AUSTIN, Texas, Apr. 21, 2005 — I am getting some good sleep about 7:45 when Dad calls. He seems OK. I tell him I will come over before I go work out. He says that he did something and his TV isn't working. So there he is: no TV, no newspaper. But he's OK.

I get the bed made, my workout clothes on and go over. He is getting a not authorized message on his TV. Before tech support actually talks to me, it starts to magically work. Now he has newspaper and TV. He doesn't want me to do anything else. I go workout.

I have a good workout. Over fifty minutes on the bike and then ten or so sets of things with weights. I have to stop and tell people how my dad is doing.

When I get home from the club, I call Dad. He says he is going to make his own lunch (reheating some leftovers and eating some salad that I bought for him) and that he is going to take a shower. I tell him I'll come over later. I call and talk to one of the doctors about follow-up. I shower and FFP and I go have lunch together at 34th Street and stop by the bookstore for a few minutes. I buy Dad a doctor joke book so he can hone his since of humor in the face of the problems he's having.

I go over to his place, get in the mail and tidy up the kitchen. He's managed a shower and says the new seat worked well. I look at his incisions and they seem fine. A friend of his is bringing supper. We discuss a few things and I take off.

No one is home when I get home. I sit in the quiet house, pondering everything. A young friend comes by. We discuss dealing with parents and their health choices.

FFP comes home from an interview he was doing and tells me that he has another interview over drinks at the Fonda San Miguel bar around the corner at 5:30. Do I want to go along? Oh, why not?! Life in the old age wars needs to be compared and contrasted with the vibrant world of the bar at Fonda now and then.

We go over and pull up just as a pink (PINK!!! it shouts) Escalade drives in. That's the gal he's interviewing. She's starting a company. Currently they provide valet service with female valets (Valettes). In June they kick off Pink Car, a car service for women and the men who love them.

Well, this lively young lady is a tonic. She's starting her service with a bang. She's an entrepreneur legacy...her mom is a friend of ours who runs Menagerie, a preeminent Austin gift shop and bridal registery.

We talk, greet other people arriving for their drinks engagements that we just happen to know...a guy who used to do some work with Forrest, a woman I used to play racquet ball with who is now a judge, the owner and executive chef of Fonda.

I have a margarita and we eat a bunch of apps. When we split, the gal has feinted for the bill, doing an end run around FFP, quite a feat.

We go home. I am so sleepy. I check the answering service and let the dog out, get the paper and go to settle in the bedroom. But we get a call from a friend who is only in town now and then. She is in the neighborhood so we tell her to come over if she wishes. We move to the big room and get the AC on. In a while she comes. FFP has opened a bottle of Pinot Noir and I'm sipping a glass. She has a soda from Central Market but she takes a small glass of wine. She's a piano player who swears by FFP's arm massage. He gives her a foot massage (reflexology) and says he detects knots reflecting the shoulders. He gives her the arm massage, too, and she leaves happy after visiting with us a while. I know when I feel bad, that the foot massage is an amazing lifesaver.

We move to the bedroom, but we are so tired we get right in bed and try to watch an episode of Northern Exposure but we are both falling asleep. We give up and go to sleep. I feel that today is a new day. That my dad is doing well enough that I may be able to just check on him once a day and, of course, worry about his shopping, prescriptions and doctor's appointments. He has even said he was going to call a neighbor and ask for them to bring his paper to the porch in the morning. I hate to think of the poor guy sitting there with no paper to read.