The Visible Woman...March 27, 2003

Got up and showered and dressed in old TShirt and ratty sweat pants. Did laundry including bleaching the white stuff to clean up the linen cocktail napkins and dish towels used to clean up wine splatter.

Dad asked me if I could find a copy of his living will. I went through the safe and then remembered that it was in this other lock box. Sorting through the safe is always interesting. There is always something in there I've kind of forgotten we had or where it was.

Then I go on a chase for an application for a handicapped parking shield for my dad. Because the TxDot site was down this kept getting to a dead end. Finally, I realized I was there but the page wasn't coming up. Finally it came alive and I printed the form but not before talking to a lady at Travis County (where you go for the permit) about it. Dad came by and I gave him a copy of the living will and the forms and he went off to the doctor to get them filled out. He sometimes can't walk from outlying parking lots comfortably although he is doing better and practicing on his short street.

I dress and FFP and I go to have lunch with a woman who runs a WEB site selling stuff for moms. She is interesting and enjoys exchanging ideas with us. She uses Yahoo store software to run her business.

I go home and set up a free trial of a Yahoo store to see what it is like. It doesn't seem too hard although I don't want to actually get a bank credit card account or all that so I can't really open a store and, of course, I have nothing to sell.

I get to the gym for a workout. FFP is at a meeting so I eat badly, snacking on cheese and chips and such. He rinses some strawberries when he gets home and I have some of those.

We explore the nothingness of TVland and I read the papers a little and then I go into the office to log off from things so the nightly backups can run. I hear a crash from the back of the house. FFP has had a nightmare and broken the glass shade on his reading lamp. We sweep and vacuum glass. The bulb is unscathed.

			life with father Got up and showered and dressed in old TShirt and ratty sweat pants. Did laundry including bleaching the white stuff to clean up the linen cocktail napkins and dish towels used to clean up wine splatter. Dad asked me if I could find a copy of his living will. I went through the safe and then remembered that it was in this other lock box. Sorting through the safe is always interesting. There is always something in there I've kind of forgotten we had or where it was. Then I go on a chase for an application for a handicapped parking shield for my dad. Because the TxDot site was down this kept getting to a dead end. Finally, I realized I was there but the page wasn't coming up. Finally it came alive and I printed the form but not before talking to a lady at Travis County (where you go for the permit) about it. Dad came by and I gave him a copy of the living will and the forms and he went off to the doctor to get them filled out. He sometimes can't walk from outlying parking lots comfortably although he is doing better and practicing on his short street. I dress and FFP and I go to have lunch with a woman who runs a WEB site selling stuff for moms. She is interesting and enjoys exchanging ideas with us. She uses Yahoo store software to run her business. I go home and set up a free trial of a Yahoo store to see what it is like. It doesn't seem too hard although I don't want to actually get a bank credit card account or all that so I can't really open a store and, of course, I have nothing to sell. I get to the gym for a workout. FFP is at a meeting so I eat badly, snacking on cheese and chips and such. He rinses some strawberries when he gets home and I have some of those. We explore the nothingness of TVland and I read the papers a little and then I go into the office to log off from things so the nightly backups can run. I hear a crash from the back of the house. FFP has had a nightmare and broken the glass shade on his reading lamp. We sweep and vacuum glass. The bulb is unscathed.

	"On several occasions I have actually read parts of my diary aloud to someone. But too much 'publicity' is destructive to a diary, because the diarist begins, unconsciously perhaps, to leave out, to tone down, to pep up, to falsify experience, and the reason for the undertaking becomes buried beneath posings." Gail Godwin, A Diarist on Diarists
	JUST TYPING When you are fifty something. You see yourself becoming your parents, becoming old. Without ever being as young. As they seem in old pictures. I keep saying. They are younger in this picture. Than I am now.

Thursday, March 27, 2003