Munching my way through the weekend

Sixth grad cotillion boys

Trouble times ten

Note the cute kid far left front row

I know I’ve been behind in blogging. Friends from Nebraska even wrote to gently prod me this afternoon. Truth is, though I could come up with several excuses, when I look back at the last two or three days, my memories are of food. I have been eating high on that proverbial hog.

Friday, Megan was here for the day, and we three—my two daughters and I—went early to Central Market to avoid the crowd. The girls insisted on the wheelchair, because with my one eye temporarily out of commission, I have a depth perception problem. They were afraid to let me drive a cart for fear I’d go careening into things. Central Market is always a treat for me, and we came away laden with goodies, including wonderful chocolate bars.

Friday afternoon Megan met some college sorority sisters for lunch, and they all went to visitation for a good friend’s father. When she came home, she wanted to drive around and see the changes. Mostly we drove the TCU neighborhood and campus and discovered a whole host of buildings I didn’t know existed, especially in the Greek area. We also saw the rows and rows of attached condos that line streets once home to modest one-story houses. I know it’s efficient housing in a college area, but it makes me sad to see the whole character of a neighborhood so changed.

Friday night we went to Chadra for supper. I had the buffet, because it had lamb on it. Jordan piled my plate so high, in anticipation of taking some home, that when Nahme, the owner, saw it, he immediately said, “We don’t give take-out boxes anymore.” He visited at length, and we all had lots of laughs. It was good to be out in the world.

Saturday night, Christian grilled steaks for Jordan, two friends of theirs that I am close to, and me. He has a knack of getting my steak just as rare as I like it. Delicious! With mashed potatoes and salad. Stayed up too late being sociable to blog. Today, he sent out the little bit of steak I left on my plate, plus two other pieces. I thought that would be lunch at least today and tomorrow, but I ate the whole thing today.

Tonight I’m cooking carnitas for tacos. Jordan’s friends are coming back for Superbowl, although we’re not big football fans. This recipe is interesting. I’ve done it before when you cook cubed pork butt in water until the water evaporates and the pork crisps. It’s much tastier than it sounds. But I found a recipe that calls for a lot of seasoning, including orange peel and cinnamon sticks, in the water. Only it’s not cooking off as fast as I’d like. Hope we get to eat supper before the game is over.

My eye is healing, though it’s hard to tell progress. I guess that’s another reason I haven’t blogged. But I’ve gotten back to business today and done some editing, and I have a desk full of work to begin the week. I’m gradually putting the surgery behind me and getting on with my life, but I’ll be happier when I can see better and when the eye doesn’t look so awful. Patience is not my strong suit.

Hope everyone had a good weekend.

Rodeo, Memories, and a Lesson in Aging

Tonight is rodeo night at 6^th grade Cotillion, and Jacob and his friends dressed appropriately. I don’t know why Jacob doesn’t have a hat, but praise the Lord his new boots arrived just in time this afternoon.

Jacob’s actually gotten himself in a spot of trouble, but I’ve promised not to blog about it. Still it got me thinking about childhood and discipline, and maybe because it’s rodeo time, I thought about me and horses. Growing up on Chicago’s South Side, the only horse I saw regularly was an old one that, when I was very young, pulled a milk wagon down the alley behind our house. I have a vague memory of a man and a horse who looked much alike—old and grey, but the man was very pleasant and cheerful as he left glass bottles of milk in the icebox (literally) on our back porch.

Someone, maybe even me, decided it would be good if I took horseback riding lessons. I was maybe about twelve. We rode English style around an arena in a barn, horses nose to tail they were so crowded. I did all right at it, until some transgression made my mother decree that I would miss two or three of my lessons. I truly don’t remember what I did, but it must have been awful because such severe punishment was not like my mom. When I finally went back to the stables, I was terrified of the horses, and to this day I am uncomfortable around them.

