Parties and birthdays and oh the fun!

Today is a happy birthday for the oldest of my boy grandchildren—Sawyer Hudgeons (if I could remember all four of his names, I’d use them). My Austin hard-rock kid is thirteen today. Sawyer definitely marches to his own drummer….er, guitar. He’s been going to the Austin School of Rock for at least two years now, and shows real talent both on the guitar and singing, performs easily and happily. Besides that, he’s a happy, sweet boy. I can hardly believe it’s thirteen years since we all rushed to Austin to celebrate his arrival.

And today was Jacob’s belated—adult—party. In truth, Jordan used his birthday as the occasion for her first big party in my house. The house has a happy party record and over the last twenty-five years has been the scene of cocktail parties, baby showers, humongous birthday celebrations, and most of all—tree trimming parties. In recent years, they’ve been strictly no-tree tree-trimming parties, but they were as full of laughter and love and food and wine as ever.

Jordan once again showed herself the mistress of party giving. Tonight was potluck, with some really good contributions. Jordan and Christian provided beer and wine—we’re stocked for months to come—along with meatballs. And a sheet cake. Everyone gathered round to sing happy birthday to Jacob, and I looked at the people—a happy mix of people of all ages. Two of Jordan’s friends who are special to me brought significant others I’d not met before and was glad to meet tonight, though they need to come back when it’s a little quieter and we can visit. One of those longtime friends, David, has been like family since he was fifteen. As he left the cottage tonight he said, “Tell the blog world hello for me.” So there you have his greetings.

Some people drifted out to the cottage, and I had a separate party there but went inside for the cake-cutting. Lots of fun. Now there’s a group on the patio outside my door, and I’ll join them in a few minutes.

A bit of trivia: I wrote Jacob a note and gave it to him this morning--long, funny story but my point here is that he handed me the note and said, "I can't read cursive, Juju." I had to read it to him. I am horrified--and a bit angry--that this child completed fifth grade without reading cursive. I vaguely remember they studied it, maybe third grade, and practiced but apparently not long enough nor hard enough. How will he function in the world? How will he sign a check. Someone pointed out to me that today they don't sign checks. Cursive is irrelevant, but I read somewhere learning cursive fine tunes the brain, just as music does. I'm on the prowl for workbooks with the Palmer method.

And an odd new imaginative exercise: designing niche literature courses. For some reason last night, in that twilight between sleep and full wakefulness, I was designing a lit course around the theme of old men. I decided to start with King Lear and include Tuesdays with Morrie. Didn’t get much further, but the idea has great possibilities. Is it an indication I want to teach again? No way. I love my retirement life and my writing life.

Live and Learn—a Cooking Failure

A dismal morning made it hard for me to get going. I was sluggish. No rain, and as the day slowly brightened, so did I.

I’m still in lost in Ruth Reichl’s My Kitchen Year. Her description of a grilled cheese sandwich and how to do it is sublime, so I tried today at lunch. You butter the bread, grate the cheese and pile it on as thick as you can. Spread a thin layer of mayo on the outside of the sandwich to prevent scorching and press more grated cheese into the bread. In theory, that will give a crisp crust. I worried about keeping that grated cheese on the bread while I flipped.

Turned out that was the least of my worries. I settled the first side in the pan easily, but the cheese stuck to the pan, not the sandwich, and when I tried to take it up, I came away with a soggy sandwich and the crisp cheese crust remained in the pan. Flipping it did no good—now I had two soggy sides. The cheese did form that crisp crust in the pan, but I had to scrape it up and eat separately. I’m quite sure this is not what Reichl intended, and I have tweeted to ask for directions. Should you cook at high heat or low (I did low, envisioning a long, slow browning). Should you put oil or butter in the pan? I put olive oil, but maybe that was wrong.

Grilled cheese is always problematical to me. It’s like the little girl with the curl: when it is good, it’s so very good, and when it’s bad, it’s horrid. I too often burn the bread before the cheese melts. At least now I’ll always grate the cheese—makes it melt faster and better.

I tried to recover my cooking skills by making a layered salad for the Jacob adult birthday Jordan is having tomorrow night. Layered salads require a lot of chopping—eggs, tomatoes, lettuce, green onions, cutting up bacon, etc. While I chopped and cut, I kept thinking how much Ruth Reichl enjoys that part of cooking and wishing I enjoyed it half as much. The salad was a big problem in terms of a container too—I discovered the glass dish I’ve always used has gone to some child’s house, and I had no appropriate dish. Friend Subie finally came up with one that although not glass will work. And tonight Betty said of course she has a trifle dish! Aarghh!

