Storms and bridges--a lesson in anxiety

 

This picture of me was taken tonight by friend and neighbor Susan Halbower after we attended a dinner and concert at TCU. I post it because I am usually so un-photogenic. My grandfather once told my mom the only place he'd hang her picture was in the barn. She was a beautiful woman, but she didn't photograph well, and she passed that gene on to me. So I'm grateful to Susan for this picture.

It was 81 and sunny today, the best of all fall days. When I stepped out to get Jacob at school, I thought how pleasant it was to be comfortably warm but not hot. So why did I wake up at 5:00 this morning obsessing about sleet and freezing rain? Because by Friday the temperature is to drop 50 degrees and the weather will bring us that dreaded “wintry mix.”

When my brother lived in Colorado and we’d tell him schools were closed, he’d laugh and say, “What you got, guys? An inch?” But snow is one thing; ice is another. And North Texas gets ice.

Anxiety is pandemic. Everyone goes into anticipation mode when the weathermen (weather persons?) first mention ice, sleet and freezing rain. We talk about it for days, dread it, stock up on groceries, act as if the end of the world is coming. Yes, I’ll go to the grocery Thursday morning—my list includes a new flashlight (which I forgot on the hardware run today).

I told Jacob today that this weekend we would use the iPad sparingly (to save some battery for Juju to read) and we might have no TV and no lights. “You and I might spend a cozy time in front of the fireplace,” I told him. “Well, that sounds exciting!” When did seven-year-olds get so sarcastic?

Tomorrow I’ll bring in plants and water those I leave out heavily—most of the herbs should make it without any trouble, but the fern and plumbago I’m trying to save need to come in, as do the bright red cyclamen that Greg planted today for the front porch. He also brought four perfect small poinsettias—just what I wanted for my Christmas decorations. It’s beginning to look like the holidays around here.

Back to worrying. How will I get Jacob at three if it starts sleeting? Jordan assures me neighbors with kids at the school will help, and she’s probably right. I’ll be glad to have my grandson as company Friday and Saturday (his parents are going to a John Mayer concert in Austin). The last time I set my mind to being housebound (the storm that wasn’t), I was alone. I much prefer company! And I know that by Sunday or Monday at the latest, we’ll be moving freely about the city.

I used to know a man who said to me, “Go on. Bring that bridge right on up here.” I’m dragging that storm bridge as hard as I can. And me a kid who grew up in Chicago and lived in the “icebox corner” of Missouri. But still I feel that dread in my bones

Foolish Frugality

Our heavy frost of earlier in the week has been replaced by temperatures in the 70s and predicted to go to 80 by Sunday, so I spent some of the day carting plants back outside and discarding those left out that had frozen--vinca can easily be replaced. Everything else seems to have come through intact--even the dusty miller that Jacob insisted he had to have. We hid the Boston fern and plumbago in a sheltered corner of the porch and watered them thoroughly and while they don't look happy, they don't appear damaged.
Greg carried in my lush pot of basil for me, and I brought in the skinny one from the deck. It seemed senseless to carry them back out, because eventually they'd have to come in, and I know I'll start over in the spring with new plants. We've had about enough pesto around here so I decided to preserve the leaves, using a method I'd read about online. Blanch the cut basil in boiling water, then plunge into ice water. Dry, pull of the leaves, and freeze in a single layer. The whole process took the better part of an hour--talk about the watched pot that never boils! And want to bet I never use them? That's what I call foolish frugality.
My whole day was a foolish waste of time--thinking I had nothing to do today but pick up Jacob and keep him overnight, I piddled my way through the day and accomplished nothing. I did finish the book I was reading. Now I'm feeling more ambitious. I've made salmon cakes for supper and cleaned a small head of broccoli. After Jacob finishes his allowed time on the iPad, I'll enlist his help to pot some herb samples I got on my last trip to Origins and to make mini-muffins for the freezer.
Then I've got a manuscript to read one last time--a reader worries about the shift from past to present tense and what she/he sees as one big gap in logic. I can easily work around that but must read for tense. There is also the allusion to a possible affair between a female high school teacher and the student she coaches in both math and basketball. The reader said this had to be brought to the publisher's attention but the publisher is fine with it. One line in particular bothered the reader--the other boys were jealous just based on their suspicions. Well, come on, that's how seventeen- or eighteen-year-old male minds operate. A senior editor said she thought that line added veracity, so I feel vindicated on that score. After all, we read about this every day in the paper.
Still don't like that it gets dark so early.

