A perfect day—or calm after a jolly night and morning

 

My new good friend, Pierre.
I was always a sucker for a sweet gentleman.

This morning daughter-in-law Lisa asked me what my plans were for the day, and I said, “Nothing. I don’t have a plan.” It was delightful to wake up, know fun visiting waited for me, and not a single deadline, not even one of my self-imposed ones. Yes, tomorrow is the neighborhood newsletter deadline, and I could have been proofing what articles I have, but I didn’t. I’ll worry about that tomorrow.

By eight o’clock this morning, Sophie and Pierre were chasing each other around the back yard, an activity that they pursued indoors and out all morning, usually under Gary’s watchful eye. Poor Gary spent his morning saying things like, “Pierre, get off the dining table.” Pierre is definitely a goofy teenager.

About ten Colin, Lisa, and Kegan arrived on their way home from their annual Colorado skiing trip. Jordan and Christian served fruit salad left from last night, cookies, sausage-and-cheese sandwiches in biscuits. I contributed some cranberry/orange scones I had in the freezer. We sat in the living room, munched, ate, and visited.

Just about when the Tomball Alters geared up to get on the road, Colin remembered he wanted to work on my computer, so that kept them here another thirty or forty-five minutes. But I think he fixed the WiFi connection. Of course, now my printer is offline, and efforts to reconnect have so far been unsuccessful. I am thankful for progress, and that recipe for pasta with anchovies, garlic, and tomato paste can wait—but doesn’t it sound good?

The Tomball Alters finally got off, and Jordan, Gary, and I sat on my patio in the lovely sunshine, with the dogs, now exhausted, sleeping at our feet. Jordan and Gary were drinking champagne—I was not!

About one I said goodbye to Gary, who would be heading back to Dallas, came in and did a bit of work at my desk, and then had a good nap. Sophie was so tired she did not wake me up for once.

This evening, after all the hilarity of twenty-four hours, it’s almost eerily quiet around here. Christian has gone to someone’s house to watch basketball, Jordan is asleep, and I don’t know what Jacob is doing though I saw him come home with his golf clubs. I lingered over emails and Facebook, started reading a new book, and fixed my supper such as it was.

What do you eat after a big party? Leftovers, of course. For a late lunch I had salmon spread on crackers and a half of a green deviled egg that Jean brought last night. For supper, I repeated my lunch menu as an appetizer and then made a half a corned beef and Swiss sandwich on rye and sided it with some leftover cabbage from the St. Patrick’s Day dinner. We have an abundance of leftovers, and in my book that’s good. I love gnashing on party food the next day. When I used to give huge Tree Trimming parties at Christmas, I ate caviar and cream cheese, sausage balls, cheeseball, and chocolate cake for days afterward.

I am, I fear, being a baby about my upcoming root canal—Tuesday. Buffered by an eye doctor check-up on Monday—new doctor, new experience but just a check-up. No problems. I have decided not to try to be an author until after all the dental work. I am aware that the thought of the tooth procedure hangs over my head, though I am grateful to my family physician for prescribing a bit of valium for me to take to ease through it. I’ve never taken valium in my life, never intend to again, but I know my own tolerance for anxiety is not great.

So tonight, I’m going to write a book review, read, go to sleep as early as I can get Soph to come inside. It’s really nice to be lazy.

I saw a devastating picture on the internet today. A young boy, couldn’t have been more than five or six, walking alone, bundled up, his face red from cold and crying. In one hand, he had a toy; in the other, a bag of sweets. His parents had sent him, alone, to cross the border from Ukraine into Poland. The picture broke my heart and will not leave my mind. Damn Putin! As I count my blessings—the life situation that allows me to be lazy—I pray for the people of Ukraine. I hope you will too.

