This and that around the cottage

 

Sophie and neighbor Greg Smith
enjoying the last of patio weather

We are enjoying the last of patio weather. My Canadian daughter and her husband came by the other night because, as she said, she knew cooler weather was coming and she didn’t know how they’d be able to see me once it was too cool for the patio. We have made full use of the relative safety of outdoor entertaining (in tiny bunches) during quarantine. Cooler weather will present a problem. The low table on the patio actually is a fire pit with a wooden, removable top—but with a fire pit, you toast one side and freeze the other. Not conducive to prolonged, casual visits. Christian has seen some outdoor heaters with reflective back panels at Costco and says he’ll come home with one soon. Meantime this evening we are expecting two sets of neighbors.

I keep finding appetizer recipes that intrigue me—like one with anchovies parsley, and mayo—but we have not yet gotten back to chip and dip type dishes. When Jordan does that for friends, she provides individual small spoons—a lot of trouble.

We had an uninvited guest the other night, though we are still puzzled by identity. On Saturday morning, Jordan noticed one of the plants sitting on the deck was nearly destroyed, something had taken out a swatch of the pettas that line the front of the deck, and that same something dug a hole in the deconstructed granite that covers a small strip close to the house where nothing will grow. I suspect either a possum or a coon, but we are puzzled. The yard is fenced, gate closed—if there’s a gap large enough for a coon or possum to get in, that gap is large enough for Sophie to get out (Jordan’s dogs are not inclined to wander and, in truth, Soph is less interested these days—she seems to have decided she should stay put where she has a good thing).

But do possums climb fences? Coons? It’s a four-foot hurricane fence. I presume the critter came in close to the point of its destruction, which would be by the gate, but I always check the gate morning and evening. And to reach that inner gate, they’d need access to the driveway—a six-foot fence and an electric driveway gate. I can imagine a raccoon digging and being destructive, but do possums do that too? We have had possums even traveling along the high wires at the back of the property—hmm, guess that answers my question about them climbing. I work so hard to make folks believe possums are our friends, I’d hate to be disappointed.

Cleaning house is not one of my skills, and now that I need the walker, it is beyond me. We had a lovely woman who came every two weeks ever since I’ve been out here, but we’ve stopped that because of COVID. So Saturday she was to come for only the second professional cleaning since last March—bless Jordan who has been doing what’s needed all along. I was going to pack up my computer and work in the main house while she was here, and yes, I was excited. You know that old joke about cleaning the house so the cleaning lady can come? That’s what we did, though I left dishes in the sink because I knew she’d wash them, clothes on the bed because I knew she put them in the laundry, garbage to be carried out. She called in sick with allergies. I cannot tell you how disappointed I am. I so looked forward to that smell of a house that’s just been thoroughly cleaned.

Last weekend with exquisitely poor timing, I made a pot of chili for Sunday supper. It was in the nineties—hardly chili weather. Today on what promises to be the last really hot day, I have made chicken soup. I need to coordinate with the weather forecasters.  I have the patio door open to enjoy the lovely day, and I don’t look forward to keeping it closed. I’ve been coaching Sophie—always in the fall, she forgets she knows how to go in and out if I leave the door open just a crack. She can paw it open to go out, though when she forgets she flings herself against it in frustration, thereby closing it securely.

Guess we all have some adaptation to cooler weather on our horizons. I’d keep it Spring and Fall all day long, with daylight savings time, if I could.

Back in the world

I’m back! I have a computer—a new Lenovo, a new remote keyboard, and a large remote screen. I’m in business again and so glad to be!

Several years ago, I had a TIA (mini-stroke) and ended in the emergency room. The doctors mistakenly said I didn’t have a TIA (later demonstrated by MRI) but was in what they called a state of altered consciousness. I’m not certain what medical textbook they got that out of, but the phrase certainly describes how I felt this past week. Without a computer, I was useless and didn’t know what to do with myself. I felt isolated from the world, though I tried to keep up on my cell phone and iPad. But I can’t type fast or accurately on those gadgets, so it was a losing game.

Worst of all I had projects and deadlines that required a computer. My online class on creating a fictional chef began last Thursday with me missing in action; on Saturday I was on a Zoom panel for the Boerne (TX) Book Festival—managed that on Christian’s computer. A calendar note popped up reminding me I had a deadline for a guest post about Saving Irene—I did a rough draft on Christian’s computer. Jordan was a magician and set me up on that with my email account and Word program. Wonder of wonders, when I opened Word on the new computer, that file was there. The internet world continues to amaze me.

