The Visible Woman...December 28, 2003

There are many experiences that have lost their 'first time.' Not only do I not know when the first time was...I don't even have the details.

I'm notoriously bad at remembering when things happened. I know when I was born, when I moved to Austin, when I married. I know the year I first visited Europe. When I graduated high school and college. But lots of other events are lost in time. Worse, they are just lost in a cloud of fuzz...no details.

About many experiences and habits that are now everyday I've lost the details of the first encounter or the first few encounters. I don't remember when I first had real champagne. Or lobster. I don't remember the first pair of Cole Haans or Ballys (all I'll wear now for dress shoes). There are only two types of jeans that I wear now...but I can't remember when I discovered them or how.

I do remember the first time I saw my now husband. I do remember my first foie gras but not my first paté. I don't remember the year but I remember the room at the Four Seasons, the burgundy wine dinner and the delicate liver on some toast points.

I don't remember my first day of school. Or my last either.

I do remember my first airplane ride. I was eighteen. I flew from Dallas to Pensacola, Florida. I liked everything about it including the little plastic glasses. It didn't hurt my ears back then to take off and land.

I guess one reason I keep this journal is to perhaps capture some of the things I will take for granted or forget in the future. Sometimes even now I refer to things obliquely in my journal of one or two years ago and can't remember what the heck it was I was talking about. I even thought today about promoting the journal, generating traffic and taking my lumps getting hate mail. Why? Because it is the only creative thing (yeah, well) I do. But I only thought about it...and decided that it is just as creative, promoted or not.

	the first time There are many experiences that have lost their 'first time.' Not only do I not know when the first time was...I don't even have the details. I'm notoriously bad at remembering when things happened. I know when I was born, when I moved to Austin, when I married. I know the year I first visited Europe. When I graduated high school and college. But lots of other events are lost in time. Worse, they are just lost in a cloud of fuzz...no details. About many experiences and habits that are now everyday I've lost the details of the first encounter or the first few encounters. I don't remember when I first had real champagne. Or lobster. I don't remember the first pair of Cole Haans or Ballys (all I'll wear now for dress shoes). There are only two types of jeans that I wear now...but I can't remember when I discovered them or how. I do remember the first time I saw my now husband. I do remember my first foie gras but not my first paté. I don't remember the year but I remember the room at the Four Seasons, the burgundy wine dinner and the delicate liver on some toast points. I don't remember my first day of school. Or my last either. I do remember my first airplane ride. I was eighteen. I flew from Dallas to Pensacola, Florida. I liked everything about it including the little plastic glasses. It didn't hurt my ears back then to take off and land. I guess one reason I keep this journal is to perhaps capture some of the things I will take for granted or forget in the future. Sometimes even now I refer to things obliquely in my journal of one or two years ago and can't remember what the heck it was I was talking about. I even thought today about promoting the journal, generating traffic and taking my lumps getting hate mail. Why? Because it is the only creative thing (yeah, well) I do. But I only thought about it...and decided that it is just as creative, promoted or not.
Uncommon objects and an uncommon color scheme...yellow and black
JUST TYPING The first time. Quickly becomes. Never again. Or habit.
		Food Diary. *breakfast* nothing lunch [Alamo at the Village] two mozzarella cheese 'sticks' and marinara sauce popcorn several glasses Shiraz a fried jalapeno 'popper' *snacks* cheese (Brillat Savarin, Whiskey Cheddar), crackers two pieces of Mangia pepperoni and jalapeno pizza several glasses of red wine a clemintine *dinner* just snacks Today I - ate all bad food
		Time flies.... Up late, abed late. Yeah...it was hard getting up. Then I squeezed a short workout in before the decadent movie-going and eating. Late at night...I finished up the piles of papers. Funny...because I'll go out of town in a little while and they will pile up again.

		Reading. Dawn of D-Day: There Men Were There 6 June 1944 by David Howarth didn't get cracked because I took another book to the gym. Michelin Green Guide to Washington, D.C.; The Best American Essays 2003 edited by Anne Fadiman. I always read intros and forwards. So all I've really read is what Anne and the series editor had to say. Newspapers. I even glanced through today's although I lost track of the NYT magazine. Finished a puzzling little book called Afternoon of a Writer in bed before sleep.
		nada
		Exercise forty minutes recumbent bike
	. .	Physically I'm completely over whatever it was. Mood is odd.
	It's a Tangled Web we weave...these days of our lives.	One year ago "Am I taking a day off from accomplishment because it's Saturday? Am I simply getting lazy?" Two years ago "I'm suggesting that she is getting better 'by herself.' Maybe it was an infection and she is shaking it off. She hasn't taken a Darvoset since last night."