The Visible Woman...April 23, 2003

errands

Getting up was a tiny struggle. And my head was a bit fuzzy. There is nothing on the calendar I keep. And yet there are things to do.

I start some wash. I dress in my gym clothes. And yet I find myself still at the house when it is nearly noon. The handyman and his 'crew' have arrived to deliver some metal for roofing the pergola. I show his wife some painting I want done inside. I finish one bit of the laundry through the folding. I work on my journal. Inexplicably, the mail comes at 11. (He usually gets here at 4 or 5.) It doesn't really create any 'to dos' for me unless you count the fact that it contains yet another request to vote my shares in for some fund I have in my IRA. I usually don't vote my minuscule number of shares but I've been tempted now that there are shareholder proposals on some of them to enforce stuff that makes the boards wiggle or management proposals creating wiggle room. So these guys catch a little of my ambivalence about their stewardship and I go to the WEB site and randomly vote against some of the directors' proposals. That will teach them to bug me to vote my shares. I guess I should dig in and read all this stuff and figure it out. Have you ever looked at those K-1s, proxy statements and annual reports. Hard. To. Understand. An understatement. Intentionally obtuse and misleading? Perhaps.

And then it's off to errands.

First I go close a money market checking account because, after a good initial 'come on' rate, they now pay just over one-half what our other one pays. Really! The twenty-something cuts me a cashier's check to close the account and never asks why. I suspect he knows. It's a scam...assuming you are too lazy to close it once they get your money or you get some checks out.

I go home and make out a deposit for the other account, including some other small checks. Then I'm off again. First to the vet to get some special food for Chalow for her liver problems. Then to the other bank to make the deposit. Then to the club. I realize that I've left my 'bike book' at home, but...no problem. I simply look in the trunk and choose from several I have there for a book emergency. I decide to read Larry McMurtry's Paradise although his non-fiction tends to cause lots of books to enter my mental reading list, making finishing his book something less of an accomplishment. Not to mention that these books are giving me an itch to go visit his 'book town' of Archer City.

At the club I do about fifteen minutes on the bike and then the 'lower body' exercise routine. (Which also includes biceps and triceps.) Then I do another twenty minutes on the bike.

It's almost three when I get back to the house and I do a graphics project for FFP and finish my laundry before eating. So I haven't eaten all day and it's three. I make a spinach salad with some other vegies and cheese and put the first bite in my mouth. The doorbell rings and it's a courier. By the time I get rolling on the food while reading the front page of The New York Times, I'm ravenous. I eat all the spinach we have and all the other things for salads, mostly, and also eat a few potato chips and down sixteen ounces of water.

Thus revitalized, I clean up after myself and assess my (almost spent) day. Where does the time go? Well, my gym routine takes at least an hour and a half if you count the driving. Errands. I talked to a friend on the phone. FFP's project took only about fifteen minutes. (Although I've also agreed to go around the corner to Fonda and take a picture later on.) It's true I've gotten a bit of reading done...on the bike and while eating. I haven't made a bit of progress on this mess in my office. It's gotten worse somehow, if anything. While I've brushed my teeth, I've yet to shower and, after my sweaty workout, I probably ought to do that before going off to represent FFP's business and shoot a picture. I'm just not very productive, am I?

Somewhere today Dad came by, brought me a pill splitter to use on Chalow's pills and said he'd gotten a haircut and done some other errand. He gave me a check for the wireless deer fence I ordered for him on the Internet. He and I laugt that if we 'do two things' in a day, it's a great accomplishment. Maybe I should take that to heart and not worry too much about productivity. Dad had both his hearing aids in today. That's good. He's gradually wearing them, getting used to them and hearing. I hope.

I shower and FFP and I go to Fonda and shoot a picture of Mercedes who manages the front. FFP has written an article about her for West Austin News and needs a picture.

FFP goes to the club. I work on a little writing project to see if I want to work more on it. I'm ambivalent. This one is sort of a column and I'd have to convince someone to publish it and then do it on a regular basis. I decide I probably won't promote this one. Instead I'll start work on another project.

FFP comes home. He eats some leftover rotisserie chicken and some canned black-eyed peas. I eat a turkey bacon and tomato sandwich. (We have no lettuce.) We need some stuff from the store but I decide to go tomorrow. I make a list. We get some salmon out of the freezer for tomorrow, too. FFP's car is making a funny noise so we're going to take it to the shop tomorrow.

