Silence and simplicity

 

Such a lovely evening last night. I thought it would be colder than it was, so I made a pot of chili. A good friend came to share it—plenty left over for tonight. She is the kind of friend who lets me dump about what’s on my mind, from personal problems I know won’t travel any farther to the political thoughts—and outrage today about the Texas abortion case—that we both share. She brought the gorgeous poinsettia above. I’ve never seen one like it and am particularly fascinated by the one white leaf with the red splotch in the middle.

But late last night, when all was still, Sophie was asleep in her crate by my desk (her favorite place) and I could hear her gently breathing, the Christmas lights still on, I sat with a glass of wine reading the Truman book that has me so interested. And I thought to myself it was one of life’s rare moments of real contentment.

I haven’t been writing lately, except blogs and business letters to take care of all kinds of loose financial ends, but it occurred to me this morning that I was being lazy, and I really should get back to the work-in-progress, another Irene episode. Just when I was scolding myself for slacking off, I went to virtual church, and our minister, Russ Peterman, preached about silence and simplicity and how we get so frantic at this holiday season that we miss the real meaning of whatever holiday we celebrate. We need, he said, to create space in our lives to pause and take a breath, space for stillness. And I thought, “Wow! That’s what I’ve been doing. It’s okay.”

I had originally thought, when I backed off from keeping a compulsive schedule, that I’d pick things back up after the holidays. Now I’m back to that thought. My family will all be together—between fifteen and eighteen of us—and there are things I need to do, lists I need to make. But there are also a world of things I want to read, including that Truman book, and now I feel at ease to do them. This morning I slept late, really late, and about the only thing I did that might be called constructive was to make a batch of chutney, which is not turning out as it should. Otherwise, I’m reheating the chili and going to spend the evening with good old Harry.

This may be the new me. But so far, I’m liking it. Have you taken time to create a space in you life?

The holidays have begun

 

A rainy, drizzly day in Fort Worth. We were grateful for the half-inch we got, would have liked more, but are thankful the severe thunderstorms, large hail, and possible tornadoes did not materialize. Not a day to inspire great creativity, and I kind of noodled my way through the morning. Mary and I had planned to go to the Holiday Kickoff Sample Stroll at Central Market in the early evening but decided we’d watch the weather. It was warm, humid—the right conditions for severe weather—and to Sophie’s dismay it thundered all afternoon. But about four the thunder gave a last gasp, moved east, and the sun came out. We decided we could go.

When we left the cottage, it was warm but oh so windy. Central Market is west of us and though it’s not particularly flat around it, I’ve always noticed the wind was stronger there. And tonight it was, kept blowing the jacket off my shoulders. We found the #1 handicapped parking spot, and Mary pushed me in my new chariot. I knew it would be crowded and was afraid to try to navigate the motorized grocery cart with that many people. Turned out that was the better part of wisdom. As it was Mary bumped a a few people and was profuse in her apologies.

We had been to this eveny several years go and found it so-so. But tonight, they had really upped their game. Admission was free, though we had followed their request to register online. When we got there, it didn’t matter. Tasting stations were scattered throughout the star, and a greeter at the door gave us maps and coupons. Everything in the store was reduced, all a good bargain, but I couldn’t wrap my head around shopping. I have a long list, but I will order online and ask Jacob to get it Sunday.

Mary, however, had a short list and some impulse buys, all of which ended in a green basket in my lap. I accused her of deliberately picking heavy items—celery, a great bunch of bananas, two jars of peanut butter, and a bottle of some kind of juice. After that I told her she was cut off. The grapes and muffin cups were okay.

One long line snaked its way through the store, and we found it best just to go from station to station following the line, though we frequently pulled out of line because as Mary said you can’t push and eat at the same time. Samples were delivered in tiny paper baskets with napkins and tiny spoons. Wine was served in the tiniest of cups—about two small sips. But the choices were wide.

We were offered red wine, sauvignon blanc, chardonnay, champagne, a mocktail of prosecco and blood orange juice. And the amuse bouche—madeira mushrooms that were delicious (I wished for that recipe—some stations offered them, others did not). Probably my favorite was a schmear of lavender goat cheese on a white chocolate apricot crisp—I don’t need a recipe for that and will duplicate it at home. There was four-cheese lobster and mac (so rich!), butter boards (I’m through with them), sushi, lamb kofta meatballs, whipped ricotta with blistered cherry tomatoes on sourdough, brie en croute. One dessert I loved but Mary thought too sweet was brown butter maple blondies topped with vanilla bean gelato—for me, the gelato cut the sweetness. I do love maple and don’t get it often, don’t think to fix things with it. Remember maple sugar candy when you were a kid?

