One of those days

The view from Jordan's window

Final pictures from Blanco. Jordan comes home tomorrow, and life will resume its normal pace. Thanks to Christian, who has done a great job of seeing that I have company each day and pretty much tending to supper. Tonight was designated a leftovers night, and I had some in the fridge, but I opted to make tuna salad and have it with cottage cheese—my favorite combination. Maybe it was because Sam Sifton’s New York Times cooking column this morning said this was a week for tuna salad.

It was certainly a salad day for me—one of my favorites for lunch: tomatoes, avocado, hearts of palm, and blue cheese, all doused with straight lemon juice, no oil. So good. If I’d had watercress, I would have added it for a pungent taste.

Otherwise, I’d almost write the day off. I spend most of my days and evenings at my computer—it’s where I work, eat, read, “talk” to friends. And today I wanted to throw the darn thing through a window. I tried to log into an online organization—they had recently completely redone their web site, and I guess there are some bugs not yet worked out. The password I had carefully copied, pasted, and saved wouldn’t work. The webmaster got me by that, and I have a new password—still not a sensible combination of letters and numbers that I can remember. So I cut and pasted again.

Over the weekend, I read voraciously to finish a book for review, and last night I wrote the review, remembering a thousand-word deadline. Today when I got into the site, I read the directions—500 words. I cut mercilessly, really butchered my golden prose—and got it down to 840 words. An unusual problem for me, since I usually write short.

I filled out the form for book review submission, but it would not accept the ISBN (international standard book number)—the form had it spaced a way that the number didn’t fit. Back to the webmaster, though I was sure by this time, she thought I was incurably tech-challenged. Not at all—others had the same problem. So I got around that one too, and the book is officially reviewed. Will be up on the Story Circle Network site tomorrow or the next day.

Then I turned to my entry on Helen Corbitt for the Handbook of Texas and discovered that several of the editor’s questions were beyond me. I ended answering questions with questions, which made me feel totally inadequate. I realized that’s why I write fiction—I’m not a dive-deep researcher, as is my good friend who is editing these entries. More frustration.

I think I’ll spend the rest of the evening with a good, cozy mystery and escape all this worrying. Tomorrow, back to editing on my own cozy mystery. So glad and grateful that I have meaningful work to do in retirement. Makes me a happy camper and, I hope, keeps my brain active and me young.

This morning, after that lovely six o’clock rain, weather people forecast wild storms today. Nothing. By tonight, when Jean came by for a glass of wine, she reported that there was no rain in the foreseeable future—but suddenly, the sky has that funny cast to it. I wouldn’t be surprised if we have a storm headed our way. Stay safe, everyone.

Shopping on the square in Blanco

Jordan says they only got ice and soft drinks

No browsing in t he stores

and they are nicely masked. Good girls.

Worn Out and Plumb Tired

That’s how I feel tonight—worn out and plumb tired. Ever feel that way? I tried to reconstruct my day to see why I’m so tired. Went first thing this morning to the bank to sign the loan papers for the remodeling of the cottage—no we still don’t have a permit. I signed on the dotted line for what is to me a whole lot of money, so maybe that in itself was tiring.

Then Amy, my travel companion, and I ran errands—mailed eight packages, which took a lot of time standing on my feet, and then went to Staples for file folders, hanging folders, and the like so I can start loading my new file cabinet—a task in itself which seems daunting. By then, my ankle was beginning to bother me—it is now swollen and a rainbow of colors, with bruises up my calf and down my toes. Staples has rearranged yet again—I wish stores wouldn’t do that. So I sat in the office furniture section while Amy scoured the store for what we needed. The one clerk we asked must have been new—he didn’t have a clue. But we got what I needed eventually.

Came home to eat an early lunch and take a long nap. Jordan emailed all her plans for organizing things this afternoon, and that convinced me further that I needed a long nap. She comes in bustling with energy—not sure how she does that after a full day of work. But she arranged my office pretty much to her satisfaction, brought all the bed linens in from the cottage to be washed, started on books in the dining room. I mostly sat and watched, though while she worked in the office I put together a flyer for her private book sale. Other than that I watched.

And now I’ve piddled away the evening and am ready to go to sleep.

Long text exchange between my children. Last year we went to Lubbock—just the five of us—for my induction into the Western Writers Hall of Fame. There was some talk of a similar family trip to Chicago but I thought it had faded away. Now it’s come up again with a certain dedication. I had been content to let it fade away, not sure I felt up to the trip. But tonight I scolded myself—go now or never. And with the kids I feel I can be dependent. This time around, at least until my ankle heals, I have no objection to a wheelchair or walker. (That’s a huge admission!) And I know I’ll be in good hands.

So I’m thinking of places I want to go, things I want to show them. One is the architectural tour of Chicago from the Chicago river. The University of Chicago; the hospital (now condos) that was the center of our lives. The house where I grew up; the nearby house President Obama owns. The Lake Shore—although I think Lake Shore Drive has changed so much I’d be lost. I don’t care so much about Marshall Field’s but I’d like to eat at Berghoff’s. And of course tour Hyde Park and Kenwood with the wonderful architecture, and the grounds of the Columbian Exposition. Oh, my. I’m getting excited just thinking about it.

Maye I just got my second wind, but tomorrow will come too soon. Sweet dreams, everyone.