Time Out

 

Sophie was mad at both Christian and me over
the small matter of flea medication. So she
was very glad to see her best friend, Jean.

Do you ever just take a day off? No, I don’t mean a day off from your job. I mean a day off from your life. Yesterday morning, I decided to cancel the world for the day. I didn’t feel sick, but I felt awful—exhausted, no ambition, not hungry, didn’t’ know what I wanted, but sleep sounded good. So about eleven-thirty I crawled back in bed and slept for an hour and a half. When I woke, I ate a piece of toast, cancelled the German potato salad dinner I had promised to cook for Christian and the friend who was coming for happy hour. I went back to bed and slept the afternoon away. Dinner was two scrambled eggs—and even that sat uneasily on my stomach—and I went to sleep early for me, about ten. Slept ten hours, if you don’t count getting up twice with Sophie and a couple of times for the bathroom. This morning, I had my groove back—hungry, ready to work, looking forward to cooking dinner tonight.

What happened to me? I think that old word, stress, covers it. I had about decided that the book I’m working on, which is projected to come in at 75,000 words would probably be 20,000 at best and that’s a stretch. The back of my legs hurt because I’d leather-burned them and taken a top layer of skin off during the extreme heat—so much for shorts when you have a leather seat on your walker and your desk chair. And, most of all, the world around me made me tired.

Do you read Heather Cox Richardson’s almost-daily column, “Letter from an American?” If you don’t read it, I highly recommend it. When I looked at last night’s column this morning, her words jumped at me: she wrote that it’s been a difficult week and called it “freaking exhausting.” And then she signed off. That was it for me. “Freaking exhausting.” Yesterday, was the first I read about the probable decision of the rogue SCOTUS in the fall which will hand control of elections to the states. I read a complicated article that projected that such a decision effectively threw out the popular vote, handed the choice of electors over to state legislatures, and rigged the election for the Republicans. Today I read a fantastical projection on that scenario that forecast riots in the street with rogue militia groups shooting protesting citizens, thousands of our citizens dead, and the president (projected to be DeSantis if the law goes into effect) declaring an emergency and ending all elections. Fantasy? Hopefully so but remember (most of you are probably not old enough) how fantastical George Orwell’s 1984 seemed when it was published in 1949. And much of it has now come true.

I am truly scared beyond belief. Someone has to do something about this out-of-control court which breaks precedence with every decision. Their decisions go against popular opinion, but I don’t know that it’s written anywhere that they must listen to the people. But it is established that precedent dictates the law of our land. And they are flouting it.

Beyond that, if I can get beyond it, today was a good day. I worked on the book but without the sense of urgency I’d felt all week. I’ll take it bit by bit—and some days those bits come hard—and see what happens. Only when I’ve exhausted all the notes I have and the new research I can do, will I begin to worry about the length. Maybe I can add a whole lot of pictures.

Tonight Jean came for supper, and Christian joined us for happy hour. Wide-ranging conversation about many topics including Christian’s experiences as a child model and TV actor, politics, and I don’t know what all. He elected to go to the movies with a friend and so didn’t stay for supper. If he had, I’d have fixed the potato salad I didn’t fix last night, but Jean and I had green shakshuka—poached eggs on a base of spinach flavored with onions and garlic and topped with queso fresco, avocado, and cilantro. Served with squeezable limes. So good, even if we did get the eggs a little harder than either of us wanted. Traditional shakshuka poaches eggs on a seasoned tomato base, but the green is a lovely alternative. Jean chided me when she looked at the recipe because I left out the jalapeno. I always do.

And here’s my nostalgic look back at Jacob’s young years. I am quite sure he was heartily singing, “Who Let the Dogs Out?” because we sang that over and over until I thought I would scream. The rest of the family thought it was hysterical, but I was weary. Today it’s a memory I treasure.

Post-vacation exhaustion—and an announcement

Why is it that when you come back from a vacation in which you’ve done nothing but relax, even a brief vacation, you’re exhausted. Last night after three days of reading, sleeping, and being waited on hand and foot, I was exhausted when we got home. I took two naps before I went to bed—slept soundly each time and again all night. If you’d asked me to do anything that required a brain, I’d have declined. I had no ambition for the tasks that waited on my desk.

Today my tiredness is of a better-earned variety. I’ve put in a hard day’s work. Spent most of the morning trying to master Instagram and a graphic design program called Book Brush. The promotion says you can design an ad or announcement on Book Brush in a minute and a half. Took me two hours, but I did finally come up with an Instagram post that shows the cover of Irene and an Amazon logo—don’t ask for a buy link. That’s beyond me at this stage of the game. And the big problem is that I can’t figure out how to get it from Book Brush to Instagram.