By the time we’d run the course, I had eaten way too much cheese, wasn’t hungry, but thought I’d need something. I brought home a twice-baked potato. Mary grabbed a crab cake dinner for two—Joe loves crab cake apparently,

When we went into the store, the temperature was in the high seventies, warm though windy. When we came out, it had fallen, in one hour, to the high fifties. We were both grateful for the sweaters we’d really thought unnecessary. I came home and switched from a/c to heat. Sophie greeted us by trying to sneak past my walker and out the door. We stopped her, but I was surprised—I really though t she had outgrown that. Mary said she was just trying to get to me, but I think Mary ascribes too high a motive to her.

At any rate, here I am, settled at home and glad to be. Mary and Joe have gone furniture shopping as their move from huge house to apartment looms ever closer, and I am at my desk. Just ate that potato—Central Market does a good job on them.

So it’s the weekend. Irene will have to wait while I write a column and make some more dipping spice to get ready for a dinner guest next week. Life is good.

Yet another day older

 

 My drawn-out birthday kind of hit its peak yesterday with the arrival of my four children, four of my seven grands (I had all the boys and none of the girls), and a wonderful b’day dinner last night. We had all talked all week about chores, and I had a list of things that needed doing around the cottage—the bulb replaced in the outdoor light, the filters in my a/c cleaned, some computer things. All got done, plus lots of visiting.

Ford, Kegan, Eden, Sawyer, and Jacob

The four boys—all so different in character and interests—enjoy being together, and when I see them trooping in and out of the house, in single file, I am reminded of that classic picture, much imitated, of the Beatles crossing the street. When not out doing whatever boys do once they have a car, they closet themselves in the back TV room at the house and spend but a bare few minutes with adults. Last night they went to a late movie, came home and turned on another movie. Jordan found couch spots for all four, and Colin and Lisa got Jacob’s bed. Here’s a picture of the boys, with their cousin Eden, taken a year ago. They’ve grown in so many ways in that one year, including taller.

My friends Jean and Renee joined us for dinner and were a hit with my four kids, who described them later as “interesting” and “good friends for you.” The menu was what I used to request as a kid: cold turkey (smoked, although I grew up on fresh), marinated vegetables, and potato salad. Poor Jordan labored long and hard over the potato salad Friday night—the first batch she’d ever made—and she nailed it. Her version of County Line potato salad was perfection. I did the vegetables (much easier than potato salad), and Christian got the turkey. For dessert? My favorite has moved from Black Forest Cake to chocolate mousse cake. Rich, but oh so good.

We lingered over cake, just as they all say, “hanging out.” About ten o’clock, I decided it was time for Sophie and me to go to the cottage. I intended to read a bit after I brushed my teeth and got into pjs, but there came Jordan, Megan, and Lisa, wine in hand. So we had a late-night girls’ talk. Lovely way to end a lovely day.

But my determination to count my blessings took a real hit during the night. Sophie does not go out during the night. She may get me up early in the morning, but she hasn’t needed to go out in the middle of the night for some time. I can tell the difference between, “I want to go out and chase squirrels and play,” and “I need to use the restroom now.” At two-thirty, her dance of clicking nails told me it was the latter, and I let her out. She disappeared into the shadows and was gone—for twenty-five minutes. I called and did everything I know except venturing into the dark overgrown strip between our house and the neighbors. Finally, I called Colin—no answer. Then I called Christian, then Jordan, and finally Colin again. He said, “Just a minute,” and hung up. Of course, that’s when Sophie came trotting onto the patio.

But she had to go out again at three-thirty and at four-thirty, so I thought she caught whatever stomach bug Cricket has had. Both times though she came right away after doing her business. And then she slept until I got up at 8:45. She didn’t ask for breakfast, and I didn’t offer it, figuring her stomach needed to settle. She's subdued today, and I'll call the vet first thing in the morning.