Betty and I took Jacob out to dinner tonight while his parents went to some event connected to Christian’s work. Jacob declared he wasn’t hungry, picked at his mac and cheese, but ordered two root beers and left the second sitting on the table. Conspicuous consumption! Betty and I split miso salmon on a bed of spicy vinaigrette noodles—absolutely delicious.

So now I’m home, settled, and anticipating the first big party to be held in the house since we made the big move. I used to host parties a lot, particularly at Christmas when I had a no-tree tree-trimming party. When December came around last year, none of us had the energy or the will—it was a low point for me. So now I’m delighted to anticipate a party in the house and yard. Jordan has worked hard getting it all perfect.

To my hot-blooded friends who couldn’t sit outside: I sat on the patio tonight for a long time and loved it. Just perfect.

My dancing shoes

These are my dancing shoes--well, not really. They're a pair of Inkka hightops that I told Jamie I wanted for Christmas and since we won't all be together this Christmas, he gave them to me early. I asked Jordan today if I could wear them, with black leggings and a really cool black top plus my squash blossom to a spiffy cocktail party tonight, and she said, "Go for it!" So I did.
First thing when I walked in, the hostess (who I have literally known all her life), said, "I love your shoes!" And in a few minutes someone behind me said, "Those shoes really make a statement." After that, my shoes were the talk of the evening, and the ham in me came out--I loved it. I even told people I wore the squash blossom to pick up the turquoise in the shoes. I do have to confess that I'm learning to tie shoes all over again--almost walked out of them in the grocery today. But tonight I felt camp, trendy, whatever. And since it was a party where I knew few people, the shoes were a wonderful conversation starter.
I realized today I have a split personality. It was a wet, sometimes rainy, chilly day, and a part of me kept saying what a nice night it would be for a book by the fire. I felt the same way before I went to a dinner party Wednesday night. A small part of me could easily become reclusive, spending all my time at home. In fact, recently I said to a friend that I spent a lot of time at home, and she replied, "Yes, but you bring people to you."
I can't count on that, however, and I always enjoy events when I get myself in gear and go out--I loved the dinner party a few nights ago, and I had a great time tonight. I recognize that the tendency toward being a recluse is neither healthy nor, in the long run, enjoyable. I need people in my life, and if I sat home and expected them to come to me, there are a whole lot of people that I really like but would never see.
Tonight, I saw a former neighbor, now married to the mother of one of Jordan's school chums, and I met new people. I'm learning to be so bold as to slip into the conversation the fact that I'm an author. The woman who'd first commented on my shoes said her husband was writing, and we had a bit of talk about that--as much as I could hear over the music.
It was a lovely evening with spectacular food, and I'm so glad I went. Thanks to friends who took me under their wing so I didn't have to go alone. Tomorrow is a breakfast party and guess what? I'm going to wear my dancing shoes!

A woof, woof birthday

One thing I have to say about the Alters is we know how to celebrate. Tonight it was a birthday party for the dogs--Jacob's two Cavalier King Charles Spaniels and Sophie (whose third b'day was in May). This picture is Jacob, his dad, and their two dogs. Jordan did the majority of the work of putting this party together, and about fifteen people gathered--old folks on the deck, young 'uns on the lawn. I did two appetizers, but Jordan did the bulk of the work, all of the organizing. We had bean dip, corn dip, Reuben dip, veggies and hummus, classic onion soup dip, and brownies. What was billed as a five o'clock happy hour lasted until ten--not unusual around my house.
The dogs were funny. Sophie is always enthusiastic, ready to play with any creature that happens into her territory--plus all those adults who adore her. She was in heaven. June Bug and Cricket were not so sure--they are quiet, a little uncertain about this slightly bigger dog who rushes at them, and a bit timid in the crowd. June Bug found a nest on a towel next to the ice bucket, and Cricket eventually parked herself next to her leash in the living room, as though a signal she was ready to go. Sophie meanwhile went from person to person, and was extremely jealous when Jordan or Christian picked up one of their girls. The world, according to Sophie, should revolve around her.
I thought tonight, as I often do, how fortunate I am to be surrounded by people of all ages who seem to love me and like my company. But I also decided I maybe can't do big parties ever again without Jordan--and this wasn't that big. Whatever, it was fun, and both Sophie and I are tuckered. She hasn't even eaten her dinner and shows no interest.