Really, it only seems like winter

 

Our new Chinese Pistache tree
They tell us the stakes must remain for a year and a half

You’d think a kid from Chicago would find temperatures in the fifties balmy. And a little rain? Pfft—nothing to bother about. But it’s not true. I’ve been a Texan for over fifty-five years, and my blood has thinned. Tonight, I’m huddled in the cottage, whining about the cold wet chill. Even Sophie didn’t want to stay outside as long as usual. And for happy hour, when Mary came to visit, we had our first fire of the evening. Okay. It was in my tabletop artificial fireplace, but it added atmosphere.

My fireplace

And just before the rain hit this morning, we finally got our new tree, a Chinese Pistache, planted. I expected a professional crew; we got one man who worked alone but was most knowledgeable about trees and trimmed out all the dead on one in our back yard in addition to planting the new one. Yesterday’s confusion was due to one digit off on a phone number. When I called, polite but firm, I was told they’d tried to call me all weekend and couldn’t leave a message because my mailbox was full. I held firm, told them I had no record of attempted calls and my mailbox is never full. Turned out to be the mistaken phone number.

At happy hour Mary and Jordan both vented about their bad days—Mary with plumbing problems and Jordan who spent well over an hour looking for her lost keys. Tonight, she stood by my desk, talking about those keys, when she suddenly said, “I think they’re under your toaster oven.” And they were. When we came home this morning, she unlocked the door and threw the keys on the counter where they slid under the oven.

In contrast, I had a good day despite having to go for blood work, a trip I had come to dread after I was in the hospital and had to go every other week. Now, it’s been three months and didn’t seem so arduous. I am also fortunate and suffering no after-effects from my booster shot yesterday. Even the injection site is barely tender, and only twinges me occasionally.

Leftovers are so good!

Tonight, Jordan and I had girls’ dinner in the cottage. Christian was feeling punk from the booster, and Jacob was asleep, so we got the leftovers of last night’s Norwegian hamburgers and a salad. Such a good meal.

Rainy days are generally unremarkable. Life seems to go on at a quieter pace, with nothing interesting to report. I am still seeing praise for Gary Patterson who apparently showed up for work Monday morning because he had promised to help with the transition and he had the plans he had made for Saturday’s game against Baylor (I am not sure at this point how the Baylor fan in our house feels about that game). But, to me, that attitude speaks volumes: Patterson is a class act. I’ve also read reports about how he put his players’ education first—standing outside a classroom door at eight o’clock to make sure one or the other was in class, and calling to wake them if they overslept. I think what he taught those kids, beyond football, was integrity.

Voting reports trickling in are not making me jump for joy There are some Democratic victories—mayors of good-sized cities—but the turnout in Virginia is low, and that’s always a bad sign for Democrats. With the revelations that have come out in recent days about the organized effort, led by trump, to overthrow our government, I cannot fathom why anyone votes for any of his appointed candidates. But then, there is apparently a crowd in Dealey Plaza in Dallas waiting for the return of John F Kennedy, Jr.—yep, he who died in 1998—because they believe he is not dead, will return, will serve as vice-president under trump after the 2024 election, and then will be president. No one has apparently reminded them that Kennedys are Democrats. The number of people who believe such outlandish things is frightening, as is the number who still believe Biden stole the election. MY belief? Trump is certifiably mentally unbalanced and should be in an institution, though I’d love to see him serve the prison time he deserves for treason. Back in the day, I think we shot or hung traitors. He’s walking a thin line.

Supposed to stop raining mid-day tomorrow, so maybe the world will brighten up. Sweet dreams, y’all.

 

Rain, cold, and cozy

 

Lovely morning today—thunder woke me, followed quickly by the gentle paw of a very nervous dog. I just buried into the covers and dozed, listening to the thunder and rain. Sophie lay next to me, as though mere proximity to me would protect her. When I got up, she followed right at my heels to bathroom and kitchen. When I opened the door to give her a chance to go out, she hung back and looked at me resentfully. When I settled at my desk, I looked out at a world as dark as though it were evening. Sophie may cower, but I love such a morning. I love being cozy inside and watching a storm.

