Leftovers, from happiness to food

 

I was too busy to remember picures this week, 
so here, for the algorithms, is one of both my boys
on a race day, somewhere, sometime.

My wonderful week has ended. For a couple of days, I had both my sons sleeping under my roof—sort of. There’s no room in the cottage, so they slept in the house. But it’s still, by my definition, under my roof, and that has always been a sign of happiness for me—having grown children back home sleeping safely under my roof. They boys would tell you they were mom-sitting, but they were also enjoying time together, with long, deep talks about the business world.

Today is a leftovers day. Jamie went back to Frisco yesterday, and Colin left for Tomball late this morning. So I am savoring leftover memories of good times and eating leftovers—corned beef has for breakfast that Jame brought me from Ol’ South, because he knows I like it. And for lunch, the last of the cottage pie.

It was a full week that took me out of my routine. We visited one night with Subie and Phil who have known the kids all their lives, and another night with Renee who is a new friend. But she and Colin were in Kingwood at the same time, although they didn’t know it—I thought they would reminisce about that city, but the evening turned into a rousing discussion of politics, movies, and I don’t know what all. We went out to dinner one night—when I ate too much rich food, drank an extra glass of wine, and could tell the difference the next day. Lesson learned--again. For Colin, no trip to Fort Worth is complete without a Rebecca sandwich from Carshon's, so I got a tongue sandwich while Jamie went to Ernesto's for his lunch, and yet another night we had Railhead. Hitting all their favorites.

Colin spent much of his time in the house at the dining table on his computer. He resigned from a company months ago but was still doing consultant work, and this week brought some kind of big financial deadline, so he was busy. As Zenaida said, he was in there on this phone, “talking, talking, talking.” Jamie is happily between positions and spent some time, like

yesterday early afternoon, picking out Joan Baez’ “Love Song to a Stranger” on the guitar. I love working at my desk—even more, napping—while listening to his soft guitar music. So there were lots of nice moments like that. Of course, both boys never miss a chance to pick on their mom, from the way I dictate text messages (Jacob says my messages make absolutely no sense) to my left-leaning tendencies. All in good fun.

Sophie was in hog heaven--she has so many favorite friends, but she instinctively knows my four children and is ecstatic when they visit, dancing around their feet, sitting on their laps, even reaching out to give a kiss.

One night she got me up four times before I was ready to get up, and I'm sure it was because she knew Colin was in the house. When he came to give her a shot, I suggested he take her inside so I could sleep. This morning, she stood and looked mournfully down the driveway as Colin disappeared. Tonight I'm glad to have her back with me, even if I am second choice. 

A highlight of the week was a visit to my brother. John has been either in hospital or rehab since the first of February after a fall and broken kneecap, followed by Covid, followed by pneumonia and various other complications. His wife and son had both, until recently, advised me not to visit, but this week we all three went. To my joy, he looked fine, sounded fine. His mind was clear and his sense of humor intact. We all laughed so much I was afraid the staff would come in and tell us to tone it down.

Tonight, the Burtons are home. I fixed lamb sliders and Texas caviar for their supper, and they regaled me with tales of San Miguel while they ate. They apparently had a wonderful time, loved the place, the architecture, all the restaurants. Christian weighed the differences, pro and con, between a beach resort in Mexico and an inner city. For me, there would be no question—I’d want the inner city, but only if it was San Miguel, which he tells me is out of my reach because it’s not handicapped accessible with cobblestone streets and narrow sidewalks. That’s okay. I didn’t plan to go anyway, though it’s one of the places that has long been on my bucket list.

I am glad to have them back home, but we only get Jordan for half a day. Early afternoon tomorrow she leaves on a work trip to Paris and Reykjavik—poor thing. I will plan to cook things she doesn’t eat, so I foresee lots of pasta in our week’s menu. Life will be sort of more normal next week, but with her away, it will also be a lot different.

Meantime I have projects on my desk, and after having not gotten much done this week, I really need to pay attention to business. It’s all good.

 

National Sons Day

 

Colin and Jamie
a marathon somewhere, sometime.

Losing my grip as a doting mother. First, I almost missed Daughters’ Day, and now I’m about to miss Sons’ Day. Who knew they came one on top of the other? But here they are, after a race though I'm not sure where. And a shout-out to sons-in-law Christian, who puts up with me daily, and Brandon, who shares my love of books. And to grands: Sawyer, Jacob, Ford, and Kegan.

I seem beset these days with AI—took me a while to figure that is artificial intelligence. But between ads online which seem to know every little detail of your life and automated conversations with service companies, I’ve about had it. Only the hardiest of us can resist those ads that broadcast an alarming health symptom and suggest something dire may be wrong. We read on. The one that caught my eye recently asked, “Do you wake at 3:00 a.m.?” Well of course I was hooked because I do wake at three. And at one and at five. But three is a dark hour, and I sometimes have to bat away negative thoughts at that time. I remember my brother talking about three-o’clock-in-the-morning thoughts, most of which led him to say, “Ooh. Wish I hadn’t done that one.”