 

The joy of a rainy day in September

Waking up to a soggy, dark world on an early September morning is sheer joy after the heat of summer, even though this summer wasn’t as bad as some. It had rained hard last night, again probably during the night, and it did it again this morning. And today the high was only 82. I already have visions of fall—and a big pot of freezer soup. My freezer has way too many small icebox dishes of leftovers, just waiting to be made into soup. I asked Christian if he would eat freezer soup, and he said he’d have to know what’s in it. I laughed aloud and told him I wouldn’t know. I just dump all those tads and bits together, add a can of diced tomatoes and maybe some broth, and call it soup.

The bad thing about all that welcome rain is that is cancelled whatever slim social life I have during quarantine. Last night, we abandoned our weekly Tuesday happy hour with neighbors because the patio was soggy-wet. Much harder today was to call a longtime and very dear friend to cancel lunch—she was going to bring it so we could eat on the patio. I explained hesitantly that we were not yet inviting people into my cottage. She had been travelling, because of a death in the family, and mingling with people, and although she’d been masked, I didn’t want to break the practice we’d worked so hard to follow. It’s worked to far, and we’re sticking to it. That’s what’s golden about old friendships—people who love you understand. And she did.

The rain made it the kind of day to curl up with a good book, and I started the day with every intention of being lazy. But my conscience, well-tuned to the work ethic, dinged at me. I was leisurely about checking email and catching up on the news of the day—so much of it discouraging but a few bright spots. But then I turned to a partially finished lecture for the chef course—and, miracle of miracles, I finished it. I’m not excited about it, it’s probably the last important of the twelve lectures, but I’m happy enough with it to leave it alone and move on.

So then I did what struck me as a perfect rainy-day activity. In my past life, when I had a fair-sized house, cooked anything I wanted, and collected recipes like a madwoman, I had an entire drawer in an antique secretary filled with folders of recipes—all labeled as to what meal they were for and whether or not I had tried them. A few of those folders survive in a file cabinet in my closet that is hard to get to. In this life, I have a bulging—and I mean ridiculously bulging--file folder among several others in a wire rack next to my desk. It was clearly out of hand, so I sorted through it and discarded maybe half the recipes—things that given the restrictions of my cooking situation and my family’s rather limited tastes, I would probably never cook. I think I collected them before pandemic when I could still entertain occasionally. I did keep a few that nobody else in the family will eat but I couldn’t bear to give up. Like gravlax—I’m determined to make my own sometime.

My mom always told me the Lord works in mysterious ways. No sooner had I sorted the recipes than Jordan announced we had to do long-range meal planning. Oh my, was I Johnny-on-the-sport. So now we have a week’s worth of menus, things like cheesy grits with black beans, avocado, and radish or Grandma’s chicken or Frito pie. We’ll eat high on the hog. Tonight? Slow cooker pork chops and corn pudding. Yum! I’m hungry.

Tonight, the sun has come out, and the world is bright again, though apparently the rain is not over.

That kind of a Sunday

It was that kind of a Sunday

Sophie’s pose illustrates perfectly how I felt about today—it was that kind of Sunday. Once again, it took me a while to get going, though I did get my hair washed so as to be ready for church. But Christian pleaded exhaustion, and I went to church on the computer. Apparently, the national habit of turning everything into a designated holiday has reached the churches. Today was Higher Education Sunday, a special day I don’t remember ever hearing of before. But the sermon hit home with me—it was about how TCU and my church, University Christian, need and support each other. The community formed by those two institutions has been the center of my adult public life, and I was glad to hear the relationship affirmed, in spite of past occasions when the two took separate paths.

I would much prefer to be physically in church, but when that isn’t possible, I am grateful for the live streaming. Today neither the audio nor the video cut out, which happens too frequently and is so frustrating. The music, of course, is not as grand and glorious, but I still get a sense of a part of the week set aside for worship and inspiration.

Once the early service was over, I alternated between baking oatmeal/raisin cookies and a chicken casserole for supper. Not sure the casserole was a hit—personally I thought it needed salt, which is easily added. But I didn’t taste the wine/herb base I used. It’s a technique I used to do all the time with leftover turkey. Somehow it wasn’t quite the same. Jordan’s blue cheese salad was good.

