AUSTIN, Texas, May 3, 2005 — We are all, to some extent, trapped by our circumstances. Today, dealing with my dad and visiting with a friend I was reminded of the way our circumstances can keep us down, but that we do have options.

I go up about 7:30. I'd had a long, good sleep and felt much better for it. I fooled around with my journal and some e-mail and WEB stuff until 9:30 or so.

I also called for a GP appointment for Dad, talked to the surgeon's assistant and decided not to schedule with them since he was, for now,

'improving.' I finally got the word that no cardiologist had looked at the heart stuff they didn't think but that the carotid showed some plague but good blood flow and no significant stenosis.

I went to the club and did about forty-five minutes on the bike while finishing reading the first in a series of articles in The New Yorker on global warming.

I went home. FFP wanted me to scan a picture for him. I did it and sent it to him in between showering and grooming. I called my dad. (It was the second call of the day...I always call in the morning to make sure he's OK now.) He said a friend of mine was visiting. I hoped I'd hear that she brought lunch but she'd brought chocolates. I decided I should give him something healthy (if not low in cholesterol) for lunch. I took some leftover salmon and a zuchinni from our frig, grabbed the special brand of bacon he'd ask for and headed over there.

I know my dad feels a bit trapped there. He'd informed me that he had a dentist's appointment in the morning at 8:30. "Maybe I could just drive up there," he suggested. The fact that it is very close and he dosen't have to go on any major streets did not, however, convince me that he should try to get in the van and drive it by himself.

At Dad's house, I get out trash, pick up stuff, clean up the kitchen, heat the salmon and saute the zuchinni and serve him. He has me fill these coke and tea bottles he's saved with water and cranberry juice. I tell him I'll be back to actually put out the garbage and recycling and get his mail in.

I head to pick up my friend. We normally meet somewhere when we have lunch together. But he had hand surgery and can't drive his standard shift car. Different people have been taking him places but I think he feels a little trapped. But he's been taking a lot of walks. Like my dad: he's been dealing with it.

After getting a tour of his new furniture, computer, art work we go to Mirabelle. I have pork, mashed potatoes and green beans and eat all of it. I'm really full then.

Back to my dad's house. I get the mail in, garbage and recycling out. He is a little whinny. The maid service is there threatening him with the vacuum. He asks me to replace the light bulb in his lamp and says, "I can't take my blood pressure because my monitor quit working." I tell him I'll bring mine over tomorrow and see if it works for him. I tell him I'll come take him to the dentist. And I excuse myself before the vacuuming starts.

At home, I expect to the maid who comes from the service to our house but she isn't there. Didn't make it today. It's a relief in a way. Since I'm going to be there, it will be nice to sit around in peace. Even if the house isn't vacuumed and scrubbed. (Yeah, I know. I could do it.)

I do a little journal writing and find my blood pressure monitor and put new batteries in it. FFP and I talk. We had considered going to a lecture tonight about Rwanda but we had intended to stay home last night and didn't. We are going to receptions the next two nights. We waffle on hearing horror stories about Rwanda.

Then I alternate between sitting in front of the TV reading and going to the kitchen: for water, for a soda, for dinner (a turkey bacon and cheese sandwich, chips, pickle, green onions). I read some sections of the papers piling up around. Relentlessly piling up. Time goes by even when you don't have time for it.