Activists, food research, and women's groups

In one day last week, my seven-year-old granddaughter, who has the softest heart of any child I ever saw, wrote a letter of support to the SPCA, complained to her mom about all the plastic bottles in the ocean, and asked if they couldn't adopt another Orca whale at the museum. I love it! Her uncle in New York suggested she would next write a letter to BP, and her mom responded with a supposed message that the child would sign, "Love, Eden." And she probably would!
Yesterday I had lunch with the acknowledged Texas food guru on the newspaper staff--and he put the name to the topic I've been fiddling about: iconic Texas food companies. I would also add iconic Texas foods--the stuff of myth and legend. He drew the line between true food research and food folklore, and I said I wanted to combine a bit of both. But it was a fascinating talk. And I'm more enthusiastic than ever about my new project, but except to write up my notes from talking to him, I have done nothing but focus on my novel. I estimate I've written 3,000 words in the last three days, and I can see it taking shape in my mind. My mentor Fred read a portion of the early part and responded with lots of questions and possibilities--to my surprise, I knew the answer to all of them, so I really do have it worked out in my mind what's going to happen. And as I write, one scene inspires another. Not sure if this is called free writing, writing without an outline or what. I have that general idea, but then my characters tell me what's going to happen. The whole business of long days without TCU Press has disappeared within--what? two or three weeks! Some day I piddle so in the mornings that it's almost lunch time before I'm showered and ready for the day. Doesn't bother me a bit. I read emails, the newspaper, work out, etc. in the mornings. After lunch--and I try to eat out with friends often--I work and read, then nap. In the evening I work and read again--a delightful routine. Except that I'm in the midst of the second Stieg Larsson book, The Girl Who Played with Fire, and I'm hooked. Not getting as much work done as I want.
Tonight I went to a party to celebrate former neighbor Sue's new house--it really is lovely, so much more spacious than what she had. And it has a wonderful, huge party deck. Few people I knew, but enough--Jordan, Christian and Jacob, Jay, Gregg and Jamie. Had a good time until bugs and heat got to me. When Gregg and Jamie decided to go home, I got my keys out of Jay's car and came with them. Still it was fun, and nice to be out.
LIfe is sweet.