The joy of tradition

 

Colin carving

Don’t be fooled by the picture of Colin carving in his starched white shirt and Santa Claus tie. The bottom half was navy blue shorts, bare legs, and sandals. Reminded me of Covid days when men I know worked remotely from home, dressed just that way.

The happy table

This year Thanksgiving in Tomball was a lovely, low-key family day, filled to the brim with tradition. For me, it was turkey, a good book, and a nap. For some of the others, it was football, with special appreciation for Dolly Parton and the half-time show. And for still others, it was a day for a complicated, thousand-word puzzle. And our meal was traditional as it comes—ham, smoked turkey, dressing, gravy, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, truffle mac ‘n cheese (that was never a traditional dish for me until my kids began to demand it—I still have a hard time associating it with holiday meals), rolls with cinnamon butter, pumpkin pie, and apple pie. Couldn’t get more traditional, and I loved it. Of course, everyone was too full after a two-o’clock meal for the pies, so we had them for second supper in the evening.

I had a lovely nap between first and second supper and spent most of the evening reading a mystery I had just started. Lisa and her mom spent a good four hours on the jigsaw puzzle—they still have a long way to go.

Lisa and Torhild working on the puzzle.

To top the day off, I slept hard for ten hours and woke feeling sleep-logged. Sophie slept all night, though she wandered about the bedroom a bit in the wee hours. At six, when Colin appeared in the kitchen, she was more than ready to go out.

Yesterday was chilly, damp with a bit of drizzle—not a day to encourage sitting by the lake. This morning is sunny and pretty, but Lisa tells me there is a chilly breeze. Maybe later, with the fire pit and a heater, we can sit by the water, one of my favorite spots. Meantime, I’m at my computer, enjoying the view from inside, with a cozy heater at my feet, basking in the laziness of the day after.

 

What do you do on weekends?

 

I know a lot who read this blog are, like me, retired, so I think a question is relevant that came up in a small online group I belong to: how is the weekend any different. I mean, if you can set your own schedule all week long, what if anything sets Saturday or Sunday apart?

I particularly thought about it today because it was a long, lazy day. The guests I expected tonight came last night accidentally, so I had nothing to do to prepare. Sophie somehow senses weekends—she still gets me up at 7:00 promptly for what we are calling her first breakfast. Actually she tried for it at 6:30, but I gave her a piece of cheese and told her to hang on for half an hour. She did. But then, after she had eaten and gone outside briefly, she let me sleep until nine. This is a boon because the shot-givers in the house don’t like to get up early on Saturday, but Sophie has to have her shot within an hour of her second breakfast. All worked out fine.

Jordan was in and out of the cottage all morning, mostly raiding my fridge. She had five sleeping teenage boys and a party mess in the house, but they cleaned it up promptly once they were awake. She armed herself with leftover lunch meat, chip and dip makings, and the like, but I don’t think they ever came back after the TCU game. This evening when I wanted to fix my supper, I had to ask for several pans. But I was glad for her occasional company. She and Christian apparently watched the TCU game—I checked the score occasionally—and then tonight, with guests, the Baylor game. They are a house of divided loyalties, as is Megan’s house in Austin.

Meanwhile, I read emails, checked on the daily news—there was a lot that upset me today, mostly about ways Republicans were scheming to take away more freedoms and benefits. In Texas somehow in connection with the anti-abortion law they are targeting highways. Not sure how that works but soon if we’re not diligent it will be illegal to drive a car with a pregnant woman in it. Some days I read the news from various sources and don’t share much; other days I share every third thing I read. Today was one of the latter.

I was almost through a novel which had an interesting concept, though it too often wandered into introspection. Anyway, I was determined to finish it today so I could write a brief report for a writers' group that had expressed interest. The novel was inspired by the iconic Dorothea Lange Depression photograph, “Migrant Mother,” as was my award-winning short story, “Sue Ellen Learns to Dance,” and so I was comparing the handling of the core material in the two pieces. Glad to get it done.

Saturdays are often cooking days for me, and today was no exception. But I ran into a couple of roadblocks. I always have packages of frozen petite peas on hand, so I put one out to thaw for pea salad. Only after about an hour I discovered what I thought was peas was lima beans. I think I must have bought them by mistake, because I don’t particularly care for them. Fortunately, I had an almost full package of peas. Often if I’m eating alone on a grocery delivery day, I order one serving of fresh fish, so today I ordered a quarter lb. of Dover sole—and got a whole pound. After some deliberation I cooked the whole thing, figuring leftovers will make lunch. It’s such a delicate fish—in taste and texture—that every time I sauté it, I end with fish hash. Tonight, I baked it, and it was delicious and held together better, though I still didn't get a perfect filet.

So here I am, on a Saturday night, me and my computer. It’s been a good day, not a lot different from many of my days, and yet I had the sense all day long that it was Saturday, a day set apart. One thing jolted me tonight: at 5:30 I turned the TV on to see what Channel 5 reported on the day’s news—and got a football game. Suddenly I realized it’s that season again—football will pre-empt the news programs I look forward to. That does not brighten my Saturdays, though I know at least half the rest of the world is delighted.

What about you? Are Saturdays different?

A rich dinner, kitchen goofs, and more football

 

There’s a meme going around on Facebook asking what food you think of when you think of your father. My instant answer, with my Canadian father who was an Anglophile—leg of lamb. Some time ago I was given a generous gift certificate to Whole Foods, and I blew the whole thing on a butterflied leg of lamb. So tonight we ate high on the hog—leg of lamb, twice-baked potatoes, and salad. I should/could have marinated the lamb overnight, but I didn’t get to it, and this morning the day started off so oddly with the time change that it was late morning before I got the marinade made. So I put it in the fridge until late afternoon and then marinated it at room temperature. I haven’t made twice-baked potatoes in a long time, so I printed out a recipe to get the proportions right. Then I figured out what I was doing and threw the recipe away. The result was a truly magnificent meal. The lamb was tender and just done right—pink, so it was neither over- nor under-done. Kudos to Christian, our grill master. Shh. Don’t tell, but I put a bit of buttermilk in the potatoes. Made them creamy and gave them just the slightest tang. I am ready for a nap. But then, my biological clock hasn’t adjusted to the time change.

