A lovely memory and lazy leftovers

 

Would you believe I wrote this blog, went to save it, and lost it? The post was mostly inspired by this picture that popped up on my computer this morning. Now I consider it a challenge to see how much I can recover from memory. Here goes: fifteen years ago, my grands were dedicated at my home church, University Christian in Fort Worth. We had the ceremony in the chapel, not before the congregation, because not all of my children belong to this church. The picture was taken right afterward. Maddie the oldest, is holding Kegan, the youngest. Kegan was then all of three weeks old. Jacob, to my left, was intrigued by this thing called a baby and desperate to get at it. I had my arm firmly around him. To Maddie’s left, Sawyer and Eden seem oblivious to whatever was going on. In my lap is Ford, who was about eight months old and had a dump in his diaper—I handed him to his mom as soon as the picture was done. To my right is Morgan who kept creeping away as though she wanted to pretend she had never seen any of us. They are all now grown or well on the way there. Maddie is twenty-three, Kegan fifteen, and they are all still wonderful. After this ceremony, we had a porch party, of course—a brunch buffet. Such good memories.

I decided today that the day after a party is meant for slow moving. It didn’t help my focus or ambition that Zenaida was here cleaning the cottage, and I could be easily distracted by talking to her. I kept up with emails, read some political articles online, wrote just a bit, and piddled, this afternoon spending a lot of time looking for a recipe I’ve lost and never did find.

It was also a leftover day. Yesterday, despite the party looming in the evening, I had a lunch of leftover salmon, marinated cucumber, guacamole, and some squash and sweet onion I’d sauteed—the squash/onion combination is my new summer favorite. I consider it a blessing when I open my fridge and see leftovers. My neighbor, one of seven children , refuses to eat leftovers because he had too many as a child. I think that's sad.

Today my lunch was a sandwich with the salmon spread I made for last night’s party—it is the best stuff, surely one of my favorite recipes, equally good on crackers or in a sandwich. Tonight, while the family ate brats I had more salmon, this time with lemon and mayonnaise, and Jordan’s good blue cheese salad. I figure tomorrow I’ll have salmon for lunch and serve the spread at happy hour. And then the salmon will have seen its day. But Wednesday, when I’m home alone for supper, I’ll probably put some canned salmon with pasta for a one-dish meal. Thank goodness, it’s good for you.

Christian is a genius at saving orchids to rebloom, and this picture shows one once given to me. When it had seen its day, I turned it over to Christian. He recently sent it back to the cottage, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one with so many full, large blooms that lasted so long. The dog in front is Shea, done by my pal Jean’s late husband, Jim Clark. It’s a treasure.

This promises to be an interesting week of news, what with the national furor over guns and the televised sessions of the House of Representatives Special Committee to investigate the January 6 insurrection. I am geared up to follow all of it. I have strong feelings, as you may have suspected, and I’ll probably rant in this space before the week is over.

Meantime, tonight I plan to go to bed early and wake in the morning full of energy and rarin’ to go. Maybe you should too.

The amaryllis story continues—and a bit of cabin fever

 

My amaryllis today
on my messy desk

My amaryllis is glorious today and a great source of cheer during this snap of winter in Texas, although today was sunny and bright. Subie’s amaryllis story is not so happy, although I understand she has a second plant. Jordan and I gave her one for Christmas (she is hard because her birthday is just before Christmas, and I am sometimes stretched to choose two imaginative gifts). So we saw amaryllis on sale in November, and I thought it was perfect for one or the other of those occasions.

Subie's amaryllis

Recently she told me when she opened it, it had already bloomed—in the box. There were stubs at the stalk where the blooms had been and died. I was embarrassed to say the least, but she saw the bright side—the plant was growing a new plant. She plans to leave it in the pot and see what it does. I’ve never heard of one doing that before.

And on the subject of plants, the orchid Subie brought me went into the house today to what I consider Christian’s orchid hospital. He has a remarkable record of getting them to bloom a second and third time. This one had a lovely striated cream-colored petal with a dark purple center. The thing is I sometimes have to remind him that a certain plant that is reblooming needs to come back to the cottage. The main house has two west-facing greenhouse windows in the kitchen, and orchids love it there.

Cabin fever got me yesterday. These are the things I did not do: write my daily quota on my work-in-progress; get dressed; make my bed; cook my supper; do my exercises. These are the things I did do: spent the day in the clothes I slept in (Jordan would frown); took a long nap; reheated frozen leftovers for my supper; spent way too much time on Facebook; started reading a new mystery, the eighteenth Coffee House Mystery by the husband/wife team who write as Cleo Coyle. (Reading for an author can always be justified as continuing education.)

Today is a much better day. As twilight sets in, I have gotten dressed and made my bed, fixed a good lunch, and planned dinner for all of us—we’re still quarantining, so we’ll transport part of it from cottage to the house. I’ve written a bit more than my thousand words for the day and am writing my blog earlier than usual, and I’ve put away clean linen and done some other household chores, including watering my plants.

The world outside this evening reminds me of Chicago or Missouri—the snow is melting, so what’s left is dirty, gray, sparse. My patio looks like a swamp, awash with dirty water. But because we are north-facing my front steps are still iced, and there’s a patch of ice on the driveway and snow outside my desk window. My mom used to complain long and loud about the gray snow in Chicago, because when I was young so many households, including ours, heated with coal. And it’s true—clean white snow was dirty gray almost as soon as it fell.

