The Visible Woman...April 19, 2003

a day off

My only solid commitment is to dog walk this morning. I have lots of things I need/want/should/could do. I just don't have any other commitments.

The lawn guy calls a little before eight. FFP has the phone set but he hears the thing ring through once. We get up. Therefore, I'm dressed and ready and at my computer when Ru calls. We agree on Hyde Park in a half-hearted way.

Parked near Quack's, Julio's et al, we walk around, including a foray to the other side of Duval where we spot an interesting gate of forged iron and some cleverly-painted pickups. We stop at Julio's for a taco and coffee. I see five people I know there. We don't walk after the stop, just load up and go home.

At home, the mail is there, including some deer repellent things I've ordered over the Internet for Dad and some invites that we have to say no to or else that we have to say yes to and put on the calendar. I futz around with this and that and download pictures and play with the Mac. It's all a matter of setting priorities, isn't it? I've given the gym, tennis, dog walking and this journal priority, I think. Probably not the right things.

So...in that spirit, I decide to do a job for Forrest. To spend two hours on it or finish it whichever comes first.

The two hours comes first. I work a little more and then go to the gym. I decide to try to read this book of mathematical history called Journey Through Genius. It's interesting but takes too much energy to read on the bike. If you want to refresh yourself on the proofs, you may have to flip around, harder to do while pedaling. Also, the amount of mental energy needed for bike books needs to be lower. Have to find a different book for the bike, I guess.

I do 50 minutes on the bike and some back exercises.

At home, I have rotisserie chicken, spinach salad and strawberries with a small slice of coconut cake. (FFP has been grocery shopping. He's also done the dishes and started the laundry. Mr. Domestic.)

I finish the job for FFP and turn it over to him to proofread. Actually I still have to put the new WEB site elements on his machine and upload them to the client's real WEB site. But it's pretty much done.

So then, yeah, my time is my own. I can read, clean my office, work on my journal, take a shower, do whatever I want. So? What do I do?

I watch some snippets of old movies on TCM. (Easter Parade and Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Not so very different these movies, done decades apart.) I surf the WEB. (Some journals, some online stores.)

I sit in my chair and read some newspaper. I try to read in bed but FFP comes to bed so I try to go to sleep. It doesn't work for a long time, though.

I haven't said much about the war. This isn't that kind of journal. Well, OK, sometimes it is. But don't you think that we are now in a 'what are we going to do with this country?' mode. I know we allegedly planned what we'd do when we conquered Iraq. I think thinking about that would have kept me from invading if any real thought had gone into it. It's more than logistics. We don't really want to rule this country, but who will we back? And how soon will it be before we realize that they are evil and elections are shams? The world is a very hopeless place. How are we so lucky to live in relative isolation to the pain and death, to the chaos, hate, disorder? We aren't that far away, you say? Really? I think we are. Sure a terrorist can blow stuff up anywhere and we can run into our own garden-variety gunslinger. But most of us will never see a gun fired in anger (except hundreds of times a night on TV). Most of us will see very few dead bodies in our lives even counting the ones displayed at the funeral home. I have only seen one person die in my life. My mother. Of natural causes. A lot of people live with death around the corner every minute. A lot of people wonder each day how they will eat. Most people. And yet we don't. And, frankly, we are surrounded by people who don't. Even our poor and homeless can find a free meal. Most of us worry at a much higher level. Do our full bellies, roofs, potable water, flush toilets, air conditioning, electricity, computers, amenities and all make us happy? Most of us, no. Me? I choose happiness. Can you do that? Is it easier if you know most people are suffering a lack of what you have? I think so. But who knows?

But, anyway, how to we get out of Iraq? Seems problematic to me. There are so many people there who want to brutalize the other people. Just like here really. Rule of law is fragile and the lust for power is always poking holes in it.

an attractive gate found on our dog walk

fire truck

"The least pain in our little finger gives us more concern and uneasiness that the destruction of millions of our fellow-beings."

