The Visible Woman...April 11, 2003

luau you

I got up earlier than usual. Journal, coffee, download pictures, getting on with my day. I may not accomplish anything else today but I may catch up my journal.

And I would have gotten to my workout early except the handyman (and handywoman) came and it is irrestible to watch other people work.

Dad came by. I was going to help him renogiate a CD. But he went to the bank where it was maturing and when he said he was taking it elsewhere, they gave him a rate he liked.

When I left for the club I also had three errands: find a glass shade for the one broken by FFP's nightmare, get a battery to fix the stop watch he uses to time commercial scripts (or, failing that, get a new one) and take and pick up cleaning.

Radio Shack doesn't have the battery. I get a shade at the lighting store on 35th Street. I work out. I have to do the 'upper body' series. I'm still struggling to learn this and do it well. I ride the bike before and after.

I stop by the cleaners and get some clothes and two tablecloths. (Yeah, I don't always wash and iron them myself.)

I go home because I'm hungry although only two out of three errands are complete. I eat a couple of bowls of salad.

I go to a battery store on Lamar and get the right battery. Just in case that doesn't work, I go to Rooster Andrews and buy a new stop watch for $9.95 plus tax. Naturally when I get home, the battery fixes the old one.

I shower up and put on an Hawaiian shirt and slacks for the luau that will precede the tennis weekend at the club.

Then...I finish catching up posting this journal. It feels like an achievement and yet it doesn't. It means nothing. Really? Then why did I do it?

Luau. We have this tennis event this weekend. First we drink and eat too much. Then tomorrow we play tennis. I had food, a Shiner Bock, a margarita. They had a bad playing oldies. (Why do the members of bands playing old Beatles, Stones, Roy Orbison always look so old?)

FFP goes with me. He is wisely just doing the party, not tennis. He meets the young lady who is playing with me. Since she is 17 years younger, I have informed her that she must cover more of the court than she might be used to. We have never played together. We agree who is going to play which side for receiving serve.

We go home about nine. I type this sentence at 9:17. I am kinda, sorta caught up with the journal. I'm going to do something else now. And fall behind over the weekend while I actually do something. Welcome back, yourselves.

old rackets for sale on ebay

"By reading what he has last written, just before he recommences his task, the writer will catch the tone and spirit of what he is then saying, and will avoid the fault of seeming to be unlike himself."

Anthony Trollope

JUST TYPING
Errands
Consume time.
I seem to always be.
Picking up.
Dropping off.
Looking for batteries.

			luau you I got up earlier than usual. Journal, coffee, download pictures, getting on with my day. I may not accomplish anything else today but I may catch up my journal. And I would have gotten to my workout early except the handyman (and handywoman) came and it is irrestible to watch other people work. Dad came by. I was going to help him renogiate a CD. But he went to the bank where it was maturing and when he said he was taking it elsewhere, they gave him a rate he liked. When I left for the club I also had three errands: find a glass shade for the one broken by FFP's nightmare, get a battery to fix the stop watch he uses to time commercial scripts (or, failing that, get a new one) and take and pick up cleaning. Radio Shack doesn't have the battery. I get a shade at the lighting store on 35th Street. I work out. I have to do the 'upper body' series. I'm still struggling to learn this and do it well. I ride the bike before and after. I stop by the cleaners and get some clothes and two tablecloths. (Yeah, I don't always wash and iron them myself.) I go home because I'm hungry although only two out of three errands are complete. I eat a couple of bowls of salad. I go to a battery store on Lamar and get the right battery. Just in case that doesn't work, I go to Rooster Andrews and buy a new stop watch for $9.95 plus tax. Naturally when I get home, the battery fixes the old one. I shower up and put on an Hawaiian shirt and slacks for the luau that will precede the tennis weekend at the club. Then...I finish catching up posting this journal. It feels like an achievement and yet it doesn't. It means nothing. Really? Then why did I do it? Luau. We have this tennis event this weekend. First we drink and eat too much. Then tomorrow we play tennis. I had food, a Shiner Bock, a margarita. They had a bad playing oldies. (Why do the members of bands playing old Beatles, Stones, Roy Orbison always look so old?) FFP goes with me. He is wisely just doing the party, not tennis. He meets the young lady who is playing with me. Since she is 17 years younger, I have informed her that she must cover more of the court than she might be used to. We have never played together. We agree who is going to play which side for receiving serve. We go home about nine. I type this sentence at 9:17. I am kinda, sorta caught up with the journal. I'm going to do something else now. And fall behind over the weekend while I actually do something. Welcome back, yourselves.

	old rackets for sale on ebay "By reading what he has last written, just before he recommences his task, the writer will catch the tone and spirit of what he is then saying, and will avoid the fault of seeming to be unlike himself." Anthony Trollope
	JUST TYPING Errands Consume time. I seem to always be. Picking up. Dropping off. Looking for batteries.

Friday, April 11, 2003