The Visible Woman...May 27, 2003

Today I decided that there was more than one way to rate progress. Especially for a retiree.

Getting through the workout.

Seeing if there are forms online for stopping mail service. Worrying over the building we own and whether to rent or lease and finding someone to do it. Making a packing list. Feeding myself.

I dreamed about packing a large square wooden box and my friends and I hoisting it onto a flatbed that FFP drove a car underneath, cleanly. Then I had a beer in an old school or workplace and was gently shuttled away because it wasn't legal. I realize that there are not only movie theaters of my dreams but elaborate work places where I've never actually worked.

Why do I constantly fret about how much I accomplish? Isn't the new fitter healthier me and the slow but sure progress in dealing with my mother's stuff and my stuff enough? Isn't it enough that I'm reeducating myself about literature and history and math? Albeit slowly? Sure it is. Sometimes I feel like I've had an eight-month vacation, just reading and dozing and eating and drinking. And it's just now feeling like it was enough. What a lazy person I am. And yet, looking at it another way...it's enough, it's enormous progress.

Tuesday, May 27, 2003

A Journal from Austin, Texas. A Project of LBFFP Stealth Publishing.
food	reading	writing	time	exercise	health and mood

some of the junk my dad discarded when he moved "Progress is sometimes followed by a comman, never a period." Unattributed in 20,000 Quips and Quotes edited by Evan Esar	another way of looking at it Today I decided that there was more than one way to rate progress. Especially for a retiree. Getting through the workout. Seeing if there are forms online for stopping mail service. Worrying over the building we own and whether to rent or lease and finding someone to do it. Making a packing list. Feeding myself. I dreamed about packing a large square wooden box and my friends and I hoisting it onto a flatbed that FFP drove a car underneath, cleanly. Then I had a beer in an old school or workplace and was gently shuttled away because it wasn't legal. I realize that there are not only movie theaters of my dreams but elaborate work places where I've never actually worked. Why do I constantly fret about how much I accomplish? Isn't the new fitter healthier me and the slow but sure progress in dealing with my mother's stuff and my stuff enough? Isn't it enough that I'm reeducating myself about literature and history and math? Albeit slowly? Sure it is. Sometimes I feel like I've had an eight-month vacation, just reading and dozing and eating and drinking. And it's just now feeling like it was enough. What a lazy person I am. And yet, looking at it another way...it's enough, it's enormous progress.
JUST TYPING Every day you do things. Eat things. Move things. Whether it's forward progress. It is motion. And the time is gone.
		Food Diary. coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee water, coffee plate of nachos with leftover chicken and jalapenos gazpacho, two small pieces of bread and butter, six baked oysters, carpaccio, three glasses of Pinot
		Time flies.... How did I spend it? In front of the computer, but doing what? At the gym, sweating and reading. In the shower. Driving. On the phone with the phone company. Conversing. Sorting and flipping through newspapers. Working a crossword puzzle.

		Reading. Robert Massie's Peter the Great...Peter is just starting St. Petersburg. Still reading Journey Through Genius. How could I have forgotten so much about quadratic equations and cubics?
		What's my excuse today? Surely I have one.
		Exercise 52 minutes on recumbent bike Ab and lower back exercises.
	.	Felt groggy when I got up...amid an exhausting dream. 107/82 85