Well this ad suggests you may have sleep apnea and I forget what other serious conditions, but if you read on, in small print, it says that wakefulness may be due to a list of other causes, among them drinking too much (either alcohol or non-alcoholic or even water) just before bed. I keep an insulated glass of water by the bed and sip frequently which means I wake frequently needing to pee. And finally, it says, we wake more often as we age. Sleep cycles for the elderly are about an hour and a half. Well, hello! That describes me perfectly. I don’t need ads suggesting I have sleep apnea, which seems to be a fashionable thing to have.

I have given up the hunt for my missing keys and moved on to the process of acquiring a new key fob. I recounted my long and fruitless chat with an ADT representative the other day, but the part I left out was my first chat. I told an automated chat person that I needed a new key fob because I lost mine, and she/it/whatever responded with directions for reactivating my key fob. How can I reactivate what I don’t have? Today I dealt with Protection One, the company that installed my system but was subsequently bought by ADT. Three representatives, each apparently with a specific duty. It took at least forty-five minutes, but they were all pleasant and sympathetic, and I got a discount for being a long-term customer. Still, nothing happens fast –a service tech will come out October 10. By serendipity, Jordan and Christian have a tech coming tomorrow, because their system was disarmed when they replaced the back door. Christian said he’d ask if they couldn’t do mine at the same time, but I am sure life is never that easy.

My good friend Melinda came and brought lunch today—chicken salad on croissants. Melinda was production manager when I was director at TCU Press, and we have remained close though we don’t talk often. Being both of the same strong political persuasion, we intended to watch the January 6 committee hearing, but it worked out just as well because we got to catch up on kids and grandkids and talk politics and have a lot of good laughs. I think the longer the committee waits, the more stuff that turns up. Timing is a delicate matter with that committee. I’m sure out of good manners they won’t announce anything until after the mid-terms, but surely people can figure out for themselves what happened. You think? On the other hand, my personal opinion is they need to make a final recommendation before trump truly launches a presidential bid.

Meanwhile, DeSantis, now trump’s rival, is in big trouble. We’ll see how he weathers the storm—and I mean that literally. The pictures coming out of Florida this evening are horrifying. God bless those with damaged homes and protect those stranded by flood waters. Seems even worse than Harvey. Until we reverse climate change, the storms are going to continue to worsen. I can’t wrap my mind around the idea. Nor the idea that people see the storms and fires and floods and still deny climate change.

Despite all the bad in our world today, do have sweet dreams. Seems an oxymoron.

 

My two sons

 

With Jamie here for two days, followed by Colin for two days, I’ve been thinking about how alike and yet how very different my two sons are. This occurred to me because meal prep for each was so different. For Jamie, I fixed a vegetarian dinner Wednesday—green noodles and squash casserole—and Thursday we had BBQ. They did overlap on that, because Colin suggested he’d stop and bring BBQ and I had to say I’d just had it. So last night, I fixed him salmon croquettes—Jamie won’t touch salmon, wouldn’t have liked the capers I put in them (neither did I—kitchen fail!).

Then I began to think of other differences. Jamie drives a red Lexus sports car; Colin drives aFa huge pick-up that for some reason he has jacked up since the last time I tried to get into it. Jamie lives in an upscale suburb; Colin, on the edge of a small Texas city, virtually in the country. (I have a wonderful picture of the two of them, but I can't find it, so there's Sophie again.)

Of course, they share many similarities. They are, like their sisters, fond of their siblings and close to them. Nothing makes these grown Alter kids happier than a family get-together. But there’s something special between the boys—a loving rivalry that one year prompted me at Christmas to get matching T-shirts that said, “Mom loves me best.” Another year, each one got a tool belt, and they had tool-belt duels in my kitchen. Both are marathoners or have been, literally and figuratively following in their father’s footsteps. And both now, are in their fifties-how did that happen?

Another thing they have in common but don’t is a disregard for time: Jamie is chronically late because he gets involved in something and doesn’t leave it. Colin, on the other hand, never sees a reason to get upset or hurry. He’s the one who, when I get upset about a rude driver, will say to me, “Look at you! Why are you so upset?” Tonight he left a little before five to pick up groceries at Central Market, swing by Lucile’s for lobster rolls, and come home. By seven I called to ask if he was negotiating to buy Lucile’s (he’s in the private equity business). He said no, but he’d met some interesting people at the bar, and he just stayed talking.

Tomorrow, Colin leaves and Megan arrives. It will give me the prompt to think about how my girls are alike and different. They, too, are best friends. Each watches her weight and diet, so I have to be careful with both. Fixing an Asian chicken salad for Meg tomorrow night—an experiment.

