AUSTIN, Texas, Mar. 26, 2005 — Yeah, one could question how Saturday is different than any other day. It is, though.

We get up around seven-thirty. I change the sheets, FFP puts them into wash and we walk around the yard. There is a layer of debris (green leaves, small and large limbs) over everything that the hail and wind knocked down. We brought our reflecting ball inside. We put it out again. With our cars in the garage, it was the only thing we could think of to save when the hail was coming. It was only pea and marble size here though but dramatic when the wind propelled it. We will hear tales of greater damage.

I work on my journal a bit, drink coffee and later head for the club. FFP goes first. He calls me to tell me the Easter Egg Hunt has the club parking lot crowded. I look up when the event ends (10:30) and decide that I'll time my visit to coincide with people leaving. We have a concert this evening but nothing else so there is no rush. Is there? I wonder if they will be open Easter Sunday to work out. I'm not religious. I noticed yesterday a number of stores had signs saying they were closed Easter Sunday. Easter to me is people getting off for Good Friday and the observance getting in the way of what I want to do. Better not try to go to brunch tomorrow for example. Or shop at CompUSA. Whatever. I respect people's religions, Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists. But they don't all believe the same thing. They believe some contradictory things. So not believing any of them, exactly, should be respected to.

Finally I head for the club around 10:30, hoping the Easter Egg thing is cleared out. From the look of it things may have been going on at Mayfield Park or Laguna Gloria or both. But there are places to park inside the club grounds now. I do my fifty minutes on the exercise bike, a few situps and an exercise for the lats. While on the bike, I read an old (2003) copy of The New Yorker. It's interesting to read about the California governor recall thing after it's all over. The article is written before the court set the date and Arnold is elected. Reading current events as history is better than being up-to-the-minute in a lot of ways. Or else it's just an excuse for never tossing old newspapers and magazines. In any case, you see how people wrote the details and speculated along the way. Some things seem unnecessary to write in history but are necessary as current events.

When I get home, FFP has had a call from his dad wanting a five-pound can of some kind of roofing compound. He has been calling around trying to find the closest place to get it. "He's going to do what with it?" I asked. "Fix the roof?" FFP says helplessly. Makes you say, "Hmmm." "Did they get a leak in the storm and hail?" I asked. "I guess," he says and decides to call back. They don't answer so he heads over there to assess the situation.

I don't really know what to do with myself. I called Dad earlier and he seemed to be doing all right although he was disappointed not to feel tons better. But a strained or pulled muscle is a slow heal. I've offered to go over there but he said he didn't really need anything. Now I don't know what's up with my in-laws. I decide to do a few chores around here. FFP returns. The roof is fine at his parents but his dad just wanted to do something. I tell him we should get them to go out for a drive. FFP plants a few things between rainstorms. We need to sweep up the storm mess but it gets starts raining again. I fold the sheets I washed and put some shelf things in the linen closet to make room to see more of the soap, shampoo, toothpaste and stuff like that in there. I sort through a few papers for recyclying, watch a Northern Exposure episode and then a movie off the DVR. FFP had a problem with his computer which got me up there and sucked me into restarting the bookkeeper's locked up machine one more time. FFP and I talk a little about finances and the possibility of moving to a smaller, closer to downtown place. (When my friend and I went into Gallery at Shoal Creek, the owner, who is an acquaintance who also lives on our same street, ask if Forrest and I were moving downtown. Guess we've been talking about it a lot and someone told someone else....)

So, the afternoon kind of drifted away. The doctor I took Dad to called and I called Dad. He doesn't want a stronger medicine, he says, but he still hurts.

Finished watchingY Tu Mamá También off the DVR. (This is an authentically good movie about growing up, about the difference between rich and poor, about life and death. It got a lot of press on its release, I think, but I missed seeing it. Like so many movies. It is beautifully shot with extremely well-thought out scenes.) I also watched some more of Chloe in the Afternoon or, in French, L'Amour l'après-midi.

I read papers, too. And a few other people's online journals. I find surprisingly little time to do this. I am following the fund-raiser for little Schuyler and try to keep up with that. The power of a journal with a lot of readers is being played out as people contribute money to get a speech-augmentation device for a little girl with a rare brain disorder. (No, this isn't a scam. I've met these people in person.)

Our evening event is an in-home concert. Only this home is no ordinary home. It includes a full-blown recording studio, a screening and performance room and a watchdog named Marvin with his own backstage pass. Actually, we all get all access backstage passes. We snack and drink our BYOB wine and talk to the other guests. FFP interviewed the man of the house, but we don't know anyone else. Nor have we ever heard of the musician who will entertain us: Craig Toungate.

The first part of the concert occurs in the screening room. Risers contain couches that have pop out foot rests. Craig enters singing a capella. He sings a variety of guitar-accompanied music, old and new, using his voice in really interesting ways. Dessert was served and we moved to the studio where Craig reprised recording sessions of Disney music. The proprietor of the studio has done many of these sessions. We switch around from being in the control room to being in the recording area with headphones to hear the other tracks. It's all interesting and fun. Plus we met some really neat people. It's raining when we dash out of the studio, through the house, out to the car. We head home, it rains and rains.

At home we settle in, watch a bit of TV and read. Then get to sleep, probably too late.