The dull week that wasn’t

 

Last night, when I complained about a dull week, I gave short shrift to a string of visitors to the cottage. There has been someone here for happy hour every night, and I have thoroughly enjoyed the company and the talk.

Two nights, my visitors have not been regulars. While I adore everyone in my circle and am so grateful for their company, it’s stimulating to talk to people you don’t see often. New ideas, new viewpoints. It makes for lively discussion—and sometimes some deep thinking.

Monday night, as I wrote earlier, I had bookish guests—Steve and Nancy Mosher. We talked long about the Texas Literary Hall of Fame and about Texas literature. Jean was here, and I think both she and I were fascinated by Steve’s account of his career as an engineer which eventually morphed into doing patent advisory work for Tandy Corporation and then to law school. He is today a patent attorney with one of the downtown large law firms. Of particular interest to me, since I cook on an induction hot plate, is that he was involved in the first of that technology.

He and Nancy, both from small towns in Iowa, met at either the University of Iowa or Iowa State—having gone to a small college in Iowa, I still mix up those two “big ones.” Nancy talked some about her long career in the crafts business, which she is just now downsizing, and more about her love of cozy mysteries. We had a couple of favorite authors in common, but she suggested some new ones for me, and I did the same for her. Fascinating evening.

Two nights later, the dean of the TCU libraries came for happy hour. She and I have been friends ever since she came to TCU fifteen years ago but of late our meetings have been infrequent. I called her about a matter that concerned me (but was truthfully none of my business), we chatted, and I said it was time she came for a glass of wine. She did, we had a great visit, and I caught up on a lot of TCU news, good and bad. Such a delight to know that the neglected bond of friendship is still strong.

Tuesday night was our regular neighbors’ night, though we missed Mary. Prudence came, however, and we had a great visit. Jordan and Pru sometimes make me feel like the old lady who is listening to talk and concerns from a generation long gone from my mind. They are sweetly tolerant of my sometimes-old-fashioned views on life. And tonight, the former dean of the humanities college, AddRan, at TCU came for wine, and I served a light salad supper. Crab salad, made with imitation crab, and much better than I expected. In fact, that recipe goes on my favorites list, and readers of my Gourmet on a Hot Plate blog may see more about it next week. As for talk, her field is political science, so you can imagine where the talk went.

Sophie stole the show by grabbing not just one baguette slice out of the basket on the coffee table but taking the entire basket full. She gulped them down before we could stop her. No ill effects though thank goodness.

Meantime, my week of sociability wasn’t over. Sue, my Canadian daughter, and her Teddy came by tonight. Sue lost her father last week, and they will be going to Canada for a memorial service. I am overdue in giving her a hug and listening to her. I still remember the day I first saw Bob Lyon in the shared driveway to our houses. I asked if he was my new neighbor, and he said no, he was my new neighbor’s father. We’ve all been friends ever since.

Tomorrow, longtime friends Carole Tayman and Bill Sheridan, who moved to the DC area years ago, are coming for lunch and bringing my goddaughter, Kate. They are in town for the Van Cliburn. We did that usual hassle—they would bring lunch, no, I would cook lunch. I won because I figure they’ve been gone a while and they need some Tex-Mex. So I’m fixing a queso chicken casserole and with guacamole on the side—and bean dip and tortilla chips for an appetizer. Think that will convince them they should retire to Fort Worth?

This social whirl is wonderful, but I really have a pot full of work on my desk. I read today that the biggest challenge in retirement is not feeling valued, discounted with nothing meaningful to do with your day. Believe me, that’s not my problem. Every morning I think I’ll get on to Helen Corbit, but I’ll just clean up this or that small project—publicity for Finding Florence, the neighborhood newsletter, a proposal I promised to read for the Sisters in Crime Fantasy Agent project. And every day I’m busy until late into the night, but I don’t get to poor Helen. That will have to change soon!