William Hazlitt

JUST TYPING
priorities
you have them
even if
you don't set them
even if
you don't admit them
even if
you avoid them
even if
you are just typing

			a day off My only solid commitment is to dog walk this morning. I have lots of things I need/want/should/could do. I just don't have any other commitments. The lawn guy calls a little before eight. FFP has the phone set but he hears the thing ring through once. We get up. Therefore, I'm dressed and ready and at my computer when Ru calls. We agree on Hyde Park in a half-hearted way. Parked near Quack's, Julio's et al, we walk around, including a foray to the other side of Duval where we spot an interesting gate of forged iron and some cleverly-painted pickups. We stop at Julio's for a taco and coffee. I see five people I know there. We don't walk after the stop, just load up and go home. At home, the mail is there, including some deer repellent things I've ordered over the Internet for Dad and some invites that we have to say no to or else that we have to say yes to and put on the calendar. I futz around with this and that and download pictures and play with the Mac. It's all a matter of setting priorities, isn't it? I've given the gym, tennis, dog walking and this journal priority, I think. Probably not the right things. So...in that spirit, I decide to do a job for Forrest. To spend two hours on it or finish it whichever comes first. The two hours comes first. I work a little more and then go to the gym. I decide to try to read this book of mathematical history called Journey Through Genius. It's interesting but takes too much energy to read on the bike. If you want to refresh yourself on the proofs, you may have to flip around, harder to do while pedaling. Also, the amount of mental energy needed for bike books needs to be lower. Have to find a different book for the bike, I guess. I do 50 minutes on the bike and some back exercises. At home, I have rotisserie chicken, spinach salad and strawberries with a small slice of coconut cake. (FFP has been grocery shopping. He's also done the dishes and started the laundry. Mr. Domestic.) I finish the job for FFP and turn it over to him to proofread. Actually I still have to put the new WEB site elements on his machine and upload them to the client's real WEB site. But it's pretty much done. So then, yeah, my time is my own. I can read, clean my office, work on my journal, take a shower, do whatever I want. So? What do I do? I watch some snippets of old movies on TCM. (Easter Parade and Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Not so very different these movies, done decades apart.) I surf the WEB. (Some journals, some online stores.) I sit in my chair and read some newspaper. I try to read in bed but FFP comes to bed so I try to go to sleep. It doesn't work for a long time, though. I haven't said much about the war. This isn't that kind of journal. Well, OK, sometimes it is. But don't you think that we are now in a 'what are we going to do with this country?' mode. I know we allegedly planned what we'd do when we conquered Iraq. I think thinking about that would have kept me from invading if any real thought had gone into it. It's more than logistics. We don't really want to rule this country, but who will we back? And how soon will it be before we realize that they are evil and elections are shams? The world is a very hopeless place. How are we so lucky to live in relative isolation to the pain and death, to the chaos, hate, disorder? We aren't that far away, you say? Really? I think we are. Sure a terrorist can blow stuff up anywhere and we can run into our own garden-variety gunslinger. But most of us will never see a gun fired in anger (except hundreds of times a night on TV). Most of us will see very few dead bodies in our lives even counting the ones displayed at the funeral home. I have only seen one person die in my life. My mother. Of natural causes. A lot of people live with death around the corner every minute. A lot of people wonder each day how they will eat. Most people. And yet we don't. And, frankly, we are surrounded by people who don't. Even our poor and homeless can find a free meal. Most of us worry at a much higher level. Do our full bellies, roofs, potable water, flush toilets, air conditioning, electricity, computers, amenities and all make us happy? Most of us, no. Me? I choose happiness. Can you do that? Is it easier if you know most people are suffering a lack of what you have? I think so. But who knows? But, anyway, how to we get out of Iraq? Seems problematic to me. There are so many people there who want to brutalize the other people. Just like here really. Rule of law is fragile and the lust for power is always poking holes in it.

	an attractive gate found on our dog walk fire truck "The least pain in our little finger gives us more concern and uneasiness that the destruction of millions of our fellow-beings." William Hazlitt
	JUST TYPING priorities you have them even if you don't set them even if you don't admit them even if you avoid them even if you are just typing

Saturday, April 19, 2003