It’s a good thing I made a good dinner, because maybe it counterbalances all my kitchen “oops” moments of yesterday. I started out to make apple crisp for me and Jean. I will never ever work with Granny Smith apples again. I know, they’re recommended for pies and desserts and the like. But they were the hardest things to cut that I’ve ever encountered. I finally ended up nicking a finger, which bled all over half of one apple. Finger pricks always bleed a lot, and I am on blood thinners, so it was a gusher. I got a band aid, finished cutting the apple into chunks instead of the recommended thin slices and gave up. Then I started on the artichoke/spinach pasta, a dish I’ve wanted to make for a long time but haven’t because of the tastes—or non-tastes—of some of the family. Problem: no artichokes. I always have a can in my pantry drawer. Took it completely apart—no artichokes. Jean stopped at Target to buy a can and met a bewildering array of choices—large, medium, small, quartered, whole, etc.

I’m happy to report that both the pasta dish and the apple crisp turned out great. My leftover half of the crisp was particularly good for breakfast this morning. But I have a gentle reminder—a finger that is slightly sore when I type, from the nick.

Sophie also hasn’t gotten her biological clock in order. She has been a pain all day—wanting in, wanting out, wanting in again, not sure what she wants. I leave the door ajar just a crack because she knows to paw it open—when she will, which is not all the time. Sometimes she throws herself against the door, which does nothing but securely close it. Then she barks, whine, growls, and mutters until I get up to do her bidding. This morning she slept until 8:30 on the old time, which was 7:30 on the new, but I was able to entice her in after a few minutes so I could go back to bed. Praying she adjusts soon.

Gary Patterson continues to be prominent in local headlines and on Facebook. A few people posted today to say, in effect, “We won without him.” The truth is, of course, that yesterday’s triumph over Baylor was his win. He worked with those kids all week, though officially no longer coach, and he planned the game. I think that’s called integrity. Those who didn’t recognize that mostly got slapped down for being rude, inconsiderate, etc. Tonight, between Christian and Jacob, I finally got some idea of what NIL means and why Patterson said he would lose kids when it became effective. Name, Image, Likeness—the new ruling means college players can be compensated and give endorsements. It’s a huge step toward making professionals out of amateurs or college kids, and I can see how it will weaken programs. Once more, money is ruining the intent of college football—kids play for money, not the glory of the school or a post-graduate career. And schools pay exorbitant sums to shine on the football field. I admit I was astounded when I first heard Patterson’s salary. I’m old school, but I do think money is ruining college sports.

And so we begin another week. I hope it’s a good one for each and every one of you.

The Alter kids step out on the town—and some thoughts on eggplant

 

Lisa and Colin
date night

Jordan and Christian
American Cancer Society dinner

Megan in her new boots
No idea where she was going,
but she's ready for some dancing!

While my children were gallivanting, I was home with guests and an appetizer behind which there was a story. I had invited Teddy and Sue for dinner tonight. Teddy, is perhaps the only person I know who is really crazy about eggplant, so I promised to fix him my special Eggplant Parmesan—with the meat/cheese/tomato/eggplant mixture stuffed back into the eggplant shells. It’s showy and, in my opinion, delicious. We’d been talking about this a while, and I was looking forward to making it happen.

Yesterday, Jordan came home from the grocery with four tiny, baby eggplants, each about two fingers wide and about six inches in length. I fumed, I fussed—there was no way to stuff them, and they wouldn’t produce enough substance to adequately flavor the filling. I emailed, rescheduling the Parmesan dish but inviting them for happy hour and promising a nibble. Then is occurred to me that someone somewhere must cook with these tiny things, so I went online searching and came across directions for roasting, with an aside that you could scoop the meat out and serve like hummus or butter.

Following the directions I split the eggplants, salted them, drained them, rinsed them. Then brushed them with oil and roasted them, face down in the pan. Let them cool, scraped out the meat (not easy), added thyme, oregano, salt and pepper, and olive oil. And ended up with a lumpy mixture impossible to spread. So I hauled out my small food processor and gave it a whirl. Results: a spread I thought was okay, Sue said was good, and Teddy loved. I sent it home with him. I probably never will do all that again, but I’ll gladly give Teddy the recipe.

Several people told me this was a supply chain problem, and many shelves are bare at the stores. When I hear supply chain I think cargo ship, but realistically I suppose it has to do with the shortage of truck drivers. Toilet paper shortages or such I can see, but eggplant?

We touched on the subject of Coach Gary Patterson—I was wearing my TCU Friday purple—and Sue not unexpectedly agreed that he has really turned TCU and Fort Worth around, but she was philosophical about money talks, and it’s the way of the world, and twenty years is a long time for a coach. I remain indignant about the lack of respect and gratitude shown Coach P. by TCU, and it occurred to me that what the world needs is a lot less blasé acceptance of “the way things are” and a lot more righteous indignation. I for one will continue to fight for honesty, dignity, and openness in politics and schools and, yes, football, even though I never even watch a game.

A memorable day in many ways

 

A trio of back patio pictures.

As Jordan and I drove out of the driveway early this morning, I was pleased to see the American flag flying at the curb of many homes. People on our street remember—as if we could forget this day. (The flags are a subscription service provided on patriotic holidays by our South Side Rotary—I have been a subscriber for years.) The internet is full of memories and images and lots of “Where were you when you first heard?” or “How did you spend the day?” We each have our memories.