Meantime, Colin took Sophie to the vet this morning but was back so fast I couldn’t imagine what he’d done. She got a steroid shot and an order for Robitussin. Dr. Minnerly said her cough is aggravated by the heat and the dust and will diminish if and when we ever get some rain. I can tell she’s better already—unfortunately one thing that tells me is that her bark sounds better, and she is frantically barking at something the neighbor boys are doing. But early this morning she was uninterested in her food; an hour after her visit to the vet, she ate. And I haven’t heard a cough yet. (I did hear some coughing late in the afternoon, but nothing prolonged like it had been.)

A side note on the vet trip: Colin came home and said, “Dr. Minnerly said he has a patient base of 6,000. Do you know what number you are?” and I replied right away, “Two, and number one is inactive.” I had known about second place for a while but did not know the extent of his client list. It’s a milestone of some sort, though I’m not sure what. We moved to the TCU area in 1969, when Colin was not yet a year old, and I’m sure that’s when we started going to University Animal Clinic.

It's like Carshon’s Deli, where Colin has been going since he was an infant. Now, he won’t come to town without a visit to Carshon’s. Today he got himself a Rebecca sandwich. How lovely is it to have all that history, all that tradition built into our lives!

I repeat, as I often do: I am blessed.

It’s a dog’s life

My war with Sophie escalated and took a drastic turn last night, and today I am awash with guilt. Poor thing had to go out between every hour and every two hours. She would come to the edge of my bed, dancing in impatience so that her nails went clickety-click on the floor. Honest, if she could have spoken, she would have said, “Please don’t be angry with me. I can’t help it.” She wagged her tail and looked at me with hope in those big eyes. Every time I let her out, I cautioned her to come right back in. Went through a half slice of Velveeta, coaxing her back into the house with tiny tidbits.

Of course, first thing this morning I was on the phone to the vet, and double of course, they needed to see her. They suspected, as I did, she had a bladder infection but didn’t want to prescribe antibiotics without seeing her. Jordan was tied up all day—delivering breakfast to a family who had just lost the mother (the daughter is one of Jordan’s good friends) and then this afternoon with the funeral and reception afterward. So I had no one to take Sophie to the vet, and I cannot manage my walker and a dog simultaneously. Called good friend Subie who was here in 20 minutes, and we dropped Sophie off. Subie said poor Soph was reluctant to go in the door, and when the tech came for her, she stiffened her front legs as though, “I am not going in there.”

Poor dear. It was mid-afternoon before Subie could go back and get her, but she’s home now and asleep in one of her favorite spots. I did take advantage of her absence to take a long nap, hoping to make up for the sleep I’ve missed. After this little adventure, my wallet is quite a bit lighter. I have to admit that I found the cottage a little lonely today without Sophie.

In a different way, it was a bonus day. Both my sons called me, coincidentally on the same day. I had been chasing Colin for several days about a business matter, but he had let his mailbox fill up and I couldn’t leave a message. But today he took care of business and called. This weekend he and his family go skiing, but he has promised to clear out his mailbox.

Jamie had intended to meet us in San Antonio this weekend but called to say his oldest, Maddie, would unexpectedly be home for the weekend. He’s excited about seeing her. Maddie is at U/Colorado and will be in Dallas with an ambassador group as part of the school’s recruitment program. So proud of that girl.

And the prospect is there that I may see both of them soon. Colin and his family will stop briefly a week from Saturday on their way back from skiing, and Jamie says his travel schedule is lightening up and he should be able to come from Frisco for a visit. Meantime I get to spend a weekend with both daughters and two grandsons.

No blogs for a few days. Jordan, Jacob, and I will take the Vonlane executive bus to Austin tomorrow mid-day, leaving Christian in charge of the compound and all three dogs, including getting medicine down Sophie. Wish him luck, please.

Megan will pick us up from the bus, we’ll gather Ford (Sawyer has three gigs all weekend), and head for San Antonio where I will sign my new book at the annual meeting of the Alamo Society. We have intriguing dinner reservations, including one evening at the restaurant affiliated with the Culinary Institute of America. I’m also hoping for a visit with a treasured old friend I haven’t seen in several years.

Yes, I have a bit of trepidation about travel in general and San Antonio in particular. A quarantined woman there was released by mistake, visited a mall and a hotel, and the city declared a public health emergency. Jordan is going to disinfect the world before we are allowed to touch anything. Lots of handwashing ahead. I do not normally panic about diseases, even flu epidemics, but the emphasis on the danger to those over sixty spooks me this time. I am well over sixty, as everyone knows. Still it will be a fun weekend, and I plan to enjoy it.

After that, if the virus spreads, I may become a recluse. Not hard for me to do, as I’m content staying in my cottage, but I do like visitors. And I do need groceries. Darn this disease!

