A moment of nostalgia, a visit, and a workday

 

Awful Waffles

Indulge me a moment, please. Jordan came across this picture of Jacob, and I couldn’t resist posting it. He will probably not be pleased, but….He loved waffles at that age, and when he asked for them, I jokingly asked if he wanted an “awful waffle.” He translated that into “waffle waffle,” and his parents couldn’t understand why he repeated the word twice. He was such a darn cute toddler—I told Jordan tonight we should have put a brick on his head. As it is, he is now a lanky teenager, taller than his dad and still growing, with this astoundingly deep voice.

Nice if brief visit from Colin, Lisa, Morgan, and Kegan at lunch today. They were on their way to ski in Colorado. Colin always, always wants lunch from the local deli where he’s been eating since he was a baby, but since we’re not ready yet to go into restaurants I suggested carry-out from Great Outdoors, our favorite sub shop. There was a mix-up in the order—they gave us five sandwiches when we ordered eight, but it was straightened out. Colin’s verdict was that it was good but not as good as the deli; my opinion is he ordered wrong—who orders a hot meatball sandwich from a sub shop? Should be meat and cheese and all the trimmings.

We have not seen them since July—thank you, pandemic—so it was a bonus to have even this brief visit. They are none of them vaccinated, though Lisa has had covid. They hugged us with masks on and assured me I didn’t need my mask—I put it on anyway, and we ate on the patio. They’ll come back through next Saturday—and we’ll get deli food.

Spent the rest of the day making notes to update my web page, something I should do more often—haven’t done it in a year. Many authors do their own pages, but I’m not that smart and have a wonderful young woman who does mine and can follow my squiggly notes of put this here and that there. This year, because of pandemic, there was slim pickings among new pictures to post—it seems we only take pictures when there’s company. I maybe need to deliberately take pictures of me at my desk, etc., but that would mean cleaning up the entire area. Next chore on my list: itemize my tax receipts etc. In Texas, we have an extension because of snowmageddon—until June 15. Still I am a little nervous I haven’t gotten the forms from my accountant yet.

Leftovers in the oven—last night’s dinner all over again tonight, even down to the blue cheese salad dressing. I didn’t think either the chicken casserole or the salad was that good—too bland—but Jordan has requested them again, so I tried to perk the salad dressing up with more vinegar and mustard. The chicken casserole simply needs salt and pepper. Win some, lose some. Lisa brought me a book titled Texas Tables, which I mistook for a book about table settings. Exploration proved it to be a Junior League Cookbook from Harris and Montgomery counties—lots of wonderful recipes for veal, lobster, lamb. Now I need the budget to go with it, but I did see some chicken recipes that looked good. I’ll be experimenting.

Busy week looms. Looking forward for a visit from Jamie and some happy hours with friends. Plus a desk full of chores. Life is good.

The perils of anticipation

This morning I was out of bed by eight—okay, it is Saturday, and I am retired—and in short order had my hair washed, bed made, clothes changed, ready for the day. All this haste was in anticipation of the late-morning arrival of Colin and his family. But somehow, I had a nagging feeling that they weren’t coming. They were driving from skiing in Colorado home to Tomball, outside Houston and would stop for a brief visit.

Sure enough, he called. He was coughing and has red eyes (probably allergies) and fourteen-year-old Morgan did not feel well. He left it up to me, and I reluctantly told them to skip the visit. I’m pretty much staying in and not taking chances.

So all my anticipation collapsed like a punctured balloon.

Still, that was joyful anticipation. I’ve had a couple of bouts lately with anticipation that was more like dread or, at the least, apprehension. In other words, I can work myself into a snit because I’m anticipating an event. It’s called chronic anxiety.

Much as I loved my recent  weekend in San Antonio, I suffered agonies of anticipation. Would I have to speak in public? How would the book signing go? Would Jordan be able to disinfect everything on the Vonlane bus and in the hotel? Would we be exposed to the novel corona virus? If nothing presents itself, I can dredge up bizarre possibilities to worry about—like bus accidents and hotel fires. Even as those things go through my mind, I know I’m being ridiculous.

Of course, once Jordan, Jacob, and I were on the bus, I was at ease. And in San Antonio, I loved the life was going on as usual (it may not be now), people were crowding the streets, laughing and singing. The neon-lit carriages  paraded through the streets. Jacob said it reminded him of New Orleans. We ate in wonderful restaurants, the meeting went well, my book was a success. The hotel was interesting and comfortable. And as usual, I wondered why I had worried.

But I came home and did it all over again, anticipating the talk I was to give Thursday morning at the Arlington Women’s Club. I invented excuses why I couldn’t go, I rehearsed my talk and convinced myself I would freeze in the middle of it. I was sure I’d talk too fast, too slow, too loud, too soft. In the car, I told Subie if she saw me panic, she should distract me with a question. She asked what question, and I said I didn’t care, just break the spell.

Once I was onstage and into my talk, I actually enjoyed myself. Theladies laughed and clapped and responded. Every once in a while I’d look at Subie, and her grin reassured me. I lost my train of thought for one brief nanosecond but got right back on track. And instead of seeming interminable, my talk seemed short—I was at the end almost before I knew it.