Finished a cozy mystery that I really enjoyed—By Book or by Crook, a Lighthouse Library Mystery—and started an Alexander McCall Smith title, The Second Worst Restaurant in France. Despite the great popularity of his #1 Ladies Detective Agency Series, I never could hook into those books and so have not been among Smith’s legion of fans, which always gives me the feeling I’m missing something. But I liked the title of this one, and novels about food always draw me in. Not far enough in yet to have an opinion.

Still basking in the loveliness of last night’s birthday dinner. Sue took this picture of Jordan, Christian, and me. As usual, they photograph wonderfully—I think that was a gene I missed, but this is a better picture of me than many. My dear late friend Bobbie used to tell me she didn’t know why or what it was but I really never did look good in pictures—Megan always said, “Bobbie tells it like it is.” And my mother told me that her father once said she took such a poor picture that the only place he’d hang it was in the barn. I think Mom passed that gene on to me.

Hard freeze tonight, but who needs a greenhouse? I have a shower stall.

A do-nothing day

Sophie watching me at my desk

See those eyes?

Sometimes I have a do-nothing day. I think it’s therapeutic, because it usually signals the start of an intense work period the next day. So today I had one of those days, partly because my plans for yesterday and today fell through and left me at loose ends. I’m not sure why that’s an excuse, but it is.

So I got off to a slow start this morning and didn’t worry about it. Lingered over the morning’s email and political news, spent far too long on Facebook answering messages and inserting my two cents much more often than it was called for. Then I decided I had to study all the unread titles on my Kindle. A friend mentioned Gabrielle Hamilton’s memoir, Blood, Bones, and Butter, and I had read the free sample last night. But in the cold light of day I convinced myself to read something I had already bought before moving on to that one. So I decided on The Chilbury Ladies Choir, mostly because it reminds me a bit of The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society—how English citizens coped with World War II.

But before reading, I moved on to a delightful hour going through recipes I’ve put aside to try. Doing this is productive because I make myself take a long look at each one and admit with about half that I’ll never fix them. So the folder grows thinner. And I planned some good suppers for myself—tonight, a potato and wurst skillet, tomorrow salmon—King salmon is on sale this week, and I think I’ll make cucumber soup to go with it. Had a great debate with myself—decided I wanted lamb, but did I want a loin chop or ground lamb for burgers? Decided on the burgers because then I’ll have them all week.

Finally, after a lunch of cottage cheese over cucumber, chopped tomato, and sliced scallion, I settled down to re-read an article online that is pertinent to the book I’m working on. I’ve read it before, but now, with much research and background behind me, I find new meaning in it, new facts that take on significance.

And then about two, the day suddenly and unexpectedly darkened, the sky turned gray, and the wind blew hard. Well, of course, nothing would do but that Sophie and I curl up in the bed for a nap. First time in a long while that she’s actually stayed on the bed, pretty much motionless—a blessing. Even now, with the day brighter and the rain seemingly stopped, she is reluctant to let me out of her sight. If I go to the bathroom, she accompanies me; if I do something in the kitchen, she lies in the bedroom doorway where she is close.

Guess it’s time for me to fix that supper of knockwurst, potato—I’ll add a bit of kraut for good measure.

Good news and a lazy day

My conscience bothers me on a Sunday when I’m too lazy to go to church, but today I told myself that I was still tired, recovering from the hospital stay. I’ve got to stop giving myself that message. Resolve: to get out more, to exercise more.

Because, tonight, good news. Our neighbors, who are both doctors, came over to catch up with my health. It was extremely kind of them, but we wanted them to know so that if I have an episode and want immediate help, I can call them. The good news part is that my heart rhythm is regular—no a fib. I pray that it stays that way. A little learning is a dangerous thing, and of course I have a theory about what caused the a fib and why it’s gone, but I won’t go into that. I honestly do feel better—but still tired.

