The Visible Woman...April 5, 2003

plans evolving

It's gonna be a busy day. I get up and put on dog walking clothes. SuRu hasn't called. Hmm. Yep, there's a mist going on. I decide that if I just had a framework for this journal, in essence blank pages to glue things down on, all nicely linked and labelled, with some catch phrases from the written journals I have strewn about written in, if, if I had that I could easily catch up? Right? And...what would it mean to catch up? To be a daily journal done retrospectively, then caught up and in real time again?

But first I need some exercise.

My workout plan is designed to leave the weekends free or, at least, to be a five day plan. I figure sometimes I'll walk and not go to the club. So I just do the recumbent bike (45+ minutes) and some ab and lower back work (how I hate this stuff). I finish Within the Context of No Context by George W.S. Trow which is so, so relevant today in spite of essentially being a reprint of 1978 The New Yorker material with an introduction (long) by the author. So much of what I read appeared in The New Yorker first. And yes I read The New Yorker, but rarely remember reading the stuff I find in book form. Although sometimes in a short story collection that seems new one story suddenly seems familiar, dejà vu. It's impossible to keep up with The New Yorker but, if you did, you'd be keeping up with lots of fiction and non-fiction and reviews and such.

Anyway, I finish that book and start a collection of short stories by Lorrie Moore called Self-Help.

When the Saveur Texas Hill Country Wine and Food Festival announced their event I said to Forrest, "Let's get six tickets for the winemaker lunch at the Four Seasons." He said (or e-mailed back), "Done." and it was done. Then, of course, we had to find some friends to share it with. I thought some out-of-town folks might come. But that fell through. Eventually we invited our friend Karen whose husband is out of town, our friend Marina who is single and my son John and his wife. John is not really my son. However, when he arrived he kissed me and said, "Hi, Mom." He told everyone at the table that Forrest bought him his first suit, gave him opportunities. I asked after the grandkids. My grandson who knows better is thirteen, five foot eight, weighs 190, throws the shot and is home babysitting his little sister. I need to see him!

We share a ten top with two ladies who live in Wimberley and a couple who are friends of theirs. We discover people we know in common and become all friendly and share conversation all around as best you can with a ten top.

The meal and wine and wine are delicious, too. The appetizer is warm smoked sea bass on lemon risotta with arugula and mizuna with a shallot dressing. That smoky flavor on the fresh firm sea bass was wonderful. A Fall Creek Creek Sauvignon Blanc went along with it. Next comes roasted muscovy duck breast with pommery mustard jus, confit potatoes, carmelized onions and grilled asparagus spears. A 2001 Seghesio Zin and a (unreleased) Llano "Viviano" Noble Cépage are served up. Both wines are very nice, duck good but not as wonderful and innovative as the bass. Finally a frozen passion fruit Meringue Napolean comes. I eat a little. Good dessert but I'm stuffed and I'm not a dessert lover.

Well, after that you would need a nap. FFP takes one. I don't, but I may have dozed a bit as I sat and read newspapers.

We watch the first game of the Men's NCAA Basketball Final Four. A blowout leaves Marquette looking embarrassed. We change clothes and leave a video running with the Horns starting to play.

Friends Deanna and SuRu join us for a Cabaret Show presented by Austin Cabaret Theater run by Stuart Moulton. This show, called I Don't Mean Rhinestones presents Karen Kuykendall doing some great stylings on old standards and then Stuart doing Carol Channing, um, better than Carol. I mean I saw Carol do a show a few years ago. After the Carol finale, he comed out as Stuart and sings a couple of numbers. He's such a dear and so energetic. I really enjoy it.

My son and daughter-in-law but for the accident of genes and the barrier of age.

"I was born into the upper middle class in 1943, and one of the strange turns my life has taken is this: I was taught by my parents to believe that the traditional manners of the high bourgeoise, properly acquired, would give me a certain dignity, which would protect me from embarrassment. It has turned out that I am able to do almost anything but act according to those modes--this because I deeply believe that those modes are suffused with an embarrassment so powerful that it can kill."

