The Visible Woman...April 30, 2003

incredible detail

I had a tennis clinic scheduled but it's cancelled. I'm due to execute the regimen known as 'upper body' in the gym however. I figured the tennis into my ETA that I gave my dad for arriving at his house. So, I'm a little relaxed this morning. I get to the gym and do a preliminary bike ride (reading a book called American Appetite or something...it's about the history of dining in American). Then I do the shoulder and chest stuff in this workout and some ab and back work and ride the bike again until I'm sweaty.

At home I take my time over some computer tasks and lunch (two bowls of salad with spinach, onions, brocolli, mushrooms, carrots, snow peas and cheese and dressing and a couple of strawberries) and a shower.

I get to Dad's about 1:30. He has located a bunch of small boxes and such for the packing task. He's finishing his lunch (some leftovers) and says he will have to shop before he makes another lunch. (He probably has cereal which is commonly his breakfast.) He's worked out a dinner invitation for the next three nights. He's wearing his hearing aids.

I pack little tiny furniture and accessories from the dollhouse display. I find a miniature kitty litter box with little kitty 'litter' that is hopefully as fake as the food on the table. There is a sack of kitty food and in another room the kitty who has a scratching pole and toys. The house is a colonial and old-fashioned in that it has a ice box (inside I find a lucite block for ice and food and on top a tiny ice pick and tongs). The most reductive, scary thing, though, is finding little room boxes, little miniature displays sized to fit in the rooms in this one inch to one foot scale house. My clever friends suggest hiring a miniature moving company with a miniature van and miniature hand truck and, presumably miniature people with a supply of miniature boxes and packing quilts. Yeah, I could use that. Instead I have to pack using tiny boxes we've collected, bubble wrap, baggies. Some pieces are pretty fragile, some already need repair. Some are signed pieces, beautifully detailed in delicate wood. Others are my mom's own projects, some quite good. Some are mass-produced imports for the miniature market.

I notice that a bed I'm packing that has a hand-woven (by mom) coverlet seems to have a bed underneath. Yep, it's a trundle bed and the bed underneath has a hand-woven coverlet, too. My, my. I hope my mom had fun with all this because she certainly worked a lot on it. I wish she'd gotten home from the hospital to play with her toys.

I talk to SuRu about our evening plans. She thinks Zoey needs a bathroom break. I'm burned out packing mini things so I volunteer to go do it so that SuRu can work until six when we are heading out for our evening's adventure. Dad and I go to my house, find a key for SuRu's and go over there. Zoey tries to escape when we open the front door and then wants to play when we let her out in the back. When I order her to go potty, she sits. So we leave her alone in the back and I give Dad a tour of SuRu's remodel and stuff.

We go back to Dad's and I put in a bit more time packing stuff and then clear the stuff into a pile out of Dad's way.

SuRu comes over and I drive the three of us to LG's where we pick up LG and Pam. We head to Mopac then Parmer and then get into a traffic jam. There's been an accident on Parmer closing a lot of the lanes. When we get through that we sail up IH35 to the Walburg exit. We find the German food place and it is desserted. They must get a lot more action on the weekends.

We order. I have rahmschitzel (veal) which comes with spaetzle (sp?) and potato salad (it is supposed to come with cucumber salad but they are out). I taste Dad's rot kohl (red cabbage) that comes with the saurbraten. Everyone but SuRu and Dad has a beer. SuRu doesn't drink beer and is driving home. Dad says he has quit drinking. OK. Hmmm. Of course, he's mostly quit before. They have a bunch of beers on tap and the Warnsteiner that LG and I have is good. Pam has a dark beer that tastes weird to me but she likes it.

SuRu drives home after we tour out further east a bit. Dad enjoys looking out the window, being driven.

Back at LG's, we drop them off, take Dad and his van home and SuRu and I leave. We meet Dad's neighbors Cary (I think) and Satesh walking their dog. Satesh says that Dad is 'the most sociable guy in the neighborhood."

At home, FFP says his back is better. (He went to the chiropractor today.)

I watch a little TV. FFP finds something about Miles Davis on Bravo. I read a little newspaper, work a crossword, pat the dog and go to bed.

I always wanted to go to that place in Walburg but I don't think I'll ever have to go back. It was OK but it's not Germany and it's too far to drive for a selection of tap beers.

it almost looks real, doesn't it?

"The worst is death, and death will have his day."

