Feeling out of step

I have decided I am definitely out of step with the times. Sunday night a friend posed a question on Facebook: she wanted to know if she was the only one not watching the Superbowl. I assured her I was keeping her company. I would have liked to see the commercials but not badly enough to sit through a noisy, distracting football team. And since I don't know one team from another, it hardly mattered to me who won (Jacob was rooting for the Broncos and was crushed by their catastrophic defeat). I am of the school that the whole thing is a bunch of folly, too many players are overpaid and have over-inflated egos. I applaud those who are investigating long-term effects of head injuries, and I hope high school and college football is a thing of the past by the time my grandsons--or, heaven forbid, granddaughters!--get there.
Now comes the Winter Olympics which are, to me, interminable, taking up way too much TV time. I don't watch that much TV but I do enjoy the news and the TODAY show--except now they are half or more about the Olympics. Like many people I am fearful about this set of games. I think the terrorists mean real business. Someone said to me tonight that the athletes will be safe but travelers in airports and railroad stations will be in danger. Sometimes I have a sort of blind faith that authorities know what they're doing, and all will be well. That faith has deserted me this time, and I am truly fearful of what will happen at the games. And of the tension athletes, their families, and their countries must be feeling.
Then last week comes news of the tragic overdose of Philip Seymour Hoffman, perhaps another testimony to the skewed values in parts of our culture where a man of such talent can fall victim to addiction. But guess what? I didn't know that when I first heard the news. I had no idea who he was--though I have since learned almost too much about his great talent. But I am not a moviegoer.
I was a bit cheered when a friend posted about the camera focusing on celebrities at the Superbowl. Her teenage daughter shouted, "Paul McCartney," and my friend said, "I must have done something right."
A part of me would like to go back to the days of Joan Baez, Neil Diamond, Judy Collins and others. Another part feels guilty because if I want to slow down aging, I should do better at keeping up with the world around me. But the biggest part of me is content, and I think I'll just go on with my oblivion--at least about current forms of entertainment. June Christie and Stan Kenton, anyone?

Writing my way out of the doldrums

This morning I had the doldrums, maybe a hangover from my bad day yesterday. But my horoscope said if I wanted to accomplish things and live fully or whatever I had to get out of my comfort zone. So I put on my black velvet jogging suit (instead of jeans) with a deep pink turtleneck (always my best color) and a fuzzy pink/red scarf. Then instead of mailing my bank deposit at a drop-in box, I went to the office and put the letters in their secure mailbox--plus had a short visit with everyone. Then off to Central Market where I made sure I had enough food for the coming cold snap (probably only one day, and I could survive a month on what's in my pantry and freezer!).
Part of the reason I was in the doldrums was that I feel stalled on my chili project. I'm putting words on paper, getting the basics down, but so far it simply hasn't come alive. Like fiction, non-fiction should have a spark that makes it leap off the page at the reader. So far, my chili manuscript is, at best, pedestrian. I'm working on the theory that if I just get all the information down, then I can go back, revise rewrite, capture that spark. I usually can do it, but each time I write the first draft of nonfiction I think an idiot wrote it. (Jacob would tell me that's not a nice word, and he's right). I'm plugging away, but it is plugging, and I find myself looking for any distraction. Tonight I went through all my own recipe files for unusual chili recipes--vegetarian, lamb with lentils, white chili. Frank Tolbert is rolling in his grave.
When this book is finally done it will be great. I know it in my bones but I'm surely fighting to get there.
In a big departure from chili, Betty and I went to a new sushi place tonight--very modern, very slick, and we looked at each other and said we'd prefer the old neighborhood place where we usually go. Anyway, it was an adventure--even just finding it was an adventure.
In Fort Worth, eating out is going to be iffy for the next few weeks, and we'll all have to choose our destinations carefully--places that don't get stock show business, plus during Super Bowl week--who can predict where those people will eat? Everywhere!