This reaction to speaking is nothing new. I spent many years talking to groups, conferences, workshops, and each time I suffered agonies of anticipation over a speech that went fine. I had a good friend who was a natural, entertaining, off-the-cuff speaker, and when I complained, he always said, “But you do it so well.”

It seems I can’t convince my mind to quit anticipating and accept that the event will go fine. I think I’m doing a bit of that right now with this virus threat. No sense wringing my hands as long as we’re all well and taking precautions.

Yes, I am pretty much cottage-bound, and it’s a strange feeling. Sometimes, unconsciously, I think of myself as ill or fragile and then I have to remind myself that I am perfectly fine—it’s the world around me that’s fragile.

The mind, at least mine, is a strange thing, capable of playing all kinds of tricks on us.

Writing is such fun—sometimes

For a week I’ve been carrying the opening scene of a mystery in my head. Me, who thought she might not write another mystery. At first it was a Kelly O’Connell, but I’ve decided it’s a Susan Hogan Oak Grove Mystery. And in this week, it has refined itself, taken on a new shape, added details. What they say about things on the back burner of your brain is definitely true—when you think you’re not working on something, your brain is.

Today was grocery store day which effectively took up my usual best writing time. But after lunch, I deliberately sat down and began to co commit my wandering thoughts to paper. Within less than an hour I wrote almost a thousand words and had such fun doing it. Who knows if the next thousand will come as easily or where the story is going—it’s already surprised me once. But it’s a great feeling to have gotten a start. And I even have a title—but I’m not sharing for a while.

Meantime, back to the cookbook, though I won’t get much done this weekend. Megan and her family will be here in about half an hour, and while I will snatch some time—when they are at baseball games and the like—I won’t have concentrated periods of attention to writing. Which is okay. I’m my own boss, and I do things at my own pace. No deadlines.

Today was a lovely day in North Texas—seventies and sunny. Jordan and I ran errands this morning—which means I sat in the car and she ran into the alterations place, the cleaners, the post office, the school (Jacob forgot his clarinet), the liquor store. But we did the grocery together. Everyone in my family seems to be on a diet, so we didn’t buy much for the upcoming visit, though I did order some cheese and sausage that Christian picked up at curbside at Central Market—we are loving that service.

Tonight, Christian was potting plants on the front porch, and I took a glass of wine out there and sat and visited. . ..

Oops. Pandemonium has just broken loose. The Hudgeons family from Austin has arrived, complete with their miniature poodle, which has Sophie doing her run-in-circles act. ‘Night all. I got to go.

It’s Still Texas…and Spring sort of

Feeling too smug lately, bombarded with reports of snow in some parts of the country and really warm temperatures in others. In North Texas, after heavy rain last weekend, we’ve had beautiful, balmy, sunny days. Last night I woke in the night and turned on the a/c. Today was a different story. I turned off the a/c as soon as my feet hit the floor. It was maybe 60 but drab, and it just got colder. I swear this afternoon it rained in half our back yard but not the other half—I could tell by the damp and dry areas of sidewalk. And this evening when I went to supper, it was 51, damp, breezy, and downright uncomfortable.

A friend in Nebraska wrote me that spring was finally there—it was 70. I replied that we were expecting 68 and considered it a cold front. All a matter of perspective.

Supposed to warm up tomorrow again, but meantime it’s one of those nights when you never feel quite warm enough.

Got some nice news last night: my oldest daughter, Megan, and her family—Brandon, and sons Sawyer and Ford—are coming up from Austin this weekend. Okay, they’re coming for the TCU baseball games, but I’ll get to spend time with them and am really looking forward to that. My instinct is always to kill the fatted calf but then I prepare for meals that we never fix, so when she said not to worry about food except maybe Sunday breakfast, I curtailed my impulses. Made a shopping list of sausage and cheese and the like, have hot dogs and buns in the freezer for the boys. Jacob will love having his cousins here.

A pleasant sociable day today, though I did get some work done. Went to lunch with friends, and we talked a lot about the Barbara Bush funeral. We’re all on the same page politically, which makes it ice.

I’m always hesitant to back-seat drive, but I bite my tongue about the long way ‘round Robin Hood’s barn (just looked it up to make sure that’s a folk saying and not something I invented—Wikipedia, which is good for some things, verified my memory). Anyway, we went the fastest roads, but they were sure far from where we were going. I kept quiet. On the way back, we ran into what appeared to be a terrible accident—lots of intersections blocked. I had to use my back-roads skills to avoid the resultant congestion.

Dinner tonight with Betty. We went to Ellerbe’s. I admit that was a selfish choice because they have just put beef carpaccio on the appetizer menu. Betty had a seafood salad—shrimp, which I can’t eat. And we split bread pudding—oh, my, talk about rich. Great meal.

I’m off to spend the remainder of the evening sorting through some cooking magazines. Clearing my desk and looking for ideas for my cookbook.

Happy spring, everyone. Surely good weather will come and stay any day now.