Wrote my thousand words today and piddled the rest of the day. We had a picnic tonight—that’s sort of what we call it when we eat in the cottage instead of at the dining table inside. But the dining table apparently is still full of now-clean dishes from last night’s dinner party, and homework has been added to the mix. Christian fixed barbecue chicken in the crockpot and, lacking any other buns, served it in hot dog buns.

A belated thought about last night’s dinner party: I entertained often in the house, with frequent dinner parties of six or eight (plus me, always adding the odd number). I am delighted that Jordan and Christian have taken up that custom, and invite me most of the time—It’s truly a pleasure to still sit at my usual place by the kitchen door (Jordan calls it my princess chair) and enjoy the conversation and good food. Christian is a good cook and also an adventuresome one. Last night we had bulgogi, a Korean dish he made of flank steak. Megan had given him the recipe, saying her boys loved it. It was the first time in a long while that I’ve had flank steak that wasn’t too chewy—and I attribute that to Christian’s carving it really thin. The marinade made it delicious, so thanks to Christian and, secondhand, to Megan.

After the picnic, Jacob brought his homework out. Christian was puzzled by some grammar questions, but I found a secret long ago to pronoun usage. Suppose the sentence given is “We and them wanted to go to dinner.” Instead of trying to remember the rule, break it into two sentences. You would say, “We wanted to go to dinner,” but not “Them wanted to go to dinner.” Clearly it should be “they.” I thought my explanation was wonderful, but I fear Jacob was a bit confused. Oh well, I’m sure it’s not the last time I’ll repeat that little lesson.

Busy week coming up. Doctor and dentist, a radio interview, and the biggie of the week—my launch/signing for Pigface and the Perfect Dog. I hope if you’re close by, you have it on your calendar. At the Wine Haus just down Park Place and across the tracks, closer to Eighth Avenue, 5:00-7:00 p.m. Come enjoy fun and fellowship. I’ll post a graphic on Facebook tomorrow.

What a day, what a week!

Today my local family came home from a four-day vacation at Lost Pines, a Hyatt resort property in Central Texas. They go every year with friends and look forward to it—water sports, lots of fishing for Jacob, general relaxation. I promised them a welcome-home dinner today and made family favorite Doris’ casserole. Imagine my disappointment when Jordan announced that Jacob, having just had his eleven-year-old check-up and gotten four shots, was on the couch and not joining us for dinner, and Christian was not feeling well. Christian did join us for dinner—said he thinks the pecans he ate backfired on him. It was a subdued meal, but the casserole was good, and we got good pictures which I will use for a blog I’m to do with a recipe attached.

This was a funny week. With my family gone, I scheduled myself heavily—lunch out two days, dinner out two evenings and happy hour guests the third, a dental appointment. In spite of all that, I got a lot of writing done and feel good about most of it. Plus took care of busy details of various kinds, kept up with my blog and with my email.

It was a great week for feedback on my writing—two posts as a guest blogger and one online review. Plus, today came unexpected news that six of my young-adult novels will be given new life as ebooks, beginning this month and one a month. I signed that contract a year ago, but with all the turmoil in my life I’d forgotten about it, so the news came as a great surprise. I approved cover art today for the first one. I’ll be sharing details on the blog, you can be sure.

It was a wet week too. We had a lot of rain, and yesterday’s storm blew down some small pieces of the big, old elm in front that I’m so protective of. Walking coach Teddy came and neatly stacked them. When we walked, we came up and across the front porch, and we both noticed a hanging plant that was really drooping from lack of water—too high for eleven-year-old Sam to reach as part of his watering chores. Teddy watered it.

Walking was hard of me today. Partly because I worried about the ache in my back, even sometimes at my computer. Teddy, with his usual calm manner, reassured me—yes, it’s probably spinal stenosis because almost every adult my age has it, but no, it’s not severe or I’d be feeling sharp pains. And my breathlessness today? High humidity. He said he was even breathless. I finished the walk in better style than I started it, simply because I felt reassured.