I remember the same when I was in school in northeast Missouri. I was in a relatively small town, Kirksville (12,000 population not counting students at the two colleges in town). Most people heated with coal, and snow stayed on the ground forever. They don’t call that northeast corner of the state an icebox for no reason. I remember getting up morning after morning and seeing a dirty gray world. And I drove a VW bug which didn’t fit the ruts in the roads, so getting to and from school and work was an adventure. I really longed for spring. The nice thing about Texas (except last year) is that we are pretty sure the snow will disappear in a day or two.

A friend said to me today she doesn’t understand how I can stay in the cottage day after day, because she was stir-crazy being in for two days. I think one reason is that, with my walker and because I no longer drive, getting out is a bit more complicated. And when Covid was new and a much bigger threat, I got used to staying in. In fact, I kind of liked it, and most days I still do. I have lots to do and a comfortable pattern to my days. When it’s six and I pour myself a glass of wine, I think, “Well, there goes another day.” That’s a bit of a mixed bag, because at my age I don’t want to wish the days away, but on the other hand it’s good to come to the end of a day and feel satisfied about it. Can you tell I’m feeling a bit defensive?

Monday and not much to tell but a good book

An orchid, blooming for the second time

It loves my sunny cottage

Monday and not much to report. Mondays are always kind of low-key for me. I seem to spend most of the day on small things—emails, marketing details (still recovering from all the nice coverage yesterday), and the like.

Dinner tonight with friend Carol at a local “upscale” (does that mean not Tex-Mex?) Mexican restaurant. I had brisket tacos that were really good and cautiously ate just a few bites of the black beans. I love them, but they don’t love me. Carol is just back from almost two weeks in Hawaii, so it was fun to hear about that and the hulu dancing competition they went to. She brought me a T-shirt that says, “At my age I need glasses”—and has pictures of several wine glasses. The remarkable thing about the sort of purple/maroon shirt is that it is wine-dyed. Carol advised, and I agree, washing it separately the first time. She said she didn’t know why wine-related things always made her think of me, and I said it did: it’s because I like wine.

Finished a good book tonight: A Reckoning in the Back Country, by Terry Shames. Terry’s series features an overage sheriff in Texas—everything your typical mystery hero is not. He’s wise, morally complex, an art collector, an animal lover. In short, a fascinating character. He tells his stories in first-person, present tense—a challenge to any author. And he does it with such sly wit and insight that you can’t help but be drawn in. This one is the seventh in the series, but I suggest you begin with any of them.

And that is my story for the day, other than that the weather surprised me. I thought it might get to the seventies, and all of a sudden, it was in the eighties. Good ole Texas!

Have a good night and a happy Tuesday.

Of children and dogs

Yesterday, Jacob and his mother got separated in a store where they'd gone to buy valentines. He panicked, thinking he'd lost her. Jordan assured him she would never ever leave without him, and they are going to discuss again asking a salesperson for help. My heart was filled with sympathy for the poor child...until I remembered the day I left Jamie in the grocery store. As I drove away I glanced in the rear view mirror, only to see him madly chasing my car. In retrospect it reminds me of those horrible stories about dogs being thrown out of cars and desperately chasing those cars. Jamie apparently survived unscathed, though if he sees this he'll tell me, "I'm suing."
Another time I had my four plus a neighbor child in the drugstore. As I walked out I realized I only had four children and should have five. As I turned to go retrieve the missing child, I bumped into a woman. Excusing myself, I said, "I've lost a child." She patted me on the arm and said, "Don't worry, honey. You have enough." Wish I had digital pictures of those wonderful days.
The other day I saw a beautiful picture of a dog on Facebook with a sentiment to the effect that we should never trust a person who doesn't like a dog, but always trust a dog who doesn't like a person. I'm not sure Sophie is hat discriminating--she seems to love everyone. But she grows into a better dog every day. Sure, she has her moments of high frenzy over guests, but she calms down quickly. And, yes, she can be demanding when he wants to play fetch, but she deserves those minutes of my time. At night when she knows I'm headed for bed, she lies on her bed and waits for me to come give her a tummy rub. Today, she was playing with her toys for Jordan and me while we had a Valentine happy hour in the living room. Jordan caught this picture of her looking at me and titled it, "Yes, Momma."
She follows me everywhere around the house, knows the signs when I'm dressing to go out. If she doesn't want to go outside, she runs as fast as she can in the other direction when I get out the leash. When I went out to pick up scattered toys (boy and dog) this afternoon, she peeked out the door but wouldn't venture out--she did not want to be in the back yard if I was in the house. The picture above was taken by a friend--shows how badly she needs a haircut but also shows her sweet face and is a demonstration of how effective b&w photography can be.
So nice to be without snow, ice, slipper roads and walkways. Today it was sunny and beautiful, in the low sixties. Makes everyone want to be outside, and the traffic was heavy when I did errands this morning. I guess others felt the same way. My daffodils have grown so much in a week. And here's the orchid Jordan got me.
Life is good. Hope everyone had a happy St. Valentine's Day