This morning, in addition to going to church online I played catch up—answered emails, apologized to some for my absence and failure to congratulate on some good news, thanked my youngest son who spent three hours last evening setting all this up. I wouldn’t have had the faintest idea where to begin. I have been working on a computer since they first came into common use—probably the late eighties. Remember those ancient slow machines with two big floppy disks? One for the program and one for the document you were working on? So give me thirty-plus years, and I’m still techy challenged. I think it’s less me than the fact that technology changes so rapidly. And I’m glad it does—today’s streamlined computers are such an improvement. And in a year, my new one will already be dated!

The grocery list was a big frustration of my week of isolation. I keep a running list on my computer—with items for both households, at least for our dinners. Thursday Jordan had to go to the store with a list reconstructed from memory and as we planned meals for this week, she kept a list by hand. I’m pleased to say we got most of what was on last week’s list, and I’ll send a new order to Central Market tonight.

I had a grand time on the book festival panel, talking with authors Sarah Bird (Daughter of a Daughter of a Queen) and Elizabeth Wetmore (Valentine) about strong Texas women. My first Zoom panel so I was a little intimidated, but I found I felt quite at ease—more so than when appearing onstage in person—and plenty to contribute to the discussion. A wonderful hour. Thanks to Caren Creech of the Patrick Hearth Public Library for putting the program together—and most of the festival, I think. We got good response online from people who had watched it. Zoom is going to be a good thing for me, enabling me to attend meetings that, if they were held in person, I couldn’t make. So this Thursday I’m going to “zoom attend” the meeting of the Tarrant County Historical Society.

In the category of it’s always something, a critter—probably rat or squirrel—has died under the kitchen of the main house, and the odor is apparently unbearable. So in a sudden reverse, Christian is not fixing us supper—who wants to cook in a kitchen that smells that foul? So I’ve fixed chicken pot pie—my own recipe and one of the few things I cook that Jacob really likes. I caught him once scraping up the last of the sauce with a strawberry.

I am certainly looking forward to this week as a change from last. Cheers, everyone!

 

 

 

Gone to the movies

I did it! I went to the movies. The friends I went with, knowing my usual avoidance of film, asked when the last time I saw a movie was, and I replied that I think it was Julie and Julia. That was 2009, so that makes it ten years.

Of course, today was no average movie in a commercial theater. We went to see Raisin’ Hell: The Life and Times of Molly Ivins, showing at the Modern Art Museum. I’m not a judge of movies (obviously), but I enjoyed this. Lots of laughs, yes, for Molly’s legendary wit could pierce the thickest political armor. But there was so much more to this film—a serious statement about democracy and our responsibilities as citizens. As she constantly reminded us, publicly elected officials work for us, not the other way around. I wondered also if the film wasn’t about a woman who, surrounded by friends all her life, was essentially lonely. She grew up in conflict with a father who told her she wasn’t the beautiful sister and was constantly angry at her.

Lots of people familiar to Texans—and a few outliers—appeared as narrators in vignettes, from Ann Richards to Ann Lamott (the latter a surprise—I never guessed a connection between them). A couple of people I’d met over the years and many more who were familiar from the liberal wing of Texas politics—Ronnie Dugger, Dave McNeeley, Kaye Northcott, Lou Dubose, Cecile Richards, Jim Hightower, along with friends and classmates of Molly, past and present. These vignettes gave continuity to the film and made it not only the story of her life but saved it from being a pastiche of one-liners. Cinematography was beautiful and some scenes could make you fall in love with Texas all over again. An enriching afternoon.

Of course a 2:00 p.m. show time was right when I usually nap, so I came home and had a late nap. Sophie did not like that at all—after what she deemed long enough, she began noisily to drop her chew toy on the wood floor. Then she jumped up on the bed, peered at me, and pretended to settle down. But she lay next to me and kept nudging me, gently but still nudging. When that didn’t work, she came back to check my face and gave me a gentle lick, soon followed by more vigorous licking. I gave up.

Trivia for the day: thanks to a Facebook friend for enlarging my vocabulary. Do you know what a snollygoster is? A politician who uses his or her office for personal gain rather than the public good. If the shoe fits….and so on. What a wonderful word!

I have new friends in my bathroom. Last night a tiny gecko was running around in the shower and then moved to one wall. If I could have been sure I could do it without hurting him, I would have moved him outside. As it is, I left him untouched and just watched him in admiration. I hope he finds a crack and makes his way outside. I’m less happy about the tiny black spider who has staked out the wall next to the commode as his territory. I well know that spiders don’t have to be big to bite and their bite can be painful. But, Schweizer-like, I don’t want to squish the little fellow, so I keep a wary eye on him. His cousin was on the toilet seat one day, and when I tried gently to brush him off, he fell in and presumably drowned. No funeral was held.

Another week coming up. Make it a good one, my friends.