So tonight, I feel lazy. Going to spend the rest of the evening reading. Tomorrow is another day, and I can work then. May next week be as adventure-filled as this.

Sunday, ah Sunday

Sundays are church days. That was firmly engrained in me as a child, and I harbor a bit of guilt when I don’t go. In the last six months or more, I’ve missed a lot of church because it was too painful to walk, drive, all that was necessary. Now I go when my family goes; when they don’t, I stay home, enjoy a lazy day, and ask the Lord to understand.

You wouldn’t think with the slow-paced life I lead I’d need a lazy day, but Sundays are still different for me. This morning, I got up just before eight and got to my desk to find out what was going on in the world. I had a sleeping ten-year-old on the couch, and a sleeping dog on the floor near him. The minute I tried to get a picture, Sophie leapt up and began barking furiously at some threat only she detected. She did that several times, but nothing disturbs Jacob when he’s sleeping. He woke up about 9:30, claiming he’d been awake an hour. Yeah, sure.

I spent the day at my desk, doing odds and ends—emails I should have written earlier, first edits on the last pages of my novella. Tomorrow I’ll write the new scenes I think it needs, and I’ve got to come up with a title. The novella will go in an anthology, and the editor is asking for titles. I’m baffled. It has to do with fear, but the right title hasn’t come to me. Fear, revenge ..  . some combination of those? I need help!

I also read a bit on a book I had started and was increasingly disinterested in. Today I decided for several reasons to abandon it. I’m tired of heroines who beat themselves up all the time with guilt for sins done or brave deeds undone. I really don’t need that kind of angst. So I started reading the mystery I wwwrote 44,000 words on some time ago and now want to finish. Believe me, Susan Hogan has no such guilt.

I almost regretted my stay-at-my-desk day when Jordan posted Facebook pictures from Joe T.’s with people whose company I really enjoy. When she earlier said they were going to brunch, I had just eaten a big breakfast—but by the time they got to brunch, I was eating the leftovers from last night’s salad for lunch. They operate on a different time schedule than I do.

Case in point: they shared Sunday night supper with me of sliders and corn. We ate at 7:30, whereas my stomach wants dinner at six. But Christian grills my hamburgers just the way I like them—crisp on the outside and pink on the inside. I absolutely won’t quarrel with his time schedule.

So far tonight, none of the predicted thunderstorms, though I thought I heard a rumble to the south and the sky has occasionally had that eerie blue-green color. But then patches of blue would appear. Go figure.

A lazy day

March 4, 2017

            I didn’t sleep well last night—stomach issues--so it was lovely to do what the Brits call a lie-about—lie in bed way past the usual time my conscience gets me up. Being lazy was fun—the stomach issues not so much so. But my energy level didn’t improve as the day went along. I blame it on the weather—dreary all day. This afternoon I swear it was raining in my driveway but not in my back yard—crazy!

            Can you tell I'm reading a Deborah Crombie Scotland Yard novel? Lie-about for sleeping in. This morning, frustrated at something, I almost said, "Bugger!" Talk about getting into the world of what you're reading.

            I finally declared a vacation day—no writing. Determined to finish the novel. When I take a day off from writing ideas bubble in my brain, so it’s a good thing.

            Last night I had dinner with Subie and Phil at Local Foods Kitchen—I’d had takeout from there before but had never been there. There’s a small but pleasant seating area inside, and tables on the porch, where we sat—a little chilly by the time we left but pleasant. Watched the sky turn from rosy pink to gray. But the main attraction is a counter full of take-out food. I had a twice-baked potato and a beet-and-orange salad; my friends had crawfish/shrimp cakes, potatoes Dauphin, and a kale salad. (I can’t abide kale and am allergic to shrimp). Apparently the Kitchen is crowded and noisy at noon but was perfectly pleasant in the evening.