This year, because of the withdrawal of our troops from Afghanistan, this day of memory is even more poignant than usual. It has led many to speculate on why we were at war in that country for twenty years. Should we have withdrawn once Osama Bin Laden was dead? Some called it the endless war. We apparently made life easier for the Afghan people, especially the women who were heavily oppressed, but when the time for the Afghan military and government to take over came, they buckled, as though the manpower, equipment, and time put in had been for naught. Not to mention the American lives lost nor, in greater numbers, the loss of Afghan life which was astronomical. Instead of uniting us, as the original terrorism act did, this newest direction has led to further division. Sadly, like the pandemic, the withdrawal has divided us into liberals and conservatives. It is not, to my mind, a way to honor those who died. Instead of calm discussion, we have reduced ourselves to shouting and anger and blame.

Still it was a moving day. I lost myself first in the special digital edition the Fort Worth Star-Telegram issued, featuring survivors’ stories, along with features about Muslim citizens and their treatment since, and children not yet born who lost parents in the devastation. It was I thought a particularly well-done tribute. And then on the internet, I ran across a video with graphic images flashed across the screen while “The Sound of Silence” played. I was mesmerized and you may be too. It’s on YouTube somewhere if you know how to find those things.

Jordan and I went to Calloway’s for fall plants—each of us had a list She wanted to brighten up the back yard (I think in preparation for her sister’s mid-day arrival) and I wanted additional herbs for my garden. I worried of course—would we walk farther than I was comfortable with? Would I be left in the car while she shopped, a situation that makes me uneasy. None of that happened, and we had a happy good time picking out plants. I do have to say Calloway’s is not an inexpensive place to shop—but it’s convenient, and it was easily accessible for me. When I got winded, I sat in my walker, and a couple of times she said, “Feet up!” and whisked me through the aisles. As my concern diminished, my walking strength improved. We had fun.

Once home, I became a armchair expert while Jordan planted and I suggested what plant should go in what pot. She blew the leaves off the patio and the yard really does look pretty. The new herbs are still in their containers in the wooden garden—Jordan left them for Megan and me to plant.

Megan arrived from Austin barely in time to give me a quick hug and head out to the TCU football game. The game was pretty much a nail-biter. TCU triumphed in the end—but barely, 34-32. And everybody came back to the house for dinner, where Christian had been marinating steaks and shredding Brussel sprouts. Jordan had made some super Parmesan/green onion potato cakes (wiped out our rather generous supply of Parmesan), and with Megan’s help I fried bacon and we made a wilted lettuce salad, using butter lettuce which for me is a treat and a splurge. When I said to Megan that it was expensive—something like $4 for a small head, she replied, “You pay more than that for a margarita,” and expounded that honey crisp apples are so delicious but three for $12. She tells herself she’d pay more than that for a margarita too. I did not point out that I don’t drink margaritas, but I am wondering about the scales against which she balances things.

dinner with happy people

We had a jolly, happy dinner, joined by David who was in high school with Jordan and has pretty much been family ever since. I don’t see him much these days, so it was a real treat to have him with us. We sat around talking about everything from gossip to anti-vaxxers, and eventually I announced it was time for me and Sophie to go home. When I ask, “Do you want to go home?” she is always so delighted and bolts for the door. Megan walked me out and came in and visited –I cannot tell you how much I treasure those mother/daughter moments.  

So today I’ve had two outstanding mother/daughter times—at the nursery and in the back yard with Jordan and tonight in the cottage with Megan. I am so blessed. Looking forward to tomorrow—Megan will be here all day. We have a date to plant herbs in the morning.

 

A football kind of a day

Pictured above are two happy campers who drove to Waco to watch Baylor whup UT. I’m sure they won’t lord it over the Austin branch of the family—or maybe they will. Meanwhile, back in Fort Worth, Jordan and I had a nice day together—she made tuna for lunch and helped me get myself together to go to Tomball tomorrow

But she too was watching the Baylor game—some of it in my cottage. She had me so cowed that when she went to feed the neighbor’s cat with a warning she’d be back to watch the game, I was afraid to change it to the news channel. As soon as Baylor won—well, with five second left but it was clear—she was off to friends’ house to watch the TCU game. She had urged me to go, but in all honesty I’m happier at home with a book.

Watching football never did much for me. Maybe I was off to a bad start, because I came from the University of Chicago which had abandoned the game long before I arrived on campus. In fact, the football stadium was famous for something entirely different—the development of the atomic bomb. I grew up with stories of how they almost blew us in the surrounding neighborhood to smithereens, but that’s another story.

When my ex and I arrived in Fort Worth for his surgical residency, we were often invited to TCU games by physicians. In those day—the sixties—going to a TCU game was strictly a dress-up affair. Funny to think of now. I remember one of the first games I went to. It was September, but coming from Iowa, Illinois and Missouri I associated football with cold weather and dressed appropriately, lugging a full-length coat to the game. Needless to say, I was a bit over-dressed.

Later, when I was single, Toni Newton, the wonderful woman who was assistant to Chancellor Bill Tucker, befriended me and used to invite me to the pre-game parties at her apartment, which was kind of across the road from the stadium. I went for the conviviality and for the delicious array of pot-luck snacks, and then I went to the game out of politeness. After a few of those evenings, I got so I went to the pre-game party and snuck home when others went to the game.

I have never since been to a game and only watch when I cannot escape. Tonight I was completely happy to stay home with leftover meatloaf (only medium good—freezing didn’t preserve it as well as I’d hoped) and the rest of last night’s spinach, which was delicious. And two molasses cookies—I am loving them. And, of course, the mystery I’m reading.

