Surviving

 

Helen Corbitt cooking
Photo from the Texas History Portal

Feeling a little foolish about it, but I have to brag I survived the appointment at the ophthalmologist’s office. Bottom line is that nothing about my eyes has changed since the last visit. Surgery would probably make my vision a bit better, but there are risks, minimal, but still. Having had one “rare” eye disorder that required surgery, I am not willing to go there again. But the survival aspect is because I get really really nervous going to the eye doctor. As I’ve said, I feel like I’m failing an exam I should have studied for during the eye test. Today I had a kind, encouraging tech who kept saying, “Very good.” I thought I was acing it and was a bit deflated when the doctor said it showed no change from last year. The appointment was not quite as long as I anticipated—just under an hour and a half, which was good because Christian had to get me home, pick up Jordan, and get her to a noon hair appointment. It all worked perfectly. My only moment of losing it was leaving the office with my eyes dilated and the sunshine so bright—I suddenly felt like my knees wouldn’t hold up, so Christian obligingly pushed me the maybe six feet to the car. So glad that’s behind me. Now if I can just get past tomorrow’s dental appointment.

We had planned to celebrate Mary D.’s b’day a bit late tonight with a hot dog dinner—she loves hot dogs, and her husband, sweet Joe, doesn’t eat them. But Joe’s usual tennis night cancelled, and he came with her for happy hour. So we postponed the hot dog dinner for a week and served happy hour fare—Jordan brought roses and pink champagne and watermelon, and I whipped up a ham spread, which I thought was pretty good. So did Mary and Joe, but Jordan doesn’t do ham. Joe declared he enjoyed the evening, but poor guy, I’m not sure how. Much of it was about cooking and food.

Mary hosts demonstration cooking shows for the Silver Frogs, a senior community group from TCU, and she has arranged to do two sections on Helen Corbitt. She will cook, and I will fill in with facts and stories about Corbitt. (If you don’t know, Helen Corbitt was the doyenne of food service at Neiman Marcus stores in the late fifties and the sixties, but there was much more to her career, both before and after Neiman’s; a New York native, she literally transformed the Texas palate). So tonight we talked recipes—Texas caviar, which is one of her signature dishes; chicken broth, popovers, and strawberry butter, which is still served today to every dining guest at Neiman’s (I think only two Neiman Marcus restaurants survive—in Dallas and Fort Worth). Corbett was known for her extravagant use of butter, cream, and sugar—and then her spartan menus at the Greenhouse spa. Most of us don’t want to go the Greenhouse route, but we probably want to adjust a lot of her recipes to today’s standards.

Big political night, but I have turned off the TV late at night. Really, the primary results, with a few exceptions, don’t tell me much. I want to see what happens when progressive candidates go up against MAGA extremists (okay, loaded language on my part). I am glad Colin Allread won the nod to be the Democratic candidate for Texas Senator and hope to heaven he can get Ted Cruz out of our hair. Tonight, I am already weary of “Breaking News!” messages telling me Biden and Trump swept their primaries. That was a given, not breaking news, but it shows how hungry the media is for punch with their news. Tomorrow we’ll get a more sober reassessment of what both statewide and national results mean.

The political cause that engages my mind tonight is the Supreme Court and the obvious corruption, particularly from Justice Clarence Thomas. That he doesn’t recuse himself from cases dealing with Trump is inexcusable in light of his wife’s involvement in the January 6 insurrection. And I read an article today that pointed out that the relationship between Georgia’s Fani Willis and the prosecutor she hired is getting all sorts of attention while the Thomas’ relationship is getting none. Media bias is still a real thing.

Ah well, we won’t solve all that tonight. Sweet dreams.

Good food and bad service

Ceviche on a tostada

We had some good food experiences over the weekend. Christian went yesterday morning to the Hot Box Biscuit Club downtown and brought home biscuits with sausage gravy. Heated again, it was super, rich and creamy gravy, the biscuit fluffy and soft, the sausage just spicy enough,

Breakfast was quickly followed by lunch—homemade scallop ceviche from a neighbor, tangy with lots of lime. We were told to serve it on a tostada shell, which we need. Jordan ate two helpings and got herself the recipe, said she could eat it once a week. It was a treat for me because so often ceviche has shrimp in it, and I am allergic to shrimp—sob!

Pot roast ready to simmer dall day

And last night Christian served us roast and potatoes. He had started the meat in the crock pot early in the day and let in simmer in a rich sauce. Tonight, Jordan is off to spend the night with a girlfriend at her lake house, leaving with the assurance that “the boys” will take care of me. They did indeed, both Christian and Jacob coming out for happy hour on the patio. Christian and I lingered until seven-thirty, when he brought me another hot biscuit and sausage gravy for supper. Tomorrow, enough leftover roast for a sandwich. Jordan meantime is enjoying happy hour in an idyllic setting.

My rant for the day is aimed at ATT, notorious for poor customer service. I spent at least an hour on the phone today, talked to four “service representatives,” made a payment, and still ended with a balance due, which means I have to go through it all again to sort out the balance due.

Jordan had tried twice to pay my cell phone bill,  sone of the chores she took over when I had surgery and was in rehab and has just kept doing. But ATT declined the card. Turns out that part was our fault—I had to get a new card, and she forgot to change the online stored information. It took two representatives to sort that out. The online screen showed a $346 balance; the automated voice that answers the phone and two reps assured me it was $207. I wanted to pay over the phone since the card had been rejected, I didn’t want to go through the automated system. That recorded voice warned me there would be a $5 charge. I protested that and the second rep processed the payment—up to a point. Then something happened to the phone—I could hear the rep, but he couldn’t hear me. No choice, I hit end.

So I had to start all over again, but with a hitch. I had to make sure that first payment hadn’t gone through. Finally I was assured that it had not, but once again it took two reps to make the payment.

And after all that, I still had a balance with the alarming word: overdue. So tonight, I’ll get a class of wine and try one more time. ATT apparently doesn’t have a chat service, which I guess is okay because that is often a frustrating experience too.

Part of my frustration is dealing with representatives in faraway places with heavily accented English. I grow weary of saying, “Slow down. I’m 81 years old and hard of hearing.” They slow down momentarily and then pick up speed again. I admit to impatience—and a bit of rudeness creeps in. I was apologetic, and twice today the reps assured me there was no problem, they understood. Since I am usually Pollyanna-polite, it upsets me that my manners slip.

And a final gratitude for the day—to the Supreme Court, which passed a landmark decision protecting the work life of gay and transgender people and let stand California’s sanctuary laws, despite claims from the trump administration. Some days things just seem to be working out for the good guys.

Jordan's happy hour at the lake