George W.S. Trow, Within the Context of No Context

JUST TYPING
The arts, the songs,
the food, the wine.
We lead the good (capitalist) life while far away
the struggle
for food
fuel
life itself
Takes center stage.

			plans evolving It's gonna be a busy day. I get up and put on dog walking clothes. SuRu hasn't called. Hmm. Yep, there's a mist going on. I decide that if I just had a framework for this journal, in essence blank pages to glue things down on, all nicely linked and labelled, with some catch phrases from the written journals I have strewn about written in, if, if I had that I could easily catch up? Right? And...what would it mean to catch up? To be a daily journal done retrospectively, then caught up and in real time again? But first I need some exercise. My workout plan is designed to leave the weekends free or, at least, to be a five day plan. I figure sometimes I'll walk and not go to the club. So I just do the recumbent bike (45+ minutes) and some ab and lower back work (how I hate this stuff). I finish Within the Context of No Context by George W.S. Trow which is so, so relevant today in spite of essentially being a reprint of 1978 The New Yorker material with an introduction (long) by the author. So much of what I read appeared in The New Yorker first. And yes I read The New Yorker, but rarely remember reading the stuff I find in book form. Although sometimes in a short story collection that seems new one story suddenly seems familiar, dejà vu. It's impossible to keep up with The New Yorker but, if you did, you'd be keeping up with lots of fiction and non-fiction and reviews and such. Anyway, I finish that book and start a collection of short stories by Lorrie Moore called Self-Help. When the Saveur Texas Hill Country Wine and Food Festival announced their event I said to Forrest, "Let's get six tickets for the winemaker lunch at the Four Seasons." He said (or e-mailed back), "Done." and it was done. Then, of course, we had to find some friends to share it with. I thought some out-of-town folks might come. But that fell through. Eventually we invited our friend Karen whose husband is out of town, our friend Marina who is single and my son John and his wife. John is not really my son. However, when he arrived he kissed me and said, "Hi, Mom." He told everyone at the table that Forrest bought him his first suit, gave him opportunities. I asked after the grandkids. My grandson who knows better is thirteen, five foot eight, weighs 190, throws the shot and is home babysitting his little sister. I need to see him! We share a ten top with two ladies who live in Wimberley and a couple who are friends of theirs. We discover people we know in common and become all friendly and share conversation all around as best you can with a ten top. The meal and wine and wine are delicious, too. The appetizer is warm smoked sea bass on lemon risotta with arugula and mizuna with a shallot dressing. That smoky flavor on the fresh firm sea bass was wonderful. A Fall Creek Creek Sauvignon Blanc went along with it. Next comes roasted muscovy duck breast with pommery mustard jus, confit potatoes, carmelized onions and grilled asparagus spears. A 2001 Seghesio Zin and a (unreleased) Llano "Viviano" Noble Cépage are served up. Both wines are very nice, duck good but not as wonderful and innovative as the bass. Finally a frozen passion fruit Meringue Napolean comes. I eat a little. Good dessert but I'm stuffed and I'm not a dessert lover. Well, after that you would need a nap. FFP takes one. I don't, but I may have dozed a bit as I sat and read newspapers. We watch the first game of the Men's NCAA Basketball Final Four. A blowout leaves Marquette looking embarrassed. We change clothes and leave a video running with the Horns starting to play. Friends Deanna and SuRu join us for a Cabaret Show presented by Austin Cabaret Theater run by Stuart Moulton. This show, called I Don't Mean Rhinestones presents Karen Kuykendall doing some great stylings on old standards and then Stuart doing Carol Channing, um, better than Carol. I mean I saw Carol do a show a few years ago. After the Carol finale, he comed out as Stuart and sings a couple of numbers. He's such a dear and so energetic. I really enjoy it.

	My son and daughter-in-law but for the accident of genes and the barrier of age. "I was born into the upper middle class in 1943, and one of the strange turns my life has taken is this: I was taught by my parents to believe that the traditional manners of the high bourgeoise, properly acquired, would give me a certain dignity, which would protect me from embarrassment. It has turned out that I am able to do almost anything but act according to those modes--this because I deeply believe that those modes are suffused with an embarrassment so powerful that it can kill." George W.S. Trow, Within the Context of No Context
	JUST TYPING The arts, the songs, the food, the wine. We lead the good (capitalist) life while far away the struggle for food fuel life itself Takes center stage.

Saturday, April 5,2003