Sophie had a spa day today in preparation for travel—a bath, a trim, nails trimmed, a fresh scarf, the whole works. Lisa, Colin’s wife, does not like dogs on furniture and I don’t blame her. That’s certainly how I was raised. They have a big dog who wouldn’t dream of getting on the couch. Sophie on the other hand thinks beds, couches, upholstered chairs were meant for her, and try as I might I cannot dissuade her. So I thought the least I could do was have her clean. I’ll take her crate, where she happily sleeps at night. I usually displace my granddaughter whose bed is so high Soph can’t begin to think of jumping on it. Shoot—I can barely get into it. It always puts me in mind of the tale of the princess and the pea. (I guess you have to be a certain age to get that reference.)

Sweet dreams, y’all.

A lovely weekend

Sophie is hyped to have all the people and an extra dog around and showing her

excitement by acting like a crazy wild thing, leaping from lap to lap, running 

in circles, chasing the other dogs. Pure dog happiness

My blogging schedule—and every other schedule if I had one—is way off but for such a good reason. My Megan has come from Austin, bringing Brandon, Sawyer and Ford. I’d love to say the only reason they came is to see me, but there’s that little matter of the TCU/Texas game which is where they are right now. Megan is a loyal Frog fan, but both she and Brandon went to UT for law school, and he persists in cheering for the orange. Sawyer doesn’t care,  I don’t think, but Ford has long cheered for all things purple. Jacob remains ever loyal to his dad’s alma mater, Baylor, but is decked out today in a TCU hoodie.

Jordan and I started out the weekend early yesterday by treating ourselves to lunch at Press Café, a place I like a lot but have a couple of problems with. The menu is interesting, the food good (I really like the deconstructed tuna salad), but they don’t take reservations. Every nice evening that I long to sit outside, it’s too crowded. And inside is unbearably noisy. We went at eleven which seems to be the perfect hour between breakfast and lunch service—got a table right away and could hear each other. It was cold outside, but still lovely to sit inside by the windows and look out at trees and grass—and a huge fire in a barrel—rather than other buildings.

It's a weekend of feasting. The Austin family had to wait for Sawyer to get out of school at 4:30 but they hit the road immediately and were here just before eight. We thought the traffic might be bad because of the game, but not so. We rushed off to Pacific Table where we were seated at a booth I didn’t even know existed—tucked away behind the bar, at the very back of the restaurant. Just right for the six of us (Jordan and Christian had another event), and it was much quieter than the front of the restaurant. We came home to celebrate Ford’s thirteenth birthday with chocolate cake—and new TCU gear for Jacob and the Austin boys.

Today I went with Jordan to drop the football fans as close to the stadium as we could get. Traffic was horrible, and Jordan got a scolding from a policeman at the first corner where we tried to let them out. Then we went to McKinlay’s to pick up lunch—not as easy as it sounds, though we lucked into a “to go” parking spot. I waited in the car while Jordan went in—thirty minutes later she emerged. I amused myself by watching people and cars—they are scary drivers in the University Village parking lot—and by reading a novel on my phone.

While everyone was at the game—Jordan and Christian are watching at a friend’s house—I napped, just to keep straight my record of having done nothing constructive today. Tonight, the ritual dinner at Joe T. Garcia’s. For my family, it truly is a ritual. Jordan tells me we’ll sit outside so I can hear—while I freeze to death, although at five o’clock, it’s pleasant enough I have the door open. A last bit of fall.

Rain and football

Watching the game. Can ou tell my level of interest?

One of those days when you wake up to rain and it never really stops. Demoralizing, depressing. I fear I am tired of telling myself how grateful I am for the rain—the ground is saturated, which of course makes for muddy dogs. I watched one of the Cavaliers slip on the wet deck and nearly go tumbling down the steps. When I went into the main house, I didn’t feel much more sure-footed myself.

We were overdue for a mowing on Friday and of course it rained. The weeds are long enough that I’m worried about snakes getting the dogs. We have weeds because a fungus among us destroyed our grass in the backyard. I am really tired too of looking at the overgrown mix of weeds and surviving grass. Last year we had such a beautiful lush lawn.

Jordan and Christian had friends over to watch the TCU/Texas game, all young people I am really fond of. Young? Ouch—they’re sure approaching middle age. Hard for me to believe. At any rate it was nice to be surrounded by conversation and company, a break from the dreary day, though one girl, a Texas fan, said, “I was going to tell you that you look pretty, but since TCU is winning, I take it back.” At the end of the game, a disaster for TCU and triumph for Texas, as I was leaving, she said, “Okay, you look pretty.”

I always root for TCU, but I am not what you’d call an ardent football fan. I usually don’t watch, partly because I don’t understand. I see a jumble of men pounce on the ball and I hear people of one persuasion or another cheering or holding their breath or booing, but I really have no idea what happened. I told the group I’d brought a book just in case they got boring.

I do worry about my Megan. Although she went to UT for law school, she remains a rabid TCU fan. Her husband is equally rabid about UT, though he too only went there for law school. Theirs is a divided—and vocal—household. And their youngest son, eleven-year-old Ford, is a devoted TCU fan When I said I worried about Megan, Christian pointed out that Ford was the one who would suffer.

More rain tomorrow I suspect. Everyone get out your boots and stay safe and dry.

Pinch me-I’m dreaming

Wouldn’t you think you were dreaming if you crawled into bed in the late afternoon for an overdue nap and fell asleep while someone softly played acoustic guitar at your bedside? Son Jamie came over today, and we did have a long afternoon—lunch at Ol’ South, our favorite. That child of mine ate a chicken-fried steak dinner and a Dutch pancake! I contented myself with an order of corned beef hash, no egg—our order was so distinctive the server remembered us from a previous visit.