            Today I was ravenous at noon, so diced and fried a potato and had two sliders—should have saved one but I went ahead and ate it. Tonight, Nova Scotia fish cakes, cold roast beet pieces, and sautéed zucchini slices. The fish cakes were a recipe I found and wanted to try but when I got into it, I had second thoughts. You mash potatoes and let them cool; mix milk and fish and refrigerate; then heat, drain, and cool. Then mix all together and refrigerate Good golly Molly, should have started this at noon! It calls for cod or similar fish, but my go-to is my good canned tuna.

            The fish cakes, to my surprise, were good enough that I’ll try again. This time I really will start at noon, so I can finish before 8:30. I’m not one for fashionably late dining. Cleaning up? Time enough tomorrow.

Where did the day go?

I planned on a lazy day today, but I had no idea I would be as lazy as I have been. I decided I wouldn’t try to write—might not till after the surgery—but I would read. I have a new Cleo Coyle coffeehouse mystery, and I want to get beyond page 1. But I frittered away the morning on Facebook and emails—plus a brief trip back to bed to ease my aching hip, The afternoon went the same way, and here it is almost nine o’clock. I haven’t read at all, and my bed is calling me.

Some nice things happened today. Christian fixed an Asian dinner tonight—cashew chicken with rice. Really good but a tad too much Siracha sauce for me. They brought dinner out to the cottage, and we all ate together. I don’t see much of Christian during the week when he’s busy with work, so it was a treat to have him here for dinner. Jacob has taken to coming to see me at least once a day but he usually doesn’t stay long, so it was nice to have him eat his dinner and take part in the conversation.

During dinner, I got an email from an old friend—I mean old; she was a couple of years ahead of me in high school and her sister was one of my best friends. She had read the newsletter I sent out a few days ago and was responding to the good news of my recovery which has begun even before surgery. I’ve had really good and satisfying response to that newsletter, and I am flattered and grateful. If you don’t get it and would like to, please email me at j.alter@tu.edu.

Sue and Teddy came by about 5:30, bringing with them their happy enthusiasm for each other and for life. We talked about dogs and kids and neighbors and a bit about politics. It’s uplifting to visit with them—happiness is contagious. People who find each other in mid-life deserve special joy.

Earlier in the day Cyndy Twedell, a minister from my church, came by to deliver my prayer shawl. My neighbor’s mother, now deceased, knit it several years ago, and I nearly wore it out wrapping it around me as I sat at my desk and occasionally rolling my chair over it. I thought with regret that I’d just have to discard it when it fell completely apart but it occurred to me to call Cyndy and ask if the prayer shawl group could repair it. They could, and she returned it knowing I’d need it at the hospital. She told me it been infused with renewed prayers. Cyndy stayed for a cup of tea and conversation, and we had a good visit talking about church, some of the people we’ve lost touch with, different choices in worship, and, yes, a bit of politics—the upcoming women’s marches. As she left, Cyndy offered a kind prayer, one that I appreciated.

To there you have my lazy day. Excuse me now—I’m going to read Dead Cold Brew.

Lazy days aren’t just for summer

This morning I woke up, knew I had an 8:30 breakfast group—and rolled over and went back to sleep. I just didn’t want to get up and get going. Finally dragged myself out of bed just in time to hug Jacob before he went to school. Then this afternoon I slept two hours and lounged in bed another half hour, dozing, dreaming, and thinking. The only positive result that came out of that is I made notes for my new novel—the notes are probably 100 words, not an encouraging start on a 70,000-word novel. But it was a lovely day—took time this morning to make ham salad and devil an egg, so I had a wonderful lunch. And email kept me busy a lot of the day.