The rain and thunder eventually went away but the temperature continued a downward slide. It’s in the fifties now and predicted to go to the mid-forties tonight, a huge change from yesterday eighties. I may have to turn on my fireplace. The one regret I have about my cottage is that it doesn’t have a fireplace, but there simply is not room for it. Every square inch of space is put to good use. Jamie met the need by getting me a desktop electric fireplace—it’s a miniature version of those TV screens you see that show a fire. Mine has a remote monitor. Jamie envisioned it on my desk, but that too is crowded—it looks great on a side table by the couch.

It’s definitely soup weather. Tomorrow I’ll make freezer soup again. I’ve collected several small icebox dishes of odds and ends. I think the soup will be more beef than chicken, given the nature of my leftovers. I know there is a good-sized container of beef gravy from my ill-fated experiment with short ribs. Two short ribs also, but I’m not sure I’ll fix them.

It’s been a week of leftovers, broken one night when Christian made Mongolian beef, served with rice, and tiny vegetables—broccoli, carrots, etc. We sometimes get so carried away with recipes we’ve found that we have to call a halt to new cooking and eat what we have. Tonight I’ve fished out the one salmon patty I knew was buried on a freezer shelf and will cook the green beans Jordan brought home. I’m the only one in our little compound who eats fresh green beans—go figure, but they all like canned better!

I’ve had a busy week—produced a 28-page monthly neighborhood newsletter, which effectively takes three days of my time. In between I’ve been proofing the pages of a reprint of my 1990s historical novel about Jessie Benton Frémont. I finished it but realized that somewhere about page 100 I hit my proofreading groove, so now I’m going back to review that first 100 pages. But my Kindle is calling—I have downloaded samples of four or five books I want to try. Ever buy a book you’re sure you’ll love—and realize twenty pages in you didn’t want to read it? Kindle’s sample program lets you try the prose, the style, get to know the characters. Another problem I have in bookstores—I buy a book, get it home, and realize I’ve already read it! If you order a book from Amazon that you’ve already read, they tell you that you already own that book. I sometime feel guilty about my heavy use of Amazon, because I’m a big advocate of the independent bookstore. But I can’t get past the convenience, especially for me as almost a recluse, of Amazon for everything from books to kitchen supplies and bug spray.

It’s a book kind of weekend, and I intend to take full advantage of it. Hope you can curl up with a good book.

A fireplace in summer

The granddaughter who just turned twenty-one

If you read this blog often, you know I love my tiny cottage. It has everything I’ve ever wanted—except a fireplace. There simply isn’t space in my 600 square feet. On cold mornings, I longed for the heat of a fireplace and the comfort of flickering flames.

Fast forward: today is my oldest granddaughter’s birthday. Sweet Maddie Moo is 21 today. With social distancing the family couldn’t gather to celebrate. And Maddie is in quarantine with her family in Frisco, so no celebrating with her friends at Colorado University. And though she planned to test out her new legal drinking age, she had to study for a remote final tomorrow. A grim way to celebrate your twenty-first, but she followed through with her usual cheerful attitude.

This afternoon Jordan and Jacob drove to Frisco to do a drive-by birthday celebration. They ended sitting on the front lawn, at appropriate distances, for about half an hour. When they came home, Jordan said, “Jamie sent  you a present.”

It turned out to be a desk fireplace! Just the thing I needed. It provides the image, and, should you want it—which I do not right now—it gives off some heat. In February, it will be great. I’m really excited about it—even as I turn on the air conditioner.

Other than that, it was an ordinary day. I laughed today when I saw a headline in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram that proclaimed tomorrow is Cinco de Mayo and urged readers to let them help plan the day. What’s to plan, I wondered? We’re quarantined, and one day blends into the next. No planning required. And that’s how my day went—1550 words on the work-in-progress, a nap, leftovers for supper. Chicken enchiladas and the remnants of a taco salad. So good—but a heaping plate that I forgot to take a picture of.

