Really, it only seems like winter

 

Our new Chinese Pistache tree
They tell us the stakes must remain for a year and a half

You’d think a kid from Chicago would find temperatures in the fifties balmy. And a little rain? Pfft—nothing to bother about. But it’s not true. I’ve been a Texan for over fifty-five years, and my blood has thinned. Tonight, I’m huddled in the cottage, whining about the cold wet chill. Even Sophie didn’t want to stay outside as long as usual. And for happy hour, when Mary came to visit, we had our first fire of the evening. Okay. It was in my tabletop artificial fireplace, but it added atmosphere.

My fireplace

And just before the rain hit this morning, we finally got our new tree, a Chinese Pistache, planted. I expected a professional crew; we got one man who worked alone but was most knowledgeable about trees and trimmed out all the dead on one in our back yard in addition to planting the new one. Yesterday’s confusion was due to one digit off on a phone number. When I called, polite but firm, I was told they’d tried to call me all weekend and couldn’t leave a message because my mailbox was full. I held firm, told them I had no record of attempted calls and my mailbox is never full. Turned out to be the mistaken phone number.

At happy hour Mary and Jordan both vented about their bad days—Mary with plumbing problems and Jordan who spent well over an hour looking for her lost keys. Tonight, she stood by my desk, talking about those keys, when she suddenly said, “I think they’re under your toaster oven.” And they were. When we came home this morning, she unlocked the door and threw the keys on the counter where they slid under the oven.

In contrast, I had a good day despite having to go for blood work, a trip I had come to dread after I was in the hospital and had to go every other week. Now, it’s been three months and didn’t seem so arduous. I am also fortunate and suffering no after-effects from my booster shot yesterday. Even the injection site is barely tender, and only twinges me occasionally.

Leftovers are so good!

Tonight, Jordan and I had girls’ dinner in the cottage. Christian was feeling punk from the booster, and Jacob was asleep, so we got the leftovers of last night’s Norwegian hamburgers and a salad. Such a good meal.

Rainy days are generally unremarkable. Life seems to go on at a quieter pace, with nothing interesting to report. I am still seeing praise for Gary Patterson who apparently showed up for work Monday morning because he had promised to help with the transition and he had the plans he had made for Saturday’s game against Baylor (I am not sure at this point how the Baylor fan in our house feels about that game). But, to me, that attitude speaks volumes: Patterson is a class act. I’ve also read reports about how he put his players’ education first—standing outside a classroom door at eight o’clock to make sure one or the other was in class, and calling to wake them if they overslept. I think what he taught those kids, beyond football, was integrity.

Voting reports trickling in are not making me jump for joy There are some Democratic victories—mayors of good-sized cities—but the turnout in Virginia is low, and that’s always a bad sign for Democrats. With the revelations that have come out in recent days about the organized effort, led by trump, to overthrow our government, I cannot fathom why anyone votes for any of his appointed candidates. But then, there is apparently a crowd in Dealey Plaza in Dallas waiting for the return of John F Kennedy, Jr.—yep, he who died in 1998—because they believe he is not dead, will return, will serve as vice-president under trump after the 2024 election, and then will be president. No one has apparently reminded them that Kennedys are Democrats. The number of people who believe such outlandish things is frightening, as is the number who still believe Biden stole the election. MY belief? Trump is certifiably mentally unbalanced and should be in an institution, though I’d love to see him serve the prison time he deserves for treason. Back in the day, I think we shot or hung traitors. He’s walking a thin line.

Supposed to stop raining mid-day tomorrow, so maybe the world will brighten up. Sweet dreams, y’all.

 

Yellow mums for cheer, a booster for good health, and a big disappointment

 

These yellow mums line the deck of the main house, which means they are what I see when I look out the window from my desk. And as I said in a recent post, yellow flowers cheer me. You can see why when John, the lawn guy, was ready to replace them with pansies, I said “No, not yet. I haven’t enjoyed the mums long enough.” The truth is that the mums were full and healthy and very green with only tiny dots of yellow for a long time. I worried, although a friend told me I didn’t want them to bloom early. So I waited. In the last couple of weeks, they have come into their own, and I’m going to keep them  until a frost kills them. Then it will be time to talk about pansies.

Kind of a mixed bag today. Jordan, Christian, and I got our booster shots, but it turned out to be a long, involved process. One night recently, they met a pharmacist who said she’d give us the shots—she is manager at a WalMart pharmacy on Sycamore School Road, which is, ahem, not close to us. As we wound through the South Side on McCart, which is endless, I kept to myself the thought that we could have gone to the local Albertson’s just as easily. Turned out I would be glad we made the trip. Besides, it was fun for me to be out in the car. I said if anyone asked me what I did today, I’d say I took a trip in the country.

We finally came to a WalMart on McCart, just beyond Sycamore School Road. Went in, waited in line for a while—only to find out that we were at the wrong WalMart. Back to the car, more driving, with Christian giving directions which at one point took us in the wrong direction. By now, we really were in stretches of open land. Finally, the right WalMart, one of the small Neighborhood Stores, clean and not crowded.

It may have been a smaller store, but it was a darn long walk to the pharmacy, and with am N95 mask on, I lose my breath more easily. In retrospect, even though I never fear needles, I think I also had a little pre-shot anxiety. Anyway, poor Christian had to push me part of the way. (I did much better walking out.) Then we filled out endless paperwork and finally got into the immunization room—it had never occurred to me the would have a private room for giving shots—and Erica, Jordan’s newfound friend, gave us our shots. From now on, I want Erica to give me any shot I have. I barely knew she had done it. And, knock on wood, no sore arm tonight, although Jordan says hers is a bit sore.

This second pharmacy was close to the Chisholm Trail Parkway, so we zipped right on home—after a two-hour adventure. Just to keep things interesting, Jordan thought she had lost her wallet, but it turned out to be at home.

Tonight, the place where I bought our new tree, to replace the hundred-year-old elm we lost, was to install our Chinese Pistache. I had long discussions with them, explained this was the only night Christian could be home to discuss where they could plant it etc. We had the utility check done. And they’re a no-show. We’re frustrated. And guess who gets a firm phone call from me tomorrow.

I guess the Gary Patterson fiasco is still on people’s minds, though not as much as I’d expected. A sportswriter for the Star-Telegram, Mac Engel, had a couple of opinion pieces in the paper this morning that did not put TCU in a favorable light and then a piece saying AD Jeremiah Donati has the make-or-break career decision of hiring a new coach. I thought he’d already dimmed his career by forcing Patterson to resign. One Facebook commenter pointed out that Patterson always recognized that his players were students first and foremost, which I think is important.

But something nobody has mentioned in discussing the three-year losing streak: for two of those years, we were in pandemic (still are though for now numbers are looking better). Has any considered that, since we lost so many people from the work force, pandemic might also have narrowed the field of eligible recruits? Some due to illness, some due to family worry, some reluctant to start college life on a campus that was almost all remote classes? All of us were affected one way or another, so why not college football players? Not making excuses for Patterson, who surely needs none from me, but that's my thought for the day.