A day of little things, some not so good

 

A foggy, damp and gray morning kind of set the tone for the day to come. We’re expecting rain, but so far just the dampness—and what it does to the spirits.

TCU lost a valuable employee, many of us lost a good friend, and I lost a blog follower yesterday when Tracy Thompson was found dead in her home. Tracy was for as long as memory serves the liaison between retirees and TCU, and she was unfailingly cheerful, polite, and helpful in a role that surely would strain the best of dispositions. We were friends—not close, but friends. For a while we both belonged to a group that lunched together, and I think Tracy came to one of the memoir-writing classes I taught. I know she followed my blog and commented sometimes, and I was always glad to hear from her. I think the last time I heard she said she was anxious to try my salmon croquette recipe because her late mom had made those, and she missed them. Rest in peace, Tracy. I know your smile is brightening Heaven, even as many of us are left with a hole in our hearts at your sudden and unexpected leavetaking.

Dull, rainy days are good for proofreading, and I managed to get through another seventy-five pages today, so that I have only fifty to go. I have sudden anxiety attacks that I haven’t saved all my work, but every page seems to have a correction, so I guess that’s okay. Good friend Carol said she would help me proof if she weren’t snowed under with her own projects, but I told her, truthfully, it is something I need to do myself. I am making notes for whoever deals with my corrections. And I’m appalled that I didn’t remember how stormy the Custer marriage was—or how stormy I made it in my novel, which was based heavily on primary sources.

Jordan and I had another “girls night in” dinner tonight, as Christian had an office event. We chose scallops for dinner. Christian said last night at dinner he would eat scallops at Saint Emilion,, the fanciest, French-est restaurant in Fort Wowrth, but not anyplace else. I raised my hand, and he hastily said he would eat them if I cooked them. Jordan explained to our dinner guest that Christian has a big appetite and scallops are expensive—we save them for when it is the two of us.

Tonight, we made them in a au gratin sauce, which I kind of think is a poor man’s or lazy man’s version of coquilles St. Jacques—the sauce had butter, crème fraiche, white wine, lemon zest, and pinches of cayenne and salt. All would have been fine, except that the spoon overbalanced in the dish, splashed out, and I had sauce all over me, the butcher block, and the floor—Sophie took care of the latter, with an apologetic look at me.

We ran into cooking problems that I think we’re caused by trying to use a toaster/oven instead of a regular one. I usually don’t have a problem with that, but tonight Jordan, who has a horror of rare/raw meat or seafood, kept saying they weren’t cooked, even though we left them longer than called for. I have to give her credit—when we finally ate them, they were perfect—soft, not rubbery, and yet cooked through. Contrary to the recipe I topped them with some panko and pecorino. A good ladies dinner.

Seems like there were other things on my mind today, but I cannot think of them. I’m off to read a mystery. Have a good weekend, everyone.