Jordan Appreciation Day

      

Jordan called it Mom Appreciation Day, but it was really Mom appreciating Jordan for all the little (and big) things she does for me. On Mothers’ Day, we forgot my leftovers as we exited the restaurant amidst a flurry of hugs and goodbyes. I just assumed she had them, because she knows I can’t carry a to-go box with my walker. But she set them down—and forgot. When we got home and discovered the faux pas, she said, “I just wish Christian and Jacob would help me take care of you.”

That rocked me on my heels. I know I need help with some big things, but even with the walker I think of myself as fairly independent. She made me realize there are a lot of small things I cannot do for myself, from getting clothes down off the hanging bar to mopping up the face powder I spilled in the bathroom—and carrying the doggie bag. Yes, I can cook, get myself to bed at night and up in the morning, work at my desk, go out with friends, drive on some limited errands, but as someone once said, it’s the little things that make life rich. And Jordan does those for me, often anticipating what I need before I realize it.

Tonight I drove my car to the VW dealership for some minor (I hope) repairs. I told Jordan I’d leave well before she got home with Jacob because I was going one of my devious back roads to avoid rush hour traffic. I thought I made good time, but I had barely begun talking with the service rep when she appeared. When I commented, she simply said, “VIP service.”

So today I took her to lunch at Rise, the restaurant that specializes in souffles. She swore she’d never had one, and I’m quite sure I never tried to make one. Now it’s one of the few things I really couldn’t do in my tiny kitchen. A toaster oven won’t quite accommodate a souffle. I have been to Rise several times—both in Fort Worth and Dallas—but it was new to Jordan, and she loved all of it. The rustic French décor, plates, serving pieces, linen—it’s all of a well-coordinated piece.

We decided to split, which worked out unevenly. We shared the marshmallow soup that Christian raves about—perhaps I heard too much hype, but I wasn’t blown away. Then we had a truffle-infused mushroom souffle and a baguette sandwich with jambon, gruyere, and cornichons. Both excellent (I just ate the other half of the sandwich for supper). Of course, chardonnay with our lunch.

Besides our elegant lunch, we ran errands—the grocery, the vet twice (because I wasn’t clear about what I needed), the cleaners, Trader Joe’s—sort of exhausting. I came home to take my usual nap. My mom used to say “There’s no rest for the weary”—or was it the wicked? I must be both weary and wicked, because yesterday when I napped, our lawn guys noisily did their job; today it was the neighbor’s lawn guys, who are just as noisy and sound just as close. Perhaps tomorrow shall be a day of peace and quiet.

Tomorrow shall also be a day of work. I’ve been lollygagging while I wait for copy edits on the Alamo and, I hope, a new contract. But tonight I decided to take matters into my own hands, and I’ve made a list of things I could and should do. Admittedly, some are cooking—I want to pickle a red onion and read the new Bon Appetit—but I also need to put new plants in my indoor garden, and I think I’ll look at an old manuscript, once published in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram and see how I feel about reprinting it. Anticipating a good day—and I’ll be so glad to have the wheel locks off my car. Just maybe I can also find out when they’ll replace my bedroom flooring. Life comes at you with unexpected problems, but I always figure I can handle them.