A working day

Not much remarkable about today It’s hot and dry in North Texas, as though we’re making up for the remarkably cool and wet August we had. It’s not quite middle-of-the-summer, drown-yourself-under-the-sprinkler hot, but it’s enough—mid to high 90s during the day, upper seventies at night. Tonight, we sat on the patio briefly, and it was pleasant. No bugs bit me, at least I think that’s the case.

Working day. Realized last night that I had let an important character in the work-in-progress be murdered, and then had not given him a proper funeral, which would be sort of a test for the main suspect. So back I went to insert the funeral, but without a plan. I told myself that old lesson of writers: just get some words on paper. You can edit later. Already I have ideas to go back and inset tomorrow. For me, it’s always a good feeling to have something concrete in mind when I sit down to the keyboard.

So between my ideas for moving the novel ahead and a radio interview—plus a doctor’s appointment—my day tomorrow is planned. I’m hoping this interview will break the jinx. It’s with Red River Radio, which to me means North Texas and Arkansas, but the interviewer is in California. I’m prepared this time—I know it’s 5:00 p.m. CDT. Good thing I checked, or I’d have called at 3:00 p.m., probably gotten no answer, and given up. This hostess asked for a list of ten questions in advance—should make it easier (I hope).

Tonight was also a cooking night. I made stir-fry but had misgivings about it. My stir-fry has vegetables that Christian doesn’t like—squash and mushrooms leap to my mind. But I cut up lots of roast chicken with him in mind. As it turned out, something came up and I ate a solitary dinner, which was fine. I left it as a vegetarian stir-fry just for me and loved it. It goes in my cookbook, which grows oh so slowly. And at this point, the cookbook is unbalanced—lots in light suppers but very little in entrees and only one recipe in desserts. I confess: I am not a dessert person. If it’s chocolate, my interest goes up; in rare instances, a fruit pie, cobbler or crisp calls to me.

Are you feeling what I am? That we go about our daily lives with whatever characterizes us, from joy to boredom (always your choice), but that we are playing out our petty lives against a larger and very uncertain backdrop. North Korea remains a threat, and daily there are suggestions that Mueller’s investigation into Russia’s interference in our election was severe, suggestions that will supposedly lead to a choice for Trumpf between impeachment and resignation. Meanwhile, he remains himself, tweeting about his golf ball knocking Hilary down—a tweet that put his unofficial disapproval rating on the internet at a high.

And the mood of the country remains belligerent. I read today of a young man sentenced to 30 years for killing an Arabian immigrant who raped his seven-year-old sister. The writer thought this a terrible miscarriage of justice, but what makes it that? The rapist was Arabian? We can’t operate with discriminatory laws like that. The victim was seven? Oh that would be so easy to justify, and the punishment should be severe. But it wasn’t the young man’s place to take vengeance into his own hands. One prays that prison life will be merciful to him and that he will get early parole, but we cannot simply praise him and send him on his way. He has to take responsibility for his action. Neither discrimination nor immigration should be part of the case.

Meanwhile, it’s raining and snowing in the northwest, and the fires may finally be dampened. José missed Florida and remains over water, but Maria is gathering strength and heading for poor battered Florida. Pray for our country, and then go out and do one good thing, just one, for someone else.