A day of trivia—and one big thing

 

So nice to wake up to sunshine this morning. No rain forecast until sometime next week. Everybody seemed to like the better weather--the yard guys came, having been delayed for two days by the rain, and Sophie stayed outside much of the day. The only glitch came when Jean came for happy hour. I put together a cheese tray with the Hunter cheese and Port Salut I bought at Central Market yesterday and the herbed goat cheese spread I made. Jean carried everything out on the patio but soon had to carry it back in. There were flies everywhere! I had little covers on the wine glasses, and we put a sheet of wax paper over the cheeses, but it was hugely ineffective. So we ended up inside. I do hope this is not the end of patio weather, though I admit it was pretty steamy out there this evening. The humidity is still high, even if it has stopped raining.

When I turned on my computer this morning, the first thing I saw was Richard Rohr’s meditation for the day: “Clearly, what this world absolutely needs is more love.” Anyone else hearing the Beatles in your head? There’s your earworm for the day. Speaking of earworms, the other day I woke up with “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” repeating in my mind. I have no idea why, but I, who these days can only do the first verse from memory in church, could clearly remember all the verses. My childhood must have been coming back to me.

More trivia: my new word for the day: collocation. I was writing my once-a-month column for Lone Star Literary Lifestyle and found myself writing about a woman who calls herself an authorpreneur. She referred to a collocation, so I looked it up—being able to do that at the computer is such a blessing to me—and found it means the repeated use of two words cobbled together to make one word. This woman used the collocation because she is an author and a publisher—the indie imprint under which she publishes her books is Black Mare Books. (She once had a black mare mustang.) Well, shoot, my imprint for indie published mysteries is Alter Ego Press. I just never thought of calling myself an authorpreneur, but now I am grateful for the word.

On Wednesdays, in a small online writers’ group, my tradition is to ask where everyone’s bookmark is. Of course, I have to start off with my own, and this week I had a rather weak explanation that I hadn’t settled on a book for over a week but had been toe-dipping in several. I forgot to explain that I picked up a Scottish mystery solely because the housekeeper in a castle is the amateur female detective. Her name is Alice MacBain—my mom’s name, even spelled the same way. The clan is usually McBean, but my dad changed his spelling to what he thought was more authentic. The book unfortunately was a spoof that didn’t quite come off—a closed room murder in a castle, and all the family members were snobs. I didn’t get very far.

I also tried Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential, figuring that a foodie like me should read some Bourdain and that title is probably his classic. He has an incredibly sensual way of describing food—like his first encounter, as a young boy, with a raw oyster. But as one critic said of his writing, “It’s too masculine.” There was all that testosterone fueling the dialog. It quickly became too much for me, too in-your-face. I know that will not sit well with Bourdain’s many fans, and I truly recognize that he earned his place as an icon in today’s world of chefs. I just don’t want to read about it.

So now I’m going to explore Killing in a Koi Pond, by Jessica Fletcher and Terrie  Moran. Terrie is a friend, recently anointed the latest collaborator on the long-running series, and I’m anxious to see how she handles stepping into those very big shoes. And I really want to cheer for her. And then, I want to read While Justice Sleeps, by Stacey Abrams. I wanted to see if she does as well at writing mystery as she does in getting out the vote.

But the big excitement for me today was a haircut. I’d been thinking about this for some time, and when Rosa came this morning for our appointment, I told her we needed to talk. She knew instantly what I wanted to talk about, and we reminisced about the days when I had short hair and lamented my present shagginess. Next thing I knew I had a new, short haircut. I admit I didn’t look in the mirror for some time after she left, but when I did, I was pleased. Rosa has been doing my hair for over seventeen years, and she’s pretty tuned to what I want and need. And she long ago told me when I couldn’t come to her, she would come to me. I am so blessed.

Sweet dreams, everyone. Dream of sunny skies for a few days.

 

 

The downside of a rainy day, some encouraging news, and advice from Jesus

Rainy, chilly, damp and dark in North Texas today, and frankly I was bored. I find that a whiney admission on my part, some sort of lack of character, but nothing engaged me, and time dragged. I am doing photo research but was stymied—one curator is out of the office for an indeterminate time, as in months, and not a single other soul can help me; another was just out today, so I suppose I can call her Monday; and a third office is only open Monday through Thursday. I suppose photo research is not considered urgent, but when it’s what’s next on your plate, such lack of response is frustrating. I have emailed a couple of archives twice with no response.

And I finished the cozy mystery, Nobody’s Sweetheart Now, that I was much enjoying. I always hate to finish a book when I’ve gotten absorbed in the story and its world. I didn’t expect to like this one so well—a British cozy set on an estate in the 1920s, very Agatha Christie-like with the houseguests at a Saturday-to-Monday the suspects in the murder. But the hostess, recently widowed Adelaide Compton, is charming, sly and witty behind the naïve and overly kind façade the world sees. And when her late husband, a terrible philanderer, reappears in ghostly form, she thinks she is losing her mind. A standard cast of characters, including the dullard nobleman who wants to marry her, but then. .. there’s the handsome inspector of British and Indian descent, so good looking, so…. well, read and find out. It’s all good fun.

One of my new year’s resolutions was to share more positive posts on Facebook, and I’ve been pleased to share several on environmental subjects. From schools in the jungles of Brazil to roads in India made from discarded plastic and from high sales of electric cars in Norway to desert lands reclaimed by using ancient farming methods, it seems to me the world is light years ahead of America, the so-called strongest nation in the world, on saving our physical world. While our government allows pollution of rivers and the use of poisonous pesticide with nary a thought to the consequences, much of the world seems to understand climate change and the desperate need to change our ways. Some days it’s enough to start me fantasizing about moving, though I’m too old for that.

And then there’s this word about Biblical commandments. You have my permission to throw it in the face of the next rigid, righteous Christian you meet. In his daily meditation yesterday, Richard Rohr, a monk well known for his theological writing, pointed out that there are 613 clear commandments in the Bible (do you think he counted them?), but Jesus reduced them to two: Love they God, and love they neighbor as thyself. See? You don’t have to worry about abortion and LGBTQ and other people’s marriages and marijuana and any of those things that send some off into a tizzy. Why did Mike Pence, that walking uptight bundle of repressed emotions, rush into my mind when I read that? I read today he predicts legalized abortion will disappear in this country soon. Talk about rigid ways. But back to Jesus’ two commands, just think if we all, Christian or not, followed those two commandments, what a great world it would be.

Here’s a link to Rohr’s complete meditation for the day. I read his work daily and find it inspiring, pushing me in a direction I need and want to go.

Which reminds me of a joyful note: Tarrant County Republicans voted NOT to unseat the duly elected co-chair because of his Muslim religion. Can you imagine? It should never have been an issue at all, but at least good sense won out. He can worship his God, I can worship mine, and we both can love our neighbors. Great hope for the world.

Tomorrow I plan to avoid boredom. I’ll do a grocery run, make a batch of spaghetti sauce, and think some more about the vague idea for a mystery that is batting around in my mind.