Just looked at pictures of Nashville and surrounding towns. So awful. Pray for the people of Tennessee, even as we pray for those all over the world affected by the novel corona virus.

PS. Gourmet on a Hot Plate will be back next week.

Kidnapped by my sons

Jacob at nine--golf camp!

My sons kidnapped me yesterday afternoon. They came to pick me up for Jacob's "family" birthday supper much earlier than I expected them--I was napping, so they let me sleep for another twenty minutes. I was soon up and dressed--and Jamie was asleep. "I'm not going," he said, but I knew better.
Jamie drove and when he turned off the new turnpike, I kept saying, "Jordan's house is in the other direction."
Jamie: "I know there's a Fuzzy's around here."
Me: "We're not going to Fuzzy's. We're going to your sisters for fajitas."
We went to Fuzzy's.
Jamie: "Don't you want to have a drink with your sons?"
Of course, I did, and that's how I started drinking in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. We had a good time, though a bit too much talk revolved around how much time I have left in this earthly coil and what would happen when I can no longer take care of myself. I assured them I intend to stay for another twenty years and could we please change the subject.
We got to Jordan's a half hour after the stipulated time, and she demanded, "What have you been doing? Bar-hopping?'
Me: "Yes."
The mid-day swim/lunch birthday party was apparently a huge success, though even Jacob said it was a bit much. His parents were clearly tired last night, and Jacob seemed on the edge of falling asleep before he even opened his presents. But they all soldiered on. Fourteen of us (or so) ate fajitas, drank wine, and talked too loudly. Lots of fun and as always people I'm so glad to see--but I was exhausted when we got home, and Colin went right to bed, having left his children at Jordan's. I had done almost nothing all day and had no excuse for exhaustion except that afternoon glass of wine.
This morning we had play dogfights between Sophie and Grace, but Sophie growls with a realistic fierceness when she plays, and Grace, while tolerant, is so much bigger. It was too much for my nerves. I put Sophie outside, and she stared at us through the glass door, the perfect picture of pitiful. I put out sort of a buffet of breakfast choices--forgot waffles, pork roll, biscuits and gravy, so maybe that will be next week. Jordan did most of the cooking, and we fixed eggs, bacon, sausage and fruit plus lox and cream cheese on good deli rye toast. A feast.
And then they were all gone. A certain quiet settles over the house when grown kids and grandkids depart. A very still kind of quiet. Sophie's sound asleep in "her" chair, and I am at my desk, getting sleepy and ready to head off for a nap shortly. The party's over.
 

Mothering - part two

I've always said what goes around comes around, and that was certainly true for me and motherhood this Mother's Day. I had wonderful visits with both my sons. Took an "executive" bus from Dallas to Houston Friday (that is in itself an experience that deserves a separate post) to spend a long weekend with my oldest, Colin, his wife, Lisa and nine-year-old Morgan and eight-year-old Kegan. Had a great time--good family time, sleeping late, allowing myself to be lazy, pampering myself by not helping with dishes, etc--read two good books, had happy hour by the lake (which is really high), fiddled with email but no serious work.
And ate. Lisa had written to ask what I wanted her to have on hand--my serious answer was green tea and cottage cheese. But then I added a tongue-in-cheek list: caviar, eggs Benedict, smoked salmon, and Cakebread chardonnay. And they got it all except the caviar! We had eggs Benedict Saturday morning, smoked salmon and cream cheese for Sunday brunch, grilled and baked salmon for Sunday supper (with the Cakebread, which really is several cuts above my usual box wine). Colin warned me Friday to be prepared to ignore my diet.
Friday night we went to a popular Mexican restaurant near their house, ate on the patio and laughed a lot. Lisa told me to lean in close to Colin for a picture; when I turned toward him, he was truly "in my face" and startled me so I jumped back, resulting in the two pictures above. Another wonderful photo opp came on Saturday when we went for ice cream cones in "old" Tomball--really charming part of town. I haven't eaten an ice cream cone in forever, but it was fun with grandkids.
Monday I spoke about writing and being an author to four groups of fourth-graders, beginning with Morgan's class. My granddaughter was an excellent escort, taking me from room to room, setting up a display of books, sitting patiently through each presentation. Lunch in the cafeteria with Kegan, and I was ready to go home for a long nap.
Tuesday Colin drove me to the bus, and Jamie met me in Dallas. He brought me to Fort Worth, stayed all afternoon, alternately playing with Jacob and working on his computer. About six he took me to dinner, and we had such good, in-depth conversations that we didn't leave the restaurant until 8:30. Then he came in and we kept talking until I finally said, "You better head back to Dallas." I love those long visits with him--sometimes we relive the kids' childhood, doing lots of "Remember when....?"
Now I need a daughter weekend. But I do feel like maybe I was a good mother after all.