Then it was a long but satisfying time spent in a doctor’s office and home to figure out some computer problems and other things. By five, I who am used to a one o’clock nap was falling asleep on my feet. I never go to sleep when one of my out-of-town kids is visiting, but I went to change clothes and absolutely fell into bed. Jamie always has his guitar, and he came and played soft music. I have a tin ear, and he’s disappointed when I don’t recognize a tune—but I love the sound. Went soundly asleep and only wakened to say goodbye when he left. Thought it was all a dream—a nice one.

The other highlight of the day—Jacob’s middle school team won their game tonight. He, bless him, is a linebacker on the A team—not sure I know what all that means. I fought tooth and nail to keep him off the football field but to no avail. It still scares me, but I see changes in him to the good—maybe self-confidence, maybe physical from working out at, heaven help us, 6:20 in the morning.

So there are my two heroes for the day—Jacob and Jamie.

Thoughts on a rainy Saturday

I’m bored. Bored, I tell you! Bored, bored, bored. I had so looked forward to a rainy Saturday. The rain all morning was constant, though I saw scary pictures from around town. A nearby street known for restaurants, bars, and fun was ankle-deep in water that was running fairly fast. And a tragedy on the far east side of the city, where a woman and toddler were swept off the road into thirty feet of water. No way rescue could get to them. Imagine that. Thirty feet. I was glad to stay home, safe and dry, casting an occasional eye at the patio to be sure the water wasn’t threatening to come into the cottage.

Sophie periodically walked to the screen door and peered out, then turned away as if to say in disgust, “Still raining.” She, by the by, has developed the bad habit of wanting to go out between 1:30 and 4:30 a.m. and last night it dawned on me she may not so much want to go out as she wants the bit of cheese she knows I reward her with if she comes right in. Last night she was by the refrigerator awfully quickly. Another reaffirmation of my decision to live in a cottage and not a high-rise retirement community.

I was so much looking forward to the day that I was up and at my computer by 7:30 this morning, enthusiastic about all I could accomplish today. And my goodness, have I accomplished a lot—wrote 1800 words, finished proofing the cookbook (and came to grips with the reality that I have to do an index of recipes), read a bit, followed the day’s happenings on Facebook—and napped, twice. Not because I was sleepy but because on a rainy dull day bed seemed like a good place to be. (Honest, I work out plots in my head when I’m dozing.)

Typical of my day: called my oldest son about 10:15 in the morning to discuss a financial matter. He was riding his bike—stationary I presume—and said his training session would be over in ten minutes and he’d call then. Texted at 2:00 p.m.to inquire if he was still riding and wasn’t he tired yet. He called right away. Emailed my younger son with a computer question, and he answered promptly asking for more info that he needed to answer me. That’s the last I heard from him today. Suppose he fell asleep?

There comes a point when you’ve written all the words you have for the day, you really don’t want to start an index sort of late in the day, and the book you’re reading s good—but not that good. And that’s where I am—bored.

TV? I rarely watch, and tonight I’m afraid as a final insult added to injury football is going to take over the news slot. There is no justice in this world.

Do I feel silly complaining about boredom when I have my dog for company, my cozy cottage, a desk full of work to do? You bet I do. And it’s a rare confession from me. But tomorrow will be better.

Football in summer temperatures

My two gorgeous TCU daughters

My family has gone a-footballing. The TCU/UT game started at 6:15, but they left the house about 2:00, intent on finding several different friends they wanted to tailgate with. As Megan said, “It’s going to be a long day.” But they love it.

My thermometer tells me the temperature outside is 80, hardly football weather. I remember when I first moved to Texas. The last college football games I had gone to were in Iowa, and we bundled up—it was cold. When we first arrived in Texas, my new husband was a surgical resident, and the staff physicians often took us to TCU football games. I bundled up, because that’s what I thought one did for football games. And I ended up being miserably hot. I ad a full-length red coat that I had to hold or carry the whole night. I also remember that back then folks dressed for the game—no torn jeans and T-shirts, thank you. The ladies wore suits and dresses, and the men wore suits. TCU never won a game in those days, back in the mid-sixties, so I wondered why we went—my blood was not then purple. Thank goodness, that’s different today and they are winning many more than they are losing.

And grandsons--the one on the left looking serious is a dedicated TCU fan,

the one on the right, grinning, doesn't much care,

and I don't know what was going on with Jacob in the middle

Note the orange sleeve to the right--it's my son-in-law

See above that my daughter wore lots of purple--a divided family

I’m not a football fan. As I’ve said, I can never figure out what’s happening on the field. I used to go for the camaraderie. Now, for lots of reasons, it’s beyond me, but out of loyalty I keep it on the TV, muted. But every time I look up, hoping to see a score, they screen flashes scores of other games. I think it’s near the end of the second quarter, and I have no idea who’s winning. Oh, well. I suppose they’ll all come home and tell me, probably in the morning because I’m sure I’ll be asleep by the time they make it home tonight. A friend emailed to say it’s an exciting game—thanks a lot. I’m missing all the excitement.

Nice day. Went to Ol’ South with Megan and family and then to TCU bookstore, where Ford chose as his birthday present a T-shirt, face stickers, a football, and a pop socket. Jacob got a basketball, for which he swears he’ll pay me. Difference in kids—Sawyer happily went with his dad to look at books. Jacob and Ford ran loose like wild Indians. We finally corralled everyone, dropped all those males at the house, and went to Central Market.

I planned a good meal for myself tonight, but like many, it wasn’t quite right. I did a chicken thigh with soy, salt, pepper, and garlic powder in the toaster oven—and all that crisp skin, the best part, stuck to the foil I’d used to line the pan. Next time, I’ll grease the foil. The zucchini just didn’t taste right, but the ear of corn was delicious and so was the chocolate for dessert. Win some, lose some. I’ll have to try that chicken technique again.

