My daughters are enjoying a girls-only trip to Chicago, primarily to hear a John Mayer concert, but they took in a little of the high life. Dinner last night at RPM Steaks—we ate at RPM Italian in September and loved it.
I reminded them that today is my mother’s birthday. Jordan remembered one year when we headed to the cemetery but to my dismay she insisted on stopping at 7-Eleven. I demanded to know why, and she said, “Grandmother loved it when I brought her blow pops.” So, she apparently bought a blow pop and sent this picture.
Meantime, back in Fort Worth, I was living the high life too. Breakfast with Book Ladies this morning at Old Neighborhood Grill. Book Ladies is a group of women, mostly retired, whose work and lives have centered around books. One other woman and I are the only members of the original group that met over 25 years ago, when we were all far from retired. This morning there were at least 12 women at the table—too many for me to easily follow any conversation over the noise of the ladies and the background noise of the restaurant. But I had one egg over easy, toast, and hash browns, the latter a luxury I’ve only recently begun to allow myself. And it’s lovely to see this happy, vibrant group together, going strong after all these years. I think I can rightfully call myself a founder.
For lunch, friend Carol and I went to the Modern Art Museum, where a former student of mine is sous chef—I guess that’s her title. On Tuesdays, the kitchen is hers and she is responsible for the special. I asked in advance what it was and could we have a window table on the water. We had the table, and I had the special—lamb chops, orzo with artichoke heart pieces, spinach, feta and a wee bit of crème fraiche to hold it all together. Absolutely delightful! I plan to try to duplicate it. The plate was brightened with a small salad—tomatoes, cuke, and endive. Hats off to Heather Hogan Holt—I’m still sorry she didn’t follow her original leaning toward a bookish career, but she sure makes a great chef (and good friend).
Saw the doctor about my lactose intolerance (after all that feta and crème fraiche) and was told I was doing so well he didn’t need to see me again unless I need him. I’m to go back to my primary care physician. Love those words from a doc, “You’re doing so well, I don’t need to see you!”
In between all that I wrote 938 words on my work-in-progress—sixty-two words to go to reach my daily word count.
Tonight? I’m tired and headed for another evening of reading.