In line with my new program of improving my mobility, I put a note in the neighborhood e-mail list that I needed someone to do errands--what I didn’t specify is that I wanted someone to do errands in the mornings with me, not for me. A lovely lady, with two kids in middle and high school, responded, and we came to an agreement. But I was overwhelmed with offers, a few from people I didn’t know but many from friends. I thanked each but explained I wanted this to be a business arrangement and not Judy taking advantage of friends. We will have our first outing tomorrow—I made a long-delayed appointment with the audiologist at TCU. And Thursday we’ll go to the hardware and grocery and then, by myself, I’ll meet a friend for lunch. Life is on the upswing, but I am so grateful for the many offers. People are good.

Tonight was neighbors’ night at the Grill, and I was escorted by two young men, ages nine and ten. They were well behaved and did me proud. Full table, so that I didn’t even get to talk to the people at the other end until I went to say goodnight—and remind them of the signing next Tuesday night. Fun, but now it’s time for Jacob and me to go to bed.

Austin

Back from two-and-a-half days with my Austin family and feeling like a semi-new person. I did put work aside (okay, I did a little bit but only because I felt like it), read a lot, slept a lot, and really really ate a lot. Also spent a little time consciously reassessing and probably a lot more subconsciously, but I could feel my sense of joy in life returning.

My Austin family is a delight—Megan, Brandon, and I stayed up after the boys were in bed, drinking wine and talking about this, that, and politics. For the first time in forever, B. and I are not too far apart in our political assessments. Watching Megan is like watching a whirlwind in action—on a weekend when she said they had nothing going on, she attended three soccer games, went to the grocery twice, and served dinner to a total of nine adults and fifteen youngsters—no small feat but my oldest daughter pulled it off with grace.

Friday night we went to a bistro called Vino Vino in the Hyde Park area. Fun, interesting menu though I wimped out and ordered a slider—wish now I’d had the smoked trout salad. Brandon, the boys and I split an order of steak tartare—I think it’s pretty cool that a nine- and an eleven-year-old like steak tartare that well (Meg abstained). For dessert, chocolate mousse with carmelized bananas (only three slices—now that was a problem!), and four spoons.

Saturday and Sunday I didn’t leave the house—read, napped, ate at my own leisure until evening when Megan fixed spectacular meals: Saturday was roasted salmon filets, slow-roasted tomatoes, and cous cous. It’s all one recipe, and my rough idea of it is you roast the tomatoes in olive oil and herbs, drain out the herbs, add fresh, and stir some of that oil into the cous cous, pour the rest over the salmon. Good heavens, it was good. The tomatoes are so soft and flavorful, I swear you could skin them, whirl them in the blender, and have spaghetti sauce.

My nephew’s wife and two-year-old joined us Saturday night because he had taken the three older children on a Scout family outing to stay on the USS Lexington in Corpus Christi. But Sunday he called to say they were all well rested and could we get together that night. So Russ and Beth came with four children, ages nine to two. Brined, grilled pork chops, a great potato salad Russ brought, and roasted Brussel sprouts. I don’t see that branch of the family often enough and it was a real joy to visit with the adults and listen to the screaming children, who mostly stayed outside.

There’s something rejuvenating about large, affectionate families, and I am certainly blessed in that regard. The whole weekend cheered me, and I came back with a few resolves—to take care of the books I have in print and need to repost before I worry about a new manuscript, maybe to find a publisher for my historical novel which languishes unappreciated, and not to beat myself up about not getting everything done every day. We’ll see how long such resolve lasts.

Two of the things that I decided were stressing me were the ongoing remodeling (looking really good) and my bum hip which limits my activity. The first I will just have to live through; for the second, I’m having a test Wed., and then I hope we can stop diagnosing and start fixing. So I’m optimistic. Now about that trip to the grocery that has me intimidated….

It will work out. The Lord moves in mysterious ways his wonders to accomplish.