Day Brightener on a drizzly day

Mel, Eden, and Jamie, cozy in the cottage

A visit from the Frisco Alters (minus one) really brightened this rather discouraging day. They were missing our sweet Maddie, who is in Boulder at school. But we celebrated, late, sweet Eden’s fifteenth birthday (last Monday). She is already thinking about schools and floored everyone by saying she didn’t have to go to school in this country. Her dad said she should go wherever she wants, but her mom begged for time saying maybe stay within range the first year. I suggested Canada as a compromise and tonight wrote her about Queens and McMaster. She has long had her hopes fixed on NYU, where an uncle is on the faculty. I also understand she has her hopes pinned on a mini-Cooper. She got her learner’s permit first the thing the morning of her birthday. These days they don’t teach driver’s ed in schools (a pity) but she has taken six online hours for credit and now practices with parental supervision. Her mom predicts she’ll be a good driver.

Since they were arriving around eleven (actually made it close to eleven-thirty), I “went to church” via the livestreaming. I was glad to be virtually there, but the music is never as glorious between the computer and my hearing aids.

We went to Twig at Clearfork for lunch, and I have to say lunch with my son is an experience. He orders generously—appetizers for the table were calamari with artichoke hearts (an odd combination but good), a flatbread, and French fries with gorgonzola fondue—loved that fondue! Jamie ordered fish and chips, Christian and I had hamburgers, and Mel and Jordan had steak salad—I should have followed their lead. I made a bigger show than I usually do of wanting no bacon and rare burger—it was well done but did have good flavor. I wouldn’t have complained, but when I went to the restroom the kids told on me, and the restaurant sent me home with a whole new burger, rare. I haven’t looked yet to see how rare it really is.

Desserts, like appetizers, for the table: drunken donuts, which I didn’t try but others said were very rich and good; they came with a chocolate, a butterscotch, and what appeared to be a vanilla sauce. Then there was a crème brulee and a generous piece of lemon cheesecake. I zeroed in on the crème brulee.

It was a leisurely lunch with lots of laughter and fun, and we were all overfed when we came home. The Frisco family stayed a while, Jamie played his guitar, and then they left, everyone having plans to watch the Oscars—which barely interest me. Usually not at all, but tonight I think there will be commentary that I will appreciate. Kimmel has said he won’t go too political, but we’ll see. After everyone left, I took a nap, and then, bam!, it was dinnertime.

It’s nice when one outstanding event sort of fills a whole day. I loved it. Tomorrow, back to work and routine.

Life is always interesting

I expected a dull weekend but it didn’t happen that way, and I struggled to get in my 1,000 words a day. But it was a happy struggle, although the things that distracted me weren’t always happy.

Megan, my oldest daughter, drove up from Austin on Saturday with Ford, her youngest son, now ten. Ford is a confirmed TCU baseball fan—absolutely loves it. So Saturday, because they couldn’t leave Austin until Ford’s soccer game was over, they went straight to TCU and ended here about 5:30. So glad to see them. Missed the family daddy, Brandon, and older brother Sawyer, but I’ll settle for what I can get.

A couple of friends dropped by for happy hour, and one went with us for dinner. We tried Press Café, hoping to eat outside, but the wait was long. We went to the Tavern, ate on the patio—I’d always thought I didn’t want to sit on the patio because of its closeness to busy Hulen, but we were unaware of the traffic. I was, on the other hand, acutely aware of the blasted loudspeaker, though both Megan and Ford said they didn’t notice it. And the conversation level was loud—as a result, I could hear Megan but nobody else (she has always spoken loudly and clearly—great for the lawyer she is!).

Home and in bed by ten, shades pulled, lights out. Jordan came home by a little before ten to visit with her sister and was dismayed to find everything dark.

Despite the happiness of a surprise visit, it was not a joyous weekend. My neighbor, Susan, lost her 93-year-old father suddenly, and her husband was out of town, couldn’t get back for over 24 hours. We knew and loved and admired her dad, David. We spent Friday evening with Susan, alternating between tears and laughter as we remembered him, an unusual man and a true gentleman.

Sunday we cooked a casserole for the family’s dinner, but it didn’t go quite as planned. I had this happy little vision of me cooking and Jordan and Christian doing all the necessary chopping, of which there was quite a bit. So I was astounded to wake from a nap and find Christian had deposited some but not all of the ingredients in my kitchen. Called Jordan and she said she’d be home shortly. I set about chopping two large onions, three ribs of celery, and grating three large carrots. Unbeknownst to me, she came home, started the hamburger to brown, and came out to say, “I need the vegetables.” I said I was the scullery maid in the auxiliary kitchen, but she didn’t find it funny—until late tonight when she came out and said, “It smells like onion in here.” Nice joke, Jordan.

We got the casserole fixed and delivered, dined ourselves on roast chicken and asparagus, and wrapped up the evening. One of those weekends when you’re grateful for family in several different ways and pleased to squeeze in bits of time for your own business.

Ready for a new week, though it will be broken with a doctor appointment, the visitation and funeral for Susan’s dad, and some lunch and dinner dates. Life isn’t quiet and dull even when it’s not totally happy.