Today started out with unexpected storm warning which I thought a bad omen, but it turned out to be a good day. I had visits from two “daughters” who are part of my extended family. As an adoptive parent, I have long believed that it is less blood than love that ties us to people, so it is, to me, perfectly logical that I have daughters that are not part of my immediate family, daughters that I did not raise.
At noon today I welcomed Kate, my goddaughter, and her significant other, Taran. I have not seen Kate probably in almost twenty years—she was born in Fort Worth, but her family moved away when she was five, and shame on them, shame on me—we barely kept in touch, although we had a few visits. But this spring I had a lovely visit from her mom that rekindled our friendship and made me realize how much I had missed that family.
Kate was in the Metroplex for the wedding of a friend she and Taran know from graduate school, and I was delighted that she put Fort Worth on her agenda. Thirty years old, she works for an international company in niche marketing—something that I try to grasp and can’t. What it means is she focuses on one product. Taran is a follower of the Sikh religion from India but has been here for four years. They met at the Kellogg School of Management at Northwestern University, and today he works for Intuit in the San Francisco area.
Twenty years didn’t make a bit of difference. We reminisced, although her memories of Fort Worth are vague, and we talked about everything from food—Taran did a year in culinary school—to politics—Kate is knowledgeable and passionate on the subject. Both spent a lot of time loving on Sophie and said they wished they had a dog. Their lifestyle intrigues me. Neither one owns a car—in San Francisco there is no need, and they Uber everywhere. When they left today, I asked if they’d called their Uber, and Kate said no, they’d walk around the neighborhood a bit and then tell the Uber where to meet them. They were headed for the Kimbell Museum and then the Stockyards, so Taran could see the Fort Worth herd.
Bright young people, and they brightened my day.
This evening Sue and Teddy came for happy hour, though we got so mixed up on time that I thought they weren’t coming and put away the appetizers just before they arrived. We had miscommunicated about the time. Sue declared me her Fort Worth mom years ago because her mom is in Ottawa, Ontario, so I call her my Canadian daughter. They have just been to Santa Fe and Taos—to my dismay, they didn’t like Santa Fe so well, but they are hikers and outdoors people, and Taos put them closer to the opportunities they wanted. Me? I prefer the shops and restaurants of Santa Fe and told them in half a day they didn’t give the town a fair chance, nor did they get beneath the tourist level. I asked if they’d go back, and they said no, once they visit a place, they strike it off their bucket list and move on to the next place. Again a foreign thought to me—when I’ve been somewhere and liked it, I want to go back. Hence my countless trips to Santa Fe.
After Sue and Teddy headed out to try a new Italian restaurant, the evening fell apart. Volkswagen called to say my car is ready. But I had no way to get it. Jordan was off at the high school graduation of a friend’s son, and Christian had car troubles of his own. He was stranded, waiting for repairs on Jordan’s car to be complete. He had to Uber to pick up the car and then drive to Central Market for my groceries. By then, curbside pickup was closed, and he had some confusion before he finally went into the service counter and asked for my groceries. They handed him two bags but said there was a third bag in the cooler and they didn’t know if it was mine. It had shrimp, so Christian assured them it was not mine—I’m allergic to shrimp. It was almost eight o’clock by the time he got home, and I had given up and eaten my leftover half of a chicken salad croissant for supper. But we had a lovely visit over wine.
We’ll try to get the car first thing in the morning. Meantime, good publishing news, about which I’ll write more later. I’m sort of floating on air and pinching myself tonight.