Some experiments just don’t work out

Sporting Baylor's green and gold. Real school spirit

Quiet Saturday night. The Burtons are in Waco for the Baylor homecoming game, though they plan to make it home before the storms hit later tonight. Right now, it’s a lovely night. Patio doors open, and in the distance, I can hear faint music and cheering from the TCU homecoming. Of course, in my mind, Jordan, Jacob, and Christian have gone to the wrong game, but Christian is a dedicated Baylor fan and my efforts to convert Jacob to TCU have been fruitless. His cousin, Ford, however, is a dedicated TCU fan.

Perfect night for an experimental dinner. I’d found a recipe for eggs poached in red wine. Since I love poached eggs, it seemed to have my name on it. I added some sautéed mushrooms, and it was okay but not the score of ten I’d hoped for.  Best thing about it was the baguette slices browned in garlicky olive oil.

Eggs in the pan

The eggs looked beautiful in the pan, not so much so when I dished them up. It tasted okay but just not the outstanding and unusual dish I’d hoped for. I may work on it another time.

The final dish

Basting the eggs with wine gives them a funky color

A light supper was okay, because I had a hearty lunch. This morning I was working away when Jordan came out to announce that Christian had taken Jacob to a soccer game and did I want to go to lunch. So I showered and got ready. We chose Press Café where we could eat outdoors and enjoy the lovely day—temp in the 80s, slight breeze, comforting cloud cover. I had a cheeseburger—and I can’t believe I ate the whole thing! Usually I bring half home for a future meal, but this tasted really good although it was not quite cooked according to my request.

We drove around the new shops at Clearfork, Fort Worth’s new ultra ultra (and expensive) shopping center anchored by Neiman Marcus which alone tells you something about it.. There are restaurants there, but I will avoid many of them because the price is so high. I have my eye on one though that seems to have an interesting menu and reasonable prices. I had no idea there were so many shops back in there.

Came home and napped—that glass of wine with lunch! But I got a good thing accomplished today—the November neighborhood newsletter, the Poohbah, is ready to go to the printer as soon as I get answers to some questions I unearthed in the copy and approval of some bold changes I made in the minutes. Nice to have that out of the way.

A long email from a treasured and longtime friend who lives way too far away completed my day. She nailed it, said what drives us both is a northern European Protestant work ethic. Read that as we are two compulsives. Martha and I were in graduate school together in the sixties---shh! No comments about how long ago that was, please—and we gravitated to each other immediately. We were both in the English department and had another thing in common—our fathers were both presidents of osteopathic medical colleges. Ours is a friendship that has endured over long distance, with a few wonderful visits, for over fifty years. Such is rare and to be treasured.

A really good day. I think I’ve got my oomph back.

Cows, football, and the party's over

The Alter and Peckham families--a terrific crew

My family and I spent Friday at my brother’s ranch with most of his family. We number close to 30—fifteen adults and thirteen children of varying ages. Getting us together is often like herding cats but this opportunity came up suddenly and worked well. The girls tried to make it work-free for Cindy but there’s no stopping her. Jenn, my niece, did a lot of the work, and Colin brought potato casserole. John cooked tenderloins, and with an array of snacks, we ate way too much.

John had promised good weather so the kids could play outdoors. Good luck with that—when I work that morning it was wet, cold, and gloomy. But as a woman I knew used to say, “It faired off” into a pleasant day…and the kids did mostly disappear outside. It tickles me to ask Jordan if she knows where her child is and she says no but appears completely unconcerned.

For the adults, the attraction was twofold—a chance to be together and a focus on the TCU/UT football game. My kids grew up with their cousins close by---Sunday dinner every week. So though they rarely see each other these days, they are tightly bound by memories.

We have only one diehard UT fan among us—Megan’s husband Brandon. I didn’t realize before but he’s a vocal fan—very. Three of my four went to TCU as did Jenn; her husband grew up in a TCU family. So B. was outnumbered but undaunted. Until he grew quieter as the game progressed. In those agonizing, drawn-out last few minutes, he said to me “I have never seen a team so utterly defeated.” And they were—heads hanging, some in tears. What made it so poignant was the knowledge that Coach Charlie Strong would be replaced…and he was promptly on Saturday. But he conducted himself throughout the game with dignity and grace, and I kept thinking what an impossible position he was in.

It may well have been the first game I watched in years. I brought my iPad and read my book, but watched with one ear, more drawn by the drama of the rivalry and the coach’s awful position than by the technicalities of football, which I don’t pretend to understand. Of course, I wanted TCU to win and was cheered when they did.

Today, everyone’s gone home. After family leaves, it’s sort of like coming down from a high. You do the things you ignored and need to, but your mind wanders to special moments—watching my brother’s grands and realizing they are as close to each other as mine, brunch (at 12:30) at Ol’ South and watching best buddies Ford and Jacob have a big-time disagreement, talks with various of my children at different times, often late at night; listening to the  young mothers giggle over their concerns and joys, their voices increased a bit by wine; falling into bed at night grateful for all of them and optimistic about the days ahead, but so ready to sleep.

The cottage is perfect for visits like this—the family stays mostly in the main house, where it’s generally too noisy for me; but one by one or several at a time they wander out to the cottage, where I welcome their company. Maddie, my oldest grand, joins the adult conversations as a matter of course; her younger sister swings either way but this weekend was mostly drawn to the X-box games with her younger cousins.

The Tomball Alters took my car, promising to have it tuned and brightened.

Here, Morgan and Kegan look pretty pleased to be on the

way to Tomball in a convertible.

Today was back to business for me—I have quite a bit of work on my desk (including Christmas) but got some done today. I’m reading a mystery I want to finish before I dig into editing a lengthy manuscript, so I look forward to reading—when work becomes pleasure.

Okay, guys, let’s charge ahead into Christmas, the most joyous season. I’m looking forward to it a lot and hope you are too.

Over the river and through the woods....

Ahem!  Baylor fans. I can't help it. 

