Looking ahead, looking back

Linda and me--who knows what Christmas!

 

This is one of those evenings—no thoughts for a blog because it seems to me not much happened today. Yet I feel I haven’t been good about blogging this week, and I tell myself surely I can come up with something significant to say. Ah, there’s the rub: significant. Sometimes when I start a blog without knowing where I’m going, words suddenly come tumbling out. Not so sure that will happen tonight.

Not off to a good start. Just tried to place my Central Market order for curbside delivery tomorrow and just before I clicked “Place my order,” I noticed that it said “Pick Up Austin North Lamar.” I’d love a trip to Austin, but that’s not in the cards for tomorrow. We are busy planning ahead for spring break.

When you live in the Berkeley neighborhood of Fort Worth, as we do, spring break is a mixed blessing. Zoo traffic is unbearable and clogs our streets until we cannot get out to go about our business nor, once out, can we easily get home. Each year the FW Police work with neighborhood officers to plan way to handle the traffic, but there is apparently no ideal solution. This year we have placards to place in our cars that will, theoretically, allow us entrance to the neighborhood on a street closed to the public (Shh! I’ll never tell which street) and also allow us to park on the street, though we are encouraged to park in our driveways. When your driveway was built in 1922 to accommodate cars of that era, getting three cars in is not easy. None of this bothers me, because I don’t drive any more, but it is a hardship on the rest of the Alter/Burton compound.

I am planning ahead in another way. Sunday the Burtons will drive to Fayetteville and tour the University of Arkansas campus with Jacob. And son Jamie will come from Frisco to stay with me. Jamie will bring his guitar, and I’ll hear lots of Joan Baez. And I’ll do what I often do—cook something for him that he’ll enjoy but the Burtons would not eat. On my Sunday night supper menu are corned beef, twice-baked colcannon potatoes, and roasted carrots—yes, I’m rushing St. Pat’s Day a bit, but I particularly want to fix the colcannon. I’ve never had it but have read about it with longing. And Jamie loves cooked cabbage. I used to sauté it with butter and sour cream for him.

For those of you with no Irish roots, colcannon is a mix of cooked cabbage and, usually, mashed potatoes. The recipe for a baked potato is the first I’ve seen, but I figure I can get them stuffed and ready to go in the morning and reheat before dinner. Not sure yet when I’ll roast the carrots. My hot plate/toaster oven kitchen is a major problem with menus like this, because I can only cook one thing at a time. If both the hot plate and the toaster oven are on simultaneously, the circuit breaker for the entire cottage goes. And I can’t get out there to fix it. Cooking will be a nice Sunday project, with time out for church on the internet.

Looking back instead of ahead, this was a week of renewing ties. On Tuesday, Melinda, who was production manager when I was at TCU Press, came for lunch. I fixed a chicken casserole that I really love (see yesterday’s Gourmet on a Hot Plate blog) and we had a good visit, catching up on family news. But publishing gets in your system I guess, because we talked a lot about books we’d worked on, people we’d worked with, and the press itself.

Then Thursday a friend of some forty or more years came for lunch and brought both the new man in her life and the lunch. Both were delightful. I’m sure Dave Wasserman was a bit bored when Linda and I caught up on old friends and family, but he was most gracious. And when we got off on other subjects, I thorough enjoyed talking to him. Linda moved to Taos a year or so ago, and, as I pointed out, is not a good communicator, so I go too long without hearing from her. Dave is said to be a better communicator, so I suggested he and I exchange emails and he could catch me up on Linda’s doings.

Old friends are truly treasures—so much life we have shared. I am big on communicating—I keep saying friendships are like gardens: they need constant tending. So I’m grateful, for instance for Martha and Dick in Omaha who I haven’t seen for several years but who I hear from almost weekly. Or Barbara, my high school BFF who follows my blog, occasionally comments and emails from Mississippi. So many whose friendship I valued have dropped away because of distance, and I miss them. Someone once said, when someone disappears from your life, that means their part in your story is over. In a very few cases, that’s a relief; in many more, it makes me sad.

Happy weekend everyone—and happy Spring Break. Stay safe.