 

Lovely, lazy day

Today was one of those days that rarely happen to any of us over the age of, say, fifteen. I woke up knowing there was not one darn thing I absolutely had to do today. In fact, the world wouldn't fall apart if I stayed in bed all day. I didn't, but I slept late for me (7:45) and lounged through the morning with email, Facebook, and the skimpy Saturday newspaper. It was 10:45 by the time I had done my yoga, made the bed, and straightened the house a bit.
Spent the rest of the day doing what I wanted--reading edits at the computer, checking email, doing a little more on my taxes, and taking a good long nap. In fact, I woke up because Jacob was standing over me, poking me. Once again, I would tell you I only dozed because Sophie was enraged by something off and on, but I sure didn't hear Jacob and his dad come in. By the time he wakened me, he said he'd been here twenty minutes. We roughhoused with the dog on the bed (against my rules but I didn't feel like complaining), and I finally got going.
The day itself was beautiful--sunny, 70+ temperature, and gorgeous. I watered porch plants and saw the damage my laziness during cold weather had caused. Some will come back, others won't. Yes, it was a crime to be inside on the first gorgeous day in a while, but I was doing what I wanted to do--and that's a real luxury. Jacob and his parents went bike-riding and walked over the "really cool" new pedestrian bridge over the river. Tonight my mysterious neighbor seems to be having an outdoor party--tiki lights blazing in the backyard. Every once in a while I turn and stare at them--love those brilliant but controlled flames.
Even my meals were my favorites today--tuna sandwich, a dab of sweet potato salad and another dab of hummus, and sliced cucumber for lunch. For supper, Jacob and I had breakfast--scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. He's busy at his iPad, and I'm back to my computer.
The kind of day to thank the Lord for--peaceful, happy, and fulfilling. Now I'm off to write 1000 words on the work in progress (I hope).

Father's Day Musings

Sophie and I are spending a lazy, quiet Father's Day at home, just the two of us. My father has been gone thirty-seven  years, and I've been single thirty years. The fathers in my family to celebrate are my brother (father of two, grandfather of five) and my wonderful sons and sons-in-law but they are all far away. The local family has gone to Denton to be with Christian's family and watch the TCU College World Series baseball game. I was invited but declined--a long day was not what I wanted after our doggie birthday party last night. The dog honoree half of this household is totally tapped out. Has slept all morning.
I've piddled--watering plants, watched Sunday morning TV and read the paper--used to take an hour; now it takes ten minutes. But I did make a meat-loaf--two lbs. of ground meat may sound a bit much for one person but it will make great sandwiches...and I may share either with the Burtons or the houseguests I'm expecting this week. It's a mix of mostly ground lamb with a bit of ground pork.
I've actually made some progress on editing my work-in-progress, and my mentor sent me a critique with lots of helpful suggestions, so I'm anxious to keep working. But I do think I feel a nap coming on.
Father's Day of  course brings back memories of my dad, and I wish I had digital images to post  like so many others have. Dad was forty when I was born--not so old today but old in that day. He was a workaholic, so I don't remember much playing but I do clearly remember hearing the story of the day he took me as a toddler, to sled on the small hill in the park by our house. Another gentleman came along and said, "Well, I guess I'll go home and get my granddaughter too." Dad was crushed.
There are other good memories--vacations in the Indiana Dunes, trips to Canada, his birth place, but I came closest to my father when I worked for him.
He was president of an osteopathic college and administrator of the associated hospital, and yes, he brought his work home with him at night. I was his executive secretary for several years while in college, and whatever management and organizational skills I have I got from him. Nothing angered him more than to answer his phone and hear a secretary say, "Please hold for...." He answered his own phone and thought others should place their own calls.
Dad was a voracious reader, and sometimes he and Mom read aloud to each other at night. They particularly liked Will and Ariel Durant's histories, and Dad was a huge fan of Winston Churchill. On weekends, his spent his time gardening and when he retired, gardening was his principal activity. He loved it. And he made a terrific grandfather, spending more time with his grandchildren and taking great delight in them. He particularly thought Jordan, my youngest, was created especially for his delight. But they all also remember how strict he was about table manners.
Thanks, Grandfather, for making me the person I am and for giving me standards to live up to.