Well, it wasn’t quite that way but I did go over a river and through an endless but lovely part of Texas landscape to get to my brother’s for Thanksgiving. We used to always celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas together, but our families have gotten too big. This year my children were all with their in-laws, and I thought it a perfect time to invite myself to my brother’s ranch to join part of his family and extended family. My sister-in-law Cindy is the energizer bunny—I never saw her stop and sit down in the 24 hours I was there, but she served a wonderful dinner. My only contribution was a blue cheeseball and cranberry relish. My niece, Jenn, is not far behind Cindy in energy and made a wonderful sous chef for dinner and breakfast this morning. Cindy’s sister Patty watched after me with great care, so I didn’t have to walk much in strange surroundings. And Cindy’s Ralph drove me back and forth—Cindy in another car with her mom and the dogs—and Ralph and I had great conversations, mostly about how the landscape had changed with development from “back in the day.” It was a lovely warm 24 hours when I felt surrounded by people who love me and whom I love a lot—can’t ask for more.

Forgot to mention that Jenn and her husband Carlton have two absolutely gorgeous, mesmerizing daughters—Emory, the oldest, fixed perfect omelets for all of us (an art I’ve never mastered), and Maddie, the youngest at five, is a free spirit like you’ve never seen. Charming beguiling, and irresistible.

It was a lovely getaway, thunderstorms and cold notwithstanding. Last night we heard lightning strike so close that this morning John and Ralph went looking for damage but found none.

Now I’m home, warm and cozy, loving on Sophie who was glad to see me. But I’m worrying a bit about Jordan, Christian, and Jacob who are at the TCU/Baylor game.  It is 37 and rainy. Jordan, with divided loyalties, is with a TCU friend where she has access to indoor shelter. Her boys are in the visitors’ stands without such access. It is as she says a divided household. Christian is a loyal Baylor fan and has had an unfortunate influence on Jacob; Jordan, having grown up in the shadow of TCU, is divided in her loyalties. She threatened to wear green and purple to the game, but David, the old friend who was taking, her, said he wouldn’t go with her if she did that.

It was one of those holidays when I wasn’t with my children but was with family, talked to the kids, and felt warm and loved and happy. Hope you all had as happy a holiday.

As for TCU/Baylor, last time I looked they were tied. Who knows, but it’s liable to be a long, cold night for my babies and others at Amon Carter Stadium.

From drought to floods—overnight

I was mesmerized this morning, watching the eleven o’clock news report—pictures of flooded streets, reports of closed highways. It rained much of yesterday afternoon but overnight a gentle rain turned into downpours which continued all day. Newscasters advised people not to drive unless they had to and particularly not to head south out of the Metroplex.

Just as Jacob headed for school, a horrendous clap of thunder hit right over my house. Impressive thunder continued off and on throughout the morning. Sophie usually is not bothered by storms, but this morning she needed frequent reassurance that she was safe. She spent much of the morning at my feet in the “safe spot” under my desk. It made me think of my Aussie, Scooby, who was terrified of storms and hid there often, raking my legs with his nails in his fright. I wondered if it rains and thunders on the Rainbow Bridge—probably not.

So where was my Fort Worth family headed during all this? Waco. Straight into the worst of it. They were going for the Baylor homecoming, and I knew it was useless to try to dissuade them. I didn’t even try. Just said a prayer for them, fed them lunch, and sent them on their way. This afternoon, after a late nap, I woke up to a message that they had arrived safely, and pictures on Facebook testified that they were enjoying the activities.

It all sounds like a miserable experience to me, but I am neither a Baylor fan nor a football fan. I am mildly interested in TCU football, but I wouldn’t go to a game in the rain. It’s supposed to rain all day tomorrow too. Thank you, monster storm Patricia. We wanted rain, but not like this. I worry about the people in Mexico, many of whom are ill prepared to deal with the worst hurricane in history…and the people in Puerto Vallarta, who thought they were going on a carefree vacation.

Meantime I spent the day playing the recluse—mostly at my desk. Sent off a guest blog, made great progress on formatting Desperate for Death for publication, sending in an insurance request. Periodically it pours and then all is quiet. Kind of spooky.

I’ve enjoyed allowing myself time to read mysteries this week. Just finished A Dish Best Served Cold: An Italian Kitchen Mystery, by Rosie Genova. Recommend it highly. Looking forward to starting a new book tonight—quite a selection on my iPad and choosing will be hard.

Y’all stay safe and dry. Don’t go out if you don’t have to.

 

Football and a rant

This is going to turn into a political rant, so if you want to move on now, I understand. But first I have to say that I have never seen so much purple in a grocery store as I saw this morning—all young men. One group in purple shirts and khaki pants, another in white, long-sleeved shirts with astounding purple jeans—I pretty quickly decided they were part of a pledge class. And assorted purple shirts throughout the store. I’ve heard that people who like purple are kinder and more intelligent—hope that’s true.

As if I didn’t know, the young man who carried my groceries told me it was the opening home game. I knew—mostly because a friend was taking Jacob. I’m not much of a football fan but I am glad they won 70-7 today. I think it a bit unfair to match Stephen F. Austin against such a powerful rival, but what do I know about football.

Now, with my local family all glued to the Baylor game at their house, I’m quietly at home. There’s something nice about breakfast for dinner, and I just had bacon and poached eggs on cheese toast. Next door, the MSU/LSU game is on a big outdoor screen, so should I want some football all I have to do is turn around and look out the window. My neighbor has a smashing new deck that he built himself, and he sets a huge screen up in the yard. He was cordial about telling me to come over any time, but I’d hardly fit in that crowd—young medical people barely out of their twenties if that. Nice neighbors though. And obviously football season is all around me.

