Learning to like my own company

 

My "on your own" dinner tonight
a loin lamb chop and asparagus with a sour cream/lemon/crumb topping
Yes, I know, white wine with red meat,
but that's what I like.

The Burtons are home tonight, after spending several days at Lost Pines, a resort down near Bastrop where they can lounge by the pool (sounds so boring to me), Jacob can golf and fish. They do this every August as a family vacation, always taking along a neighborhood buddy for Jacob.

For quite a few years—fifteen or more—I lived alone, although Jordan periodically returned until she married. Still, essentially, I was alone and used to it. But five years ago when I first moved into the cottage and was frail after several health problems, including a major surgery, I quickly got used to not living alone. So the first year they went to Lost Pines, I was almost aghast: They’re leaving me alone? I orchestrated a tight schedule of people to visit me or take me to dinner or do anything to keep me from being afraid of being alone.

This year was totally different. Yes, I planned a schedule, but it pretty much fell apart—my Friday night dinner companion (we were going to Lucile’s) was exposed to Covid and went into quarantine, and my Saturday night company suddenly found she would be out of town Saturday night. Only then she wasn’t, and she came over on Friday night when neighbors also walked down for happy hour. And of course there was dinner at the Drover and before that a visit from my Canadian daughter and her husband. So I had plenty of company, except Saturday night and that was just fine.

But I learned several things. One is that when they go on vacation, I somehow think I am on vacation too. I sleep later, nap longer, and generally take it easier. So one morning I slept until eight-thirty, which is pretty unheard of for me, and I wouldn’t have gotten up then but Sophie was pretty insistent, and my conscience pricked me—there’s something about staying in bed too late that conflicts with my work-ethic upbringing. Still, I tell myself I can sleep late even if they are all in the house and getting ready for the day.

Another lesson I learned is one I’ve known a long time: when they are gone, I cook the things they won’t eat. I actually didn’t do as much of that as I thought this week. I stuffed a large zucchini one night with a tuna/cheddar/crumb mixture of my own invention. It was really good and fed me one night and two lunches. I was out to dinner that one night and had leftovers the next day for lunch. Friday night I fixed the Great Outdoors-style sandwich that Jordan and I are loving—and so is Jacob. Saturday night I made a lifelong favorite—salmon croquettes—and had cucumber salad and avocado salad with it. The cucumber salad is a recipe I found for “refrigerator pickles” but when I read it I thought that’s marinated cucumber, not pickles. (The cucumber is sliced, as are the onions—my mom kept a version of that in the fridge all summer, but this had a bit of sugar to soften it).

Now home and heading into a new school/work year, Jordan is going on a rather strict eating regimen which cuts out a lot of the things I like to eat. Having done so well eating on my own, I decided I will cook for the family when they want things I can agree on, but there may be more nights I want to cook for myself. Like cube steak with onion soup gravy or fish tacos with lime/cilantro crema. Or scrambled eggs with corn, goat cheese, and tomatoes—does that not sound wonderful?

So tonight, we batted out a week’s menu—we will only dine together three or four nights, and on the menu are flank steak, baked fish filets, and a roasted soy chicken—an old recipe of mine that I remember fondly. One night my niece is coming with her two daughters, and I’ll make finger sandwiches, but Jordan will eat with Christian because she can’t have the bread in the sandwiches. Not that Christian couldn't have the sandwiches, but just that I'm sure he will opt out.

But I digress from the lessons I learned. The biggest one was that I like my own company. I was just fine Saturday when I woke up knowing I would not see another human all day—after all, I had Sophie for company, didn’t I? I actually looked forward to the day—wrote on my work-in-progress, read a novel, fixed my salmon patties. A good day. And now I know I can do that again. No, I don’t want to go a week without human companionship, but a day or two is just fine. So I guess the lesson is that I am going to be a bit more independent now. Swell, just when we are looking at having to semi-quarantine and mask up again!

Stay safe everyone.

Listen to the silence

This year, the theme of Advent services at my church is “Be still.” It means we must clear our minds and be fully prepared to accept the meaning of Christmas: hope, joy, peace and love. Somehow today that message, read a few days ago in our church newsletter, spoke to me particularly today.

I am one who loves people around me. Although I value my days at home alone at work, I really long to be in the world. That’s the reason I have lunch and dinner with friends so often. I feed on people. And as you may have gathered, even though I live alone, my house is often like Grand Central Station. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Today Jordan was here (Jacob was propped up in my bed with the iPad) and three good friends, people I truly treasure, came for happy hour. One had a special reason to celebrate—a new job—and the other two were working through grief over loss of a family member and frantically (well, she was, not he) trying to catch up with holiday chores and plans. They will all be together Christmas Eve while I am with my family.

But today, as is often the case, they were loud in conversation. I turned my hearing aids down a notch but still didn’t hear all of it—and if I wanted to talk to the girls, the guys were talking over me. Suddenly, they all left for dinner appointments and other plans, and there I still sat in my living room. Savoring the silence. Sophie came to be petted, and we sat together for a long time.

Mindfulness is a catch phrase these days, and yet tonight I realized that staying home alone—as I will much of this weekend—is not enough. It takes mindful stillness to prepare us for the gift of Advent, the gift of God’s love for us. In the next few days I plan to practice mindful stillness, preparing myself, appreciating God’s glory to us.

I pray for each of you to experience moments of silence, stillness that draw you beyond yourself.

Introvert, extrovert--what are you?

I've been following a thread on Sisters in Crime about whether being a writer makes you more of an introvert...or maybe you write because you're an introvert. There an endless circle there, but a friend said to me that extroverts feed off people while introverts feed off themselves and quiet.
Like most people, I think I'm a bit of both, but there are days I think I may be in danger of becoming a recluse. Then there are weeks like this one--I had breakfast, lunch, and dinner out Tuesday, lunch and dinner Wednesday, and lunch today. Tomorrow and Saturday I'll be out for dinner, and Sunday I'll have company for supper. So, yes, a big part of me is an extrovert, and I know if I spend two days home alone I best look for some kind of human contact on that third day.
I will say that, for me, having a dog helps with aloneness. I carry on conversations with Sophie, and sometimes she "talks" back to me--I just wish I knew what she was saying. A friend said yesterday, "I don't speak dog," and I answered, "But don't you wish you did?" He's one of Sophie's absolute favorite people, and her intonation when she talks to him is amazing.
But wait, I'm digressing from people to dogs. I find more and more that I decline invitations, especially to large social events, because it sounds better to stay at home with my computer or a book. And there are days when I just can't wait to get to my desk, boot up the computer, and be a writer--not necessarily by writing but by checking email, Facebook, etc. A lot of ancillary stuff goes with being a writer.
Some days that rush to my desk is fueled by an aching back, although it's getting better, and I'm being fairly faithful about my yoga. But today I carried in groceries--four trips to the car--put away the cold and frozen things, and rushed to my computer. Got involved, and when I got up to meet a friend for lunch, I was astounded to see I hadn't put away the rest of the groceries. Not like me, because I'm fairly compulsive.
I'm grateful for the people who are in my house frequently, especially daughter Jordan and grandson Jacob, but I also relish the quiet of being home alone. Sometimes I get tons done and other times I fritter away the time. Sometimes weekends loom large and long and empty...but then they go by so quickly I wonder where they went.
I'm not sure my inclinations toward being an introvert have anything to do with writing, though I've traded some on being "liter'y" in other ways--as an excuse to be a little different, like not dress for success in a business suit when I was working. But that's another story.