I don't pay much attention to TV tonight. I watch part of a movie about South Africa (with awful scenes of brutality interspersed with great singing) while cleaning up old e-mail files. I watch Law and Order while reading some newspapers. This day wasn't a total bust, productivity-wise. But it was close. At one stage I talked on the phone to my friend Pam. She had a question about a French phrase. I was happy to have some reference books at hand to shed a bit of light on the question. I wish my office were organized to make that even easier. She is finishing up her book. How people find time to write a book, I don't know.

self-protrait in reds

"What really counts is whether an object fits in with its surroundings."
James Elkins, The Object Stares Back , 1996

JUST TYPING
the day
slips away
to the past
to be represented
by what you accomplished
as perceived by
surviving
brains
now, later
not
much

			errands Getting up was a tiny struggle. And my head was a bit fuzzy. There is nothing on the calendar I keep. And yet there are things to do. I start some wash. I dress in my gym clothes. And yet I find myself still at the house when it is nearly noon. The handyman and his 'crew' have arrived to deliver some metal for roofing the pergola. I show his wife some painting I want done inside. I finish one bit of the laundry through the folding. I work on my journal. Inexplicably, the mail comes at 11. (He usually gets here at 4 or 5.) It doesn't really create any 'to dos' for me unless you count the fact that it contains yet another request to vote my shares in for some fund I have in my IRA. I usually don't vote my minuscule number of shares but I've been tempted now that there are shareholder proposals on some of them to enforce stuff that makes the boards wiggle or management proposals creating wiggle room. So these guys catch a little of my ambivalence about their stewardship and I go to the WEB site and randomly vote against some of the directors' proposals. That will teach them to bug me to vote my shares. I guess I should dig in and read all this stuff and figure it out. Have you ever looked at those K-1s, proxy statements and annual reports. Hard. To. Understand. An understatement. Intentionally obtuse and misleading? Perhaps. And then it's off to errands. First I go close a money market checking account because, after a good initial 'come on' rate, they now pay just over one-half what our other one pays. Really! The twenty-something cuts me a cashier's check to close the account and never asks why. I suspect he knows. It's a scam...assuming you are too lazy to close it once they get your money or you get some checks out. I go home and make out a deposit for the other account, including some other small checks. Then I'm off again. First to the vet to get some special food for Chalow for her liver problems. Then to the other bank to make the deposit. Then to the club. I realize that I've left my 'bike book' at home, but...no problem. I simply look in the trunk and choose from several I have there for a book emergency. I decide to read Larry McMurtry's Paradise although his non-fiction tends to cause lots of books to enter my mental reading list, making finishing his book something less of an accomplishment. Not to mention that these books are giving me an itch to go visit his 'book town' of Archer City. At the club I do about fifteen minutes on the bike and then the 'lower body' exercise routine. (Which also includes biceps and triceps.) Then I do another twenty minutes on the bike. It's almost three when I get back to the house and I do a graphics project for FFP and finish my laundry before eating. So I haven't eaten all day and it's three. I make a spinach salad with some other vegies and cheese and put the first bite in my mouth. The doorbell rings and it's a courier. By the time I get rolling on the food while reading the front page of The New York Times, I'm ravenous. I eat all the spinach we have and all the other things for salads, mostly, and also eat a few potato chips and down sixteen ounces of water. Thus revitalized, I clean up after myself and assess my (almost spent) day. Where does the time go? Well, my gym routine takes at least an hour and a half if you count the driving. Errands. I talked to a friend on the phone. FFP's project took only about fifteen minutes. (Although I've also agreed to go around the corner to Fonda and take a picture later on.) It's true I've gotten a bit of reading done...on the bike and while eating. I haven't made a bit of progress on this mess in my office. It's gotten worse somehow, if anything. While I've brushed my teeth, I've yet to shower and, after my sweaty workout, I probably ought to do that before going off to represent FFP's business and shoot a picture. I'm just not very productive, am I? Somewhere today Dad came by, brought me a pill splitter to use on Chalow's pills and said he'd gotten a haircut and done some other errand. He gave me a check for the wireless deer fence I ordered for him on the Internet. He and I laugt that if we 'do two things' in a day, it's a great accomplishment. Maybe I should take that to heart and not worry too much about productivity. Dad had both his hearing aids in today. That's good. He's gradually wearing them, getting used to them and hearing. I hope. I shower and FFP and I go to Fonda and shoot a picture of Mercedes who manages the front. FFP has written an article about her for West Austin News and needs a picture. FFP goes to the club. I work on a little writing project to see if I want to work more on it. I'm ambivalent. This one is sort of a column and I'd have to convince someone to publish it and then do it on a regular basis. I decide I probably won't promote this one. Instead I'll start work on another project. FFP comes home. He eats some leftover rotisserie chicken and some canned black-eyed peas. I eat a turkey bacon and tomato sandwich. (We have no lettuce.) We need some stuff from the store but I decide to go tomorrow. I make a list. We get some salmon out of the freezer for tomorrow, too. FFP's car is making a funny noise so we're going to take it to the shop tomorrow. I don't pay much attention to TV tonight. I watch part of a movie about South Africa (with awful scenes of brutality interspersed with great singing) while cleaning up old e-mail files. I watch Law and Order while reading some newspapers. This day wasn't a total bust, productivity-wise. But it was close. At one stage I talked on the phone to my friend Pam. She had a question about a French phrase. I was happy to have some reference books at hand to shed a bit of light on the question. I wish my office were organized to make that even easier. She is finishing up her book. How people find time to write a book, I don't know.

	self-protrait in reds "What really counts is whether an object fits in with its surroundings." James Elkins, The Object Stares Back , 1996
	JUST TYPING the day slips away to the past to be represented by what you accomplished as perceived by surviving brains now, later not much

Wednesday, April 23, 2003