his body. He barely drinks, too. Reading isn't bad for him, though, and he can still see. That's what I have to look forward to.

I tell him I've got a lunch date and I'm in a hurry a little and that I'm working on Jack's birthday present.

"I sent him a check," he says. My dad doesn't do presents unless it's money because he does not like to shop. He will occasionally have me shop or order something for him.

He sits down at the kitchen table with his coffee and starts reading The New York Times. He probably read the Austin paper at his house. He often mentions things in the Austin paper like the invasion of coyotes into some areas and stuff that interests him.

The phone rings a couple of times. My signal to pick it up. It's Forrest, upstairs. He wants to know if he can print a PDF on the color printers downstairs. I go up and consider installing the printer so he can use it on the network but decide it's easier if he lets me do it. He just e-mails me the PDF. Which is kind of silly since I guess I could have remembered a file name while getting downstairs. We e-mail lots of stuff to each other just to get it in front of the other one. Doesn't it seem funny that it runs out to our ISP and back into the house? It does to me.

Of course, Adobe won't start because I have too much else going on my WIN98 machine with all the accumulated flaws of installing crap and not getting fixes and stuff. I should take the time to fix this or upgrade to WIN2000 or buy a new, more powerful machine with its own flaws. The last time I did that I left an old WIN95 machine to do nothing but support the scanner, a printer, a Jaz drive and a CDROM dictionary. It does it flawlessly, one thing at a time. Similarly, FFP has a left behind machine on the network with his old text-based word processor and files just in case he needs them. We are pitiful.

So I have to boot my machine. But I get it done and get FFP's print out for a client meeting this afternoon.

I have an e-mail from my lunch dates that they will be 'five minutes late.' I go on and Dad leaves with me. I feel bad that I had an appointment. I need to spend more time with him. Doing what? I'm not sure.

My companions are more like fifteen minutes late. It's OK. I have time. I stand around in Dan McClusky's which hasn't changed or been painted since the late 80's that I can tell. They don't seem to have that much business. And yet they go on. And the salmon and vegies I have are delicious. The vegies have crisp snow peas. The salmon has a few bones but is grilled just right. One of my companions works at my old place of employment. He tells me a sad tale of corporate waste ("let's rename the product"). It makes me glad I don't work there. Oh, I miss the technical stuff sometimes and the money and the benefits. But the naming, renaming and the marketeers who think they are doing something? Nope. He also tells me about MBAs brought in to classify products who have classified dead products as 'rising stars' because, though sales were low now they had a high ROI. In other words, nobody was working on them because they were dead but some salesman sold one copy. Ha. It's funny when you don't have to deal with it.

Besides the salmon, I have a salad with Bleu Cheese dressing. It's good. My buddy pays which means I owe these folks a lunch or dinner. That's cool. We need to get together again. They are nice. And these stories are worth the time. The guy's wife is doing something interesting with this book she has that is actually an electronic hyperbook with Java-generated graphs. I'm not sure what it's about but her work sounds a lot more refined than making '123' books for kids. Ah, well. Perhaps I will find something worthy or my self-annointed intellect?

Home again, I stick into the 123 book. Best to get it done, do the best I can and get it off to the kid. A noble experiment. Actually the pages coming out don't look too bad.

I've offered my friend SuRu whose birthday was yesterday a dinner out tonight in that vein. Another friend took her out last night, the multitude of girls took her to lunch yesterday. At first she didn't want to do it becasue she's fretting over a painting job she's having done at her house. But she has changed her mind. She says in an e-mail that she will call when she gets home.

FFP has been busy with clients all afternoon, but he comes down. I tell him that I'm going to take SuRu out, what does he think, does he want to go? He says, "Good. Zoot is open again, we can try it out." Zoot has undergone a management change and is now in the hands of the original chef among others. I have high hopes because I've heard the kitchen will be in the hands of Mike, a guy whose food I always liked who was always a sous to someone. FFP calls and gets them to save our table.

FFP picks out a wine ( 1996 Pine Ridge Cab) to take. Zoot will remain the best 'take your own wine and let us cook for you' place, I hope. We pick up SuRu (who has gone for the Zoot gambit easily) and go down there. We claim our table. We discuss the wine which the staff has opened quickly for us. We discuss whether, after another remodel at the end of March, our table will still exist. Stewart Scruggs, the original chef, comes out and says 'hello.' The place is jumping. FFP speculates that a lot of the people are investors. I have joked that I invest in restaurants by dining in them. In our heyday, when money was rolling in and I was working, this wasn't really a joke!

We get an amuse bouche of a little peppery cracker with smoken salmon. It's great. Tremendous. Fantastic. Then we get a Foie Gras on French Toast to split. Oh my. I order grilled artichoke bottoms and carmelized onions with lemon aioli. And duck with Gnochi, figs and slaw. The duck is so, so good. I love figs. The slaw is just right. The duck is tender and juicy. HMMM. FFP raves about his fish and I taste SuRu's pork which is simple but delicious. I think it's a winner.

FFP invites SuRu over to watch Law and Order with us. We drop her off to pick up Zoey. She says they can use another short escape from paint fumes.

At home, in the minutes leading up to the show, I fold laundry. I try to fit in some domestic stuff around my other duties whatever they actually are.

We watch the show and SuRu goes home. I go into my office and finish up the 123s book, putting the now dry printed pages in the folder. Now I just have to get my little nephew's presents mailed to him. I also have a couple of other books, a puzzle and a magic paint with water book. I'm trying to give him simple things. Soon enough with the computers, Game Boys, Playstations, X-boxes, remote-control race cars and whatever hasn't been invented yet. I'm sure he'll see it and want it and sometimes his (great) Aunt Lin will capitulate. Right now, he enjoys the simpler things but not, I suspect, for long.