A typical spring Saturday

Saturdays in spring are special--lazy, comfortable, all that. Today I rushed around and went to the grocery and vet (for that expensive weight management dog food) and then the nursery where I bought double blossom impatiens (I'm not a big fan of impatiens but it does well in shade and double blossom is different than the usual kind) and some sweet potato plants to put with it in my planter boxes, which face north. Planted hens and checks in the bird feeder that I bought and then realized I didn't want to feed every squirrel and grackle in Tarrant County. Those succulents are about the only thing with shallow enough roots to do well in that feeder. And I finally got my basil into a pot in a sunny location. One remaining chore: epoxy the decorative birds to the feeder before Jacob takes one off and smashes it. I'm always a bit afraid of epoxy--I think I fear I will glue my fingers together.
Last night I fixed myself Dover sole, one of my staples, and had a piece left over that, yeah, I could have eaten, but I didn't need too. So today it made a great sandwich with a slice of tomato, a slice of onion, and some mayo on rye bread. But as I was walking through the dining room lunch in hand I glanced out the window and saw Jay climbing an impossible-to-climb fence. Then, holding on to the side of his house, he walked along the top of the fence between us. I held by breath until he was safely on the ground, and then I clapped but they didn't hear me. He and Susan had brought the tall stalk of a dead cactus bloom (I do mean tall--24 ft.) around and tied it to the fence by their bird feeder so the birds could feed on the seeds or dead blossoms or whatever. It does look sort of weird, but I'll watch to see if birds come to it.
Tonight, Jay and Susan and I went to Jordan's for happy hour--and to give Jordan a copy of the cookbook. Her friend, Addie, spent a long time leafing through it, going "oooh" and "aaah--that makes me hungry" so of course each time I wanted to know what recipe she was looking at. I was tickled that none of them seemed to read the narrative, memoir parts. I had taken southwestern tuna (out of the book) and a block of cheese from Cabot Creamery in Vermont. On the way out I told Jay and Susan I wanted us to taste this aged white cheddar because the creamery had contracted me about supply cheese for an event as part of their publicity program. Jay, a Vermont native, knew all about it and said he orders it all the time. And it was delicious.
By 7:30 I was ravenous, even though I'd snacked. All I could think about was getting home and fixing some supper. Our trip home was marred because Jay got a call that a good friend, who has been ill, was in the ER. But I came home and grilled a chopped sirloin burger and made an avocado/blue cheese/tomato salad with lemon. I'm now feeling a little less ravenous.
I did pick up 24 doz. cookies today for tomorrow's event, and Jeannie came and got them, the case of wine I had, and the paper towels. I am so worried about the fact that she's knocking herself out over this event, and I don't seem to be doing much. But Jeannie is the party planner par excellence--she knows what she's doing, and my sense is she wants to be left alone to do it, asks for help when she needs it. We'll leave about 11:30 in the morning for a 2:00 p.m. event. We're supposed to have sunny weather tomorrow.

Of Grandchildren and Birthdays, Books and plants

What a lovely 24 hours! Jamie and Mel, Maddie and Edie arrived about 8 Friday night, and since Edie had said she wanted to cook with Juju, we whisked right into the kitchen and put slices of French bread in milk and eggs to soak overnight for French toast. The rest of the evening was filled with girls' chatter and occasional adult conversations. I swear those girls went to bed three times, playing musical beds each time. I can never tell when I get up who will be sleeping where.
Next morning Edie and I fed everyone our French toast--which was crispy on the outside and nice and soggy inside--and then Maddie and I made a bean dip for Jacob's b'day party--I popped it in the oven when the toast came out. Mel and I each had errands to fund, so we all went together--with the girls. The vet, the drugstore, Barnes & Noble, Origins for make-up. And on the way home I suddenly remembered the bean dip which was still baking away. It had big crusts around the edge, so I let it cool and cut the crust away. It tasted like those crusty bits of cheese that drip out of a sandwich onto the skillet and harden. I was sort of reluctant to throw those crusts away. Later in the day, I stirred the dip, heated it in Jordan's microwave and put it out--people kept asking how I made that delicious dish. Of course with my big mouth I had to tell the whole story.
Jacob's birthday parties--yes, two--were delightful. There was a pool party at a nearby public pool--the seating area is roofed and had a wonderful breeze. The kids and most of the adults had a great time in the pool but Jacob refused to do more than dangle his feet in the water, in spite of the urgings of Maddie, the favorite cousin whom he calls, as we all do in affection, "Moo." (That's an earlier picture of them playing.) Then it was back to Jacob's house for chips and dip, barbecue and potato salad, and presents. Jacob thoroughly enjoyed every minute and didn't seem to get over-stimulated. He was very methodical about opening presents, pulling every piece of tissue out of each bag, while Maddie kept a list so Jacob and Jordan can do thank-yous. Christian put on a funny tape of Jacob's first introduction to baby food and we all had a good laugh--since all 25-30 people gathered were either famly or close friends, no one yawned and said, 'Oh, home movies. How wonderful (?)"
Jamie and his family headed back to Dallas, and I came home tired but happy. I did manage a little reading over the weekend. Finished In the Bleak Midwinter by Julia Spencer-Fleming and was so taken with it I jumped right into her second book, A Fountain of Blood. Problem is I find myself thinking in the world of the novel I'm reading instead of the one I'm writing--not good. Am I going to have to give up reading to write? That sure goes contrary to traditional advice.
I am starting a planter tray of seeds of spiral marigold plants--they grow into bushes, instead of the usual marigolds but right now they're the tiniest green shoots. It's fun to watch them change visibly day by day.
Life doesn't get much better than grandchildren, books, and plants. Today I'm catching up--straightening the house, cleaning up, writing, reading, and planning ahead for the week.