Tonight I’m watching a PBS special on the presidency of George W. Bush. I’ve been intrigued by Facebook threads since Bush made his statement last weekend urging the country to unite to fight the corona virus. “We are all in this together.” That release inspired a lot of comments. Many cannot and never will forgive him the disasters of his presidency—the Iraqi war, the devastating financial recession, the poor reaction to Katrina.

But others, and I am one of them, like Bush a lot better now that he is  not making bad decisions for the country. Perhaps it is that he has grown in character; perhaps it is that he is away from the malignant influence of Dick Cheney. He has taken up painting and done a series of portraits of wounded warriors, a series that exhibits compassion and caring. And it was not something that came easily to him—he worked at his art, he studied with artists.

Today, if you turn away from his presidency, he is usually regarded as a genuinely nice guy, comfortable, no pretense. His statement this past weekend demonstrated the man that he is today, who has perhaps put his political career behind him in retirement.

Here it comes: the story of “my encounter with a celebrity.” In this case, it’s Bush. At a Texas Book Festival in Austin, I attended a breakfast for authors in the governor’s mansion. I was at the time writing a book on strong Texas women and hoped to include Laura Bush. She was everything I expected—crisp, disciplined, organized (the profile of her never did work out). But she introduced me to her husband, who looked like he had just pulled his shirt out of the dryer and ducked his head shyly when he shook my hand.

Shows how our impressions of people change.

Note: This was supposed to be a Monday night post, but Blogger and I had a disagreement. "Twas late, and I was beyond figuroring it out, so I put it off until morning. Amazing how things that are complicated at midnight work out at eight in the morning.

All Saints Day and a baseball jersey crisis--it's all part of the day

Very proud to say Jacob did an outstanding job on his first run at being an acolyte. Suitably serious but didn’t run down the aisle to get it over with, kept the flame lit in its taper, and lit the candle with steady hands. His mom tells me he was really nervous, but it didn’t show. Today was not a traditional service. A special chamber orchestra and the Chancel Choir performed Gabriel Fauré’s Requiem throughout the service—absolutely magnificent music, so wonderful that I sat back and let it wash over me.

But as a result, the acolytes didn’t sit in the chancel. Jacob sat in the first pew right in front of us. I was so proud of him I kept wanting to reach out and ruffle his hair (that would have made him indignant) or just touch him. But he was such a concentrated study in self-control that I restrained myself. Confusion at the end, because the signals to leave weren’t what he’d practiced, and he and the other acolyte ended up carrying their lit tapers through a crowd of people down that long aisle. I had a moment of worry that they’d set someone on fire, but all was well.

The morning started with a phone call from Jordan: where was his baseball jersey? He last saw it in my bedroom, and if we didn’t find it he couldn’t play in the championship game. Great guilt! I looked, even went through the laundry hamper searching for a white jersey. Finally called the woman who had cleaned for me Friday—contrary to what my regular lady told me, this one did not have much English. She promised her son would call in 15 minutes, and he did—between us we worked out that it was indeed in the hamper but was dark blue. I threw it in the washer and hung it out to dry while we were in church. Crisis averted.

After church we wanted a quick lunch. Went to Esperanza’s down the block—wrong move. Sunday after church is their busiest time, and we didn’t finish eating until two. Jordan took off to go to the Cowboy game, and Christian and Jacob and I came back to get the shirt and look for his hat, now also missing. I thought I knew where it was in my office, but it wasn’t there. Christian found it, fallen between the small stand and the floor. Another crisis averted. Life with nine-year-old boys is, well, amusing at the least. As they left Jacob was getting a lecture about not leaving things strewn all over my house but collecting and taking care of his belongings. Wonder how much good that will do?

The rest of the day was a lovely lazy Sunday. I’m reading Susan Elia McNeal’s Mrs. Roosevelt’s Confidante and enjoying it, though as fiction it takes real liberties with fact. Still, the early days of WWII in DC are fascinating and the plot is fast-moving. I’m having fun. A nap, and a bowl of stew from last night in front of the fireplace. What more could one ask on a chilly evening? November is really here.

Hope it’s a good week for everyone.