The memory makes me think how important it is to be judicious and loving in disciplining children. They are frail young minds, easily damaged, and I am convinced discipline must come with lots of love and an understanding of why it is being meted out, how it can be avoided another time. I read the stories about the California couple and their thirteen abused children with horror. Today I read they used food to control those starving children. How can anyone be so cruel?

I had an unpleasant lesson in aging today, one I think I’ve had before and apparently refuse to learn. Lovely lunch with Jordan, the woman from the bank who has helped me so much with financing the cottage and such, and a mutual friend. We met at Pappadeaux, early to avoid the rodeo crowd. At first, I could hear the entire conversation, but as the restaurant grew more crowded, I was barely able to follow the thread. Jordan and I split the wonderful Greek salad for one, and I ordered fried oysters, since I can’t eat shrimp. I mentioned the shrimp allergy to the waiter, and oh my, were they on top of it. He asked if he had to redo the accompaniments platter for the salad, since one lonely shrimp was touching the tomatoes. I told him to give the shrimp to Jordan and it would be fine. Then a manager type came to make sure I understand oysters were fried in the same grease as shrimp, and I thanked him but assured him it would be okay. It’s an ingestion allergy, not contact.

But the fried oysters did me in. I felt dull and loggy and just unwell all afternoon, even with a nice nap. Tonight I can’t bear the thought of food, even that leftover spaghetti in the fridge. I had a single small piece of cinnamon toast for dinner. Once again, I’m swearing off heavy fried foods. When will I ever learn?

Happy weekend, everyone.

Life’s Milestones and Other Matters

A milestone in Jacob’s life tonight: his first Cotillion. I’m not sure he recognized the significance and I hear it was “great” from his mom, but I am waiting for a full report. All week he groused about going but above he looks pretty happy or pleased with his new clothes. His aunt, uncles, and mom went to Cotillion. Colin hated it, used every excuse to sneak out early, etc. There as some problem about making sure Megan was included—I don’t remember what and she did go but it was another instance when I was inept as a mother (when we went to Santa Fe and they wanted to ski, I had no idea how to make that work—the kids had to figure out about renting skis, ,etc.). But if all her friends were going to Cotillion, there was no way Megan was going to miss it. Jamie was in his element at Cotillion and came home one night referring to himself as the “party animal.”

Jacob’s buddies were also all going tonight so I’ll be curious to hear if they banded together or circulated nicely. Do you suppose Jacob will dance with me?

I went to the hospital for pre-op pre-admission today. They have all this down to a science and sometimes ask the most minute questions—very thorough. But it’s a smooth process. We saw an admissions clerk and two nurses and were at the hospital an hour and a half.  So far the personnel we’ve met have all been extremely friendly and helpful. The hospital is new—it was privately built, went into bankruptcy and was bought by Teas Health; if I understand orrectly it is an orthopedic hospital. It’s all open and sleek and thoroughly modern but with clearly Texan touches—one area was partitioned off by a panel of upright untreated tree branches bound together, like fences you see around jacals in South Texas. I’m not anxious to have this surgery, but Clearfork seems a good place for it. I feel I’ll be comfortable and in caring hands.

Tonight an old friend came for supper—my idea of entertaining is sending her to pick up sandwiches at a local upscale bakery. We both had croissants with turkey, goat cheese and vinaigrette. Good and really filling. We topped them off with huge chocolate chip cookies. Nancy and I have known each other over forty-five years although we lost touch for many of those years. Today, the nice thing when we get together is that we don’t dwell on our past lives (both married to physicians) but talk about our lives, our city, and our kids today. We both have rich and full lives, and I much appreciate that we don’t dwell on the past.

A long, lazy weekend stretches ahead of me, after a week that has been filled with doctor and hospital visits. I hope to make real progress on my novel—and to do some pleasure reading. Looking forward to it. My life is neither busy nor hectic, so it strikes me as funny that I am glad for a lazy weekend.