In fact, I can’t figure out how to post anything on Instagram. Jacob came out to help me but began with the words, “I have no idea what I’m doing.” He does Instagram on his phone, and it’s a completely different program than the computer version. I guess most people do it on their phone, but this is one time I’ll plead the age card. My fingers are too clumsy to do much but punch in a phone number or text the simplest of messages. Instagram would be a waste on my phone. So I’m stymied, but if I take the long view, I figure I’ve made great progress in the last couple of days that I’ve worked on this. It will, like all computer programs, eventually become second nature. I take comfort in the fact that Jacob is completely baffled by Facebook, which I can hop, skip, and jump around. It’s an age difference thing.

But that’s my big announcement: Saving Irene is now available for advance orders on Kindle Direct Publishing. If you belong to Kindle Unlimited, it’s free but comes with a plea from me—please read all the pages. It will go live on September 16 on Kindle and other platforms. Meanwhile, here’s the Amazon link: https://www.amazon.com/Saving-Irene-Culinary-Judy-Alter-ebook/dp/B08GXB8KP6/ref=sr_1_1?crid=39HNEDP7XFTY5&dchild=1&keywords=saving+irene+by+judy+alter&qid=1598918748&s=books&sprefix=SAving+Irene%2Cstripbooks%2C217&sr=1-1

To add to my exhaustion of the day, I’m fixing chicken hash and salad for the family for supper. It involves more steps than I remembered: cook the chicken, cook the potatoes, chop onion, celery, garlic; make chicken broth from Better Than Bouillon. And cook it in stages—onion, then add celery and garlic, then potatoes, chicken, broth, and heavy cream. I remember it as very good; hope my memory isn’t fooling me.

Meanwhile, the Burtons have gone to Coppell to deliver a birthday cake. It’s Christian’s father’s 80^th—a landmark birthday. They were to celebrate yesterday, but all summer the family has been gathering in the driveway, masked and distanced. Yesterday was deemed too hot for that, and Christian’s father wisely did not want all his seven children and grandchildren to come in the house. He had, he said, worked so hard to keep them safe from the virus, he didn’t want to risk it. I am cheering for him, knowing how hard it is to forego hugs from children and grandchildren, especially on a special occasion.

Just got a message they’re on their way, so I guess I better put that hash in the skillet.

The Great Couch Caper

 

The couch--in progress

When my children were all here in January for rodeo, we came to a collective decision: I do not need a playroom any more. The grandchildren are all--sob!--too old. I need a "hang out" room. Accordingly, after much web searching, debates, etc. Jamie ordered a 45 inch TV--back-ordered--and a LoveSac sectional couch. Six sections.
It arrived this week in 18 boxes, some of which had an oh-so-appropriate puzzle piece on the box. The first shipment was six large heavy boxes which I found sitting on the porch--apparently the Fed Ex guy didn't ring the doorbell, etc. I was napping but didn't even hear Sophie throw a fit--and she always does that. I managed to get three or four in the house by turning them end for end and then once they were inside, sliding them--which involved picking each up enough to get it started sliding on the rug. Neighbors Jay and Susan arrived to help bring the rest in and open one to look at what we had. Gray cushions, base, etc.--I had ordered beige, but this was an okay color--a little dull, but okay. Jordan arrived, and we did a tandem operation--I opened the cartons (carefully) and she moved them to the former playroom, now to be called the sunroom because it is all windows and has the most delightful light.
By that evening there were five adults (including me), four dogs, and Jacob helping to assemble the couch. We got it into a rough position and quit. I ordered hamburgers.
The next day 12 boxes arrived. Fortunately I caught the Fed Ex man as he was delivering, and he cheerfully brought them all inside for me. I opened four square smaller boxes and found slipcovers--the beige I'd ordered in a nice durable, washable fabric. Put those carefully aside, because each bag is labeled as to what part it fits. The other eight boxes were big and unwieldy. I opened four and gave up. Christian arrived, unboxed them all and carried them into the sunroom. I defrosted frozen spaghetti sauce (homemade and very good, if I do say so). Meanwhile all the empty boxes are stacked in my dining room. Christian said, "I hope you're not having a dinner party soon." Words of encouragement.

This morning, Jordan looked at what remains to be done and said, "Let's take a vacation." But by this afternoon, she suggested I cook supper tomorrow and they work on the couch. Jay said he'd come over on the weekend if he had help. It will get done, and it will be wonderful--I know it will. Meantime I'm exhausted.
Wonder if I could order BBQ for tomorrow night?