Shakespeare, King Richard II

JUST TYPING
Possesions.
Rule our lives.
Determine our survival.
Enhance our pleasure.
Measure our success.
Drown us.

			incredible detail I had a tennis clinic scheduled but it's cancelled. I'm due to execute the regimen known as 'upper body' in the gym however. I figured the tennis into my ETA that I gave my dad for arriving at his house. So, I'm a little relaxed this morning. I get to the gym and do a preliminary bike ride (reading a book called American Appetite or something...it's about the history of dining in American). Then I do the shoulder and chest stuff in this workout and some ab and back work and ride the bike again until I'm sweaty. At home I take my time over some computer tasks and lunch (two bowls of salad with spinach, onions, brocolli, mushrooms, carrots, snow peas and cheese and dressing and a couple of strawberries) and a shower. I get to Dad's about 1:30. He has located a bunch of small boxes and such for the packing task. He's finishing his lunch (some leftovers) and says he will have to shop before he makes another lunch. (He probably has cereal which is commonly his breakfast.) He's worked out a dinner invitation for the next three nights. He's wearing his hearing aids. I pack little tiny furniture and accessories from the dollhouse display. I find a miniature kitty litter box with little kitty 'litter' that is hopefully as fake as the food on the table. There is a sack of kitty food and in another room the kitty who has a scratching pole and toys. The house is a colonial and old-fashioned in that it has a ice box (inside I find a lucite block for ice and food and on top a tiny ice pick and tongs). The most reductive, scary thing, though, is finding little room boxes, little miniature displays sized to fit in the rooms in this one inch to one foot scale house. My clever friends suggest hiring a miniature moving company with a miniature van and miniature hand truck and, presumably miniature people with a supply of miniature boxes and packing quilts. Yeah, I could use that. Instead I have to pack using tiny boxes we've collected, bubble wrap, baggies. Some pieces are pretty fragile, some already need repair. Some are signed pieces, beautifully detailed in delicate wood. Others are my mom's own projects, some quite good. Some are mass-produced imports for the miniature market. I notice that a bed I'm packing that has a hand-woven (by mom) coverlet seems to have a bed underneath. Yep, it's a trundle bed and the bed underneath has a hand-woven coverlet, too. My, my. I hope my mom had fun with all this because she certainly worked a lot on it. I wish she'd gotten home from the hospital to play with her toys. I talk to SuRu about our evening plans. She thinks Zoey needs a bathroom break. I'm burned out packing mini things so I volunteer to go do it so that SuRu can work until six when we are heading out for our evening's adventure. Dad and I go to my house, find a key for SuRu's and go over there. Zoey tries to escape when we open the front door and then wants to play when we let her out in the back. When I order her to go potty, she sits. So we leave her alone in the back and I give Dad a tour of SuRu's remodel and stuff. We go back to Dad's and I put in a bit more time packing stuff and then clear the stuff into a pile out of Dad's way. SuRu comes over and I drive the three of us to LG's where we pick up LG and Pam. We head to Mopac then Parmer and then get into a traffic jam. There's been an accident on Parmer closing a lot of the lanes. When we get through that we sail up IH35 to the Walburg exit. We find the German food place and it is desserted. They must get a lot more action on the weekends. We order. I have rahmschitzel (veal) which comes with spaetzle (sp?) and potato salad (it is supposed to come with cucumber salad but they are out). I taste Dad's rot kohl (red cabbage) that comes with the saurbraten. Everyone but SuRu and Dad has a beer. SuRu doesn't drink beer and is driving home. Dad says he has quit drinking. OK. Hmmm. Of course, he's mostly quit before. They have a bunch of beers on tap and the Warnsteiner that LG and I have is good. Pam has a dark beer that tastes weird to me but she likes it. SuRu drives home after we tour out further east a bit. Dad enjoys looking out the window, being driven. Back at LG's, we drop them off, take Dad and his van home and SuRu and I leave. We meet Dad's neighbors Cary (I think) and Satesh walking their dog. Satesh says that Dad is 'the most sociable guy in the neighborhood." At home, FFP says his back is better. (He went to the chiropractor today.) I watch a little TV. FFP finds something about Miles Davis on Bravo. I read a little newspaper, work a crossword, pat the dog and go to bed. I always wanted to go to that place in Walburg but I don't think I'll ever have to go back. It was OK but it's not Germany and it's too far to drive for a selection of tap beers.
	it almost looks real, doesn't it? "The worst is death, and death will have his day." Shakespeare, King Richard II

	JUST TYPING Possesions. Rule our lives. Determine our survival. Enhance our pleasure. Measure our success. Drown us.