This is five-year-old Sawyer riding his bike without training wheels. His parents took him to the track a couple of weeks ago, and Brandon held on to the seat until he got started, then let go--and Sawyer was off! Now he can start himself, and he rides around the quarter-mile track at a fast clip. We spent almost three hours at the middle school track near their home, and there were lots of parents trying to teach their children to ride--Sawyer was by far the youngest and the best (okay, I'm a grandmother, and I'm prejudiced--but he really was!). He fell once that I saw, but got up, righted his bike, aligned the pedals to where it was easiest for him to start and took off again. Brandon was running laps, and Sawyer was trying hard to lap him. Three-year-old Ford has training wheels and does very well but doesn't stay with it like Sawyer does. Our stay at the track was punctuated by Brandon's lengthy trip to the bike shop to get Sawyer's chain repaired and then a trip to the funkiest smoothie place I've ever been with the absolutely best smoothie I've ever hard--it had some kind of berries that were supposed to be anti-aging, but when Megan tasted it she said, "It has lots of raspberries. That's why you like it." And it was. Though I discovered smoothies aren't point-free for Weight Watchers--all that fruit turns to sugar. Upshot of our trip to the track was that I came away with a nice sunburn on my face, neck, and front and back left exposed by my v-neck shirt.
Sunday was a delightfully lazy day--breakfast at 10:30 (bacon and eggs--boy, did I blow the diet), then the track, then home to read and nap. Megan worked hard at fixing Tuscany chicken they'd had when they were in Italy recently--it was good but not quite what she wanted, and we discussed ways to improve on it. Lots of herbs--sage, oregano, rosemary and garlic, great bunches of them. I was sorry this morning that the boys had to go to school, the parents had to go to work, and I had to go home. I see these grandsons less than almost all of the other grandchildren, so it was a delight to spent time with them and get to know them. Ford, when urged to give me hugs, said, "One hug!" but he did give it. Sawyer is much more free with his hugs and the wettest kisses of any grandchild! I promised them we would all be together in Colorado at Christmas.
On the way down to Austin Friday, Melinda and I discovered Heritage Homestead, a community of what I suspect are Mennonites. They have a restaurant, gift shop, pottery shop, grist mill, and who knows what else. From the fresh flowers on the tables, I suspect someplace there's a wonderful garden. The landscape is tree-covered, with brushy-sided creeks, thick vegetation, and log fences. The building are rough-hewn logs, inside and out. And the food--the dining facilities are impeccably clean, and the food is delicious. We stopped there on the way to Austin and liked it so well, we stopped on the way back. It's a bit west of the Elm Mott exit on I-35. What we commented on today was how serene the people looked--the women in the restaurant were modestly dressed (but not the funky dresses of the El Dorado people), with hair pulled back into buns. But they were all so quietly happy and genuinely welcoming. It was just a great place.
I've been reading on the Sisters in Crime blog that if you're submitting to agents it's important to have a blog, but it's also important to make it serious, about writing, no talk about your grandchildren, cooking--all the things that make up my blog. Yes thank you, I am serious about writing, but I am also serious about a lot of other aspects of my life--and grandchildren and cooking rank high on that list. If an editor or agent is going to reject my work on the basis of the content of my blog, so be it.
Still rehashing memories of the Texas Book Festival--people seen, comments heard on the future of publishing, interest shown in various books. It's a great learning experience about books, and with 35,000 people attending, it's a sure sign that the future of the book is secure. Phooey on all those who predict the book as we know it will be obsolete and print-to-order is the future of publishing. I don't believe it. Somehow the festival restores my faith in the career I devoted much of my life too.
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