My rant: I am outraged at the conservative policy to defeat Planned Parenthood. Boehner and his cronies know the funding bill, calling for cutting all funding to PP, will not pass the Senate, and should it, the President will veto it, thereby again shutting down the government at great cost to the nation and to many individuals. But then, they figure, the public will think it’s all the Democrats fault. How naïve can they be? Yes, the far right will sing that song but it is so far from the truth that it seems like dirty politics (is there any other kind these days?). All this based on videos which have been proven false. There was a hearing on Capitol Hill to explore Planned Parenthood—but no representatives of the organization were invited or allowed to attend.  The House committee entitled the hearing “Exploring the Horrific Practices of the Nation’s Largest Abortion Provider.” Sure, an unbiased exploration of facts.

Don’t know for sure but I doubt PP is the nation’s largest provider, since abortions are 3% of their mission. It’s called “Don’t tell me about the good they do because my mind is made up, and I don’t want to hear!” We simply cannot let these people determine the future of our country.

See the steam coming out of my ears?

But let me add a positive note: I have tremendous admiration for Bernie Sanders for his refusal to cast aspersions on Hillary Clinton and to voice anything but praise for her. Now that’s politics as it should be.

 

 

A Blue Monday--not!

Today was all the good things that Monday should be--a day to recuperate and gather myself after a great weekend. Went out to breakfast with a friend (as she said, breakfast out seems almost decadent), came home and dug into the things I need to do--lists and emails and putting away dishes and folding the laundry that's been in the dryer for four days. Linda said at breakfast that her mother once said if she ever built a house, it would have two dishwashers--one for clean and one for dirty. And no shelves. Sometimes it sounds good. Wish somebody would invent a dryer that folds clothes.
A wonderful weekend--three of my four children and four of my seven grandchildren were here. The Austin bunch came for the last TCU game and, as is almost ritual, insisted on dinner at Joe T.'s. So Jamie and his oldest daughter, Maddie, drove from Frisco--with Maddie proudly driving her brand new red Jeep. Talk about growing up too quickly! She's sophisticated but sweet and can sure hold her own in a teasing conversation. We missed her mom and younger sister, who wasn't feeling well.
I learned a trick about eating at Joe T.'s--take my hearing aids out. It cuts the background noise, and I can pretty much hear those sitting close to me. Had fajitas but I think next time I'll go back to "the dinner." Our good times continued too late Sat. when we came home. In the morning, with the Austin folks at Jordan's house and Jamie and Maddie in the guest apartment, my house was blissfully quiet.
We were among the many sorry that neither TCU nor Baylor made the playoffs but even so, TCU had a stunning season and we're proud of the Frogs. Much much talk about football at my house yesterday. I had to remind everyone it was Pearl Harbor Day which is, at my age, emblazoned on my memory from childhood--I was three at the time and don't remember the actual day but for the years of my growing up it is a huge memory.
In the evening I had a few friends in for happy hour and appetizers--people that Jamie and Megan haven't seen in years and were glad to see. Friend Linda from Granbury spent the night so she could enjoy the evening and not worry about the drive back. She has known the kids almost all of their lives and has funny stories to tell about them. So proud of my children now that they're grown and can greet old family friends as adults. The little boys--in this case, Jacob and Ford--vanished from our sight after eating hot dogs, but Sawyer, now ten,  hung out some with the adults.
In other words, folks, my cup runneth over and I'm taking today to be thankful and get back in my routine. Even made a little progress on the chili books. So close to the end!

The good times are rolling

Well, I had a funny picture to post, with everyone raising a toast at Joe T.'s and two earnest little boys raising their soft drinks--but it didn't transmit from my daughter's phone to my computer. My oldest daughter and her husband and two boys came to town today for the TCU football game. Meg is a loyal Frog alum, roots for them all season, and wanted to come for the last game. Somehow when my family is all here they think they should eat at Joe T.'s, which is okay with me but I would like to introduce a little more variety into their restaurant choices. Still, I had a lesson tonight is what kids remember from childhood--so my grandchildren will all remember Joe T.'s.
Jamie and his oldest, Maddie, met us for dinner, but his wife Mel and youngest Eden stayed behind in Frisco. Eden has been having stomach issues and they were bothering her today. Jordan's husband, Christian, ever a bear fan, is in Waco for Baylor's game. Still we were a jolly crew--Jordan and Jacob, Jamie and Maddie, and Megan and her family. Part of our happiness came from TCU's smashing victory today but there was endless speculation on who would rank where and who would go to what bowl game. My children are amazed that for once I know a smidgeon of what they're talking about. I'm not a football fan but TCU is so on fire this season that even I have been dragged in.
Everyone gathered back at my house for a brief while, and Jamie pulled up notes he's made on their childhood. Apparently he notes these things on his iPhone as he thinks of them, because his list was endless. Most of them set off hysterical giggles but there were some less than pleasant memories in there too. The grandchildren listened attentively, surprised I think to hear this side of their parents. Jamie remembered the Christmas they got a giant Tinker Toy set, and the years they peeked at their Christmas gifts, and times their father disciplined them for not doing the chore he'd sent them to do. And lots of other things. I added some memories too. Nice to recall the good times.
But for me, the good times are now. I sit and watch my children and grandchildren in awe at how wonderful they are, how much they enjoy being together and how much they love each other. Dysfunctional families are common these days, and we hear stories of how a dysfunctional family hampers an adult who is unable to put that behind. My family was and is fully functional. My kids had several strikes against them--they're adopted, which means someone gave them up; they suffered irrational and harsh discipline at times (their father was raised that way, though I did everything I could to be a buffer--the person I am today would have done more); and they lived through divorce and being raised by a single mom from the time most of them were young. I've never heard a one say a negative word about their childhood--except in jest: Jamie swears he's suing because we didn't care enough to make them wear seatbelts (in an era went seatbelts were generally ignored). I am so proud of those kids and so blessed. This time of year makes it even more poignant to me.