Pitiful Sophie

I decided in retrospect that the blessing was that at eighty-four I am fit and able enough to take care of a dog who needs to go out three times in the wee hours. When Sawyer came in this morning, he asked if I felt a year older and I told him, “No difference. And that’s good thing.” And the blessings are my family, my friends, my dog, my work, my health--even if sometimes the latter seems a bit iffy to others.

Have a happy week everyone.

The devil made her do it

Stalking a squirrel--a quite moment
but it didn't last long

Sophie woke me at six-gosh-awful-thirty this morning, with the devil in her soul. I let her out, got her back inside after about five minutes, and went happily back to bed. Happy did not last long. She was having none of this stay-in-the-house business. She barked, she whined, she squeaked, she batted her empty food dish about noisily, and then banged her empty water dish on the floor (I got up, refilled it, but that did not quiet her). I spoke firmly, I yelled, I said things I’m glad she couldn’t understand. She responded by bouncing against the bed repeatedly. I swore I was going to teach her a lesson and stay in bed until she quieted down. She won once again.

When Jordan came out, I said, “Sophie’s on a tear this morning.”

“I know. The whole neighborhood knows.”

We finally let her out, figuring she might have to pee, but no, she was hunting squirrels. At first, she was quiet, running all over the yard, but then she began yipping. And I began worrying. Running is in her blood—part border collie—and it’s great for her to get the exercise, but the last time she spent an entire morning running, she tore the pads on her feet and was in miserable pain. It was almost eleven in the morning before Jordan got her inside and only then on a leash.

All this is funny in the re-telling, but it has a serious side. She gets into a manic phase. Once she’s in this mood (it doesn’t happen often) and outside, no amount of my calling, offering cheese, anything will get her attention. And being bound to a walker, I can’t go out and chase her. She doesn’t, as I hoped she would, wear out. And I am powerless.

This afternoon, she was subdued, slept a lot, no sign of limping, etc. Reminded me of the down phase the manic/depressives experience, but it was only temporary. By gosh, when I let her out about four, she went right back to it. I am leery but will let her out about ten this evening, hoping the squirrels are all abed for the night. Can I explain to this darling dog that she is ten years old and should be settling down? She won’t care.

The rest of my day was definitely on the downside. Some odds and ends at my desk—why do they take so much time? A good long nap, grateful that Sophie also slept. My friend Mary Volcansek came for happy hour tonight and at her insistence brought the snacks—wonderful smoky Gouda and an artichoke dip that I ate too much of. We had a good, pre-Christmas visit. After she left, I snuck in a second brief  nap, something I rarely do, and so tonight finds me at my computer, once again doing odds and ends. A happy hour cancelled, Poobah business, book review business, and a bit of Christmas stuff. I need chocolate!

Sweet dreams, everyone.

 

Excitement, sort of

It doesn’t take much these days to make a day exciting, so I had an exciting day today—sort of. Actually got out of the house and off the property. Had t go have another ultrasound to see why my fat leg is still swollen. That in itself is not exciting—ultrasound is not painful or difficult, just kind of boring as you lie there wondering how much longer it’s going to take. This after we sat in the car a long time waiting to be called inside.

But oh the sights I saw on the way there—a house that I’d always admired, mostly because I could see through the window that it had terrific, packed bookcases, is suddenly gone, to be replaced by a McMansion I’m sure.. Another house on our route had disappeared but I couldn’t remember what was there. Crepe myrtles are in bloom, lawns still look mostly green—not yet brown from the heat though this last week may do it—and the city seemed pretty.

After the appointment, Jordan wanted to go to the cardiac vet’s office to pick up medication for June Bug. It’s way out on the south side of town, and she follows a devious route which I couldn’t trace if I had to. But it’s mostly on access roads, so when I said, ‘Jordan! My hearing aid is gone!” there was no way she could pull over. I called the imaging office and asked them to look—they even went through the trash, checking the paper that had been on the bed. Nothing. Jordan was thinking replacement cost; I was thinking difficulty in hearing, although I get along okay with one aid.

Finally, at the vet’s, we stopped under a wonderful and huge canopy that covers most of the parking spaces. I stepped out and we patted and poked at my clothes. Nothing. Then Jordan found it in the car seat. It had apparently fallen out when I took off my mask. It’s the one that does tend to slide out of the ear. Anyway, it was a great relief after a moment of panic.

I wanted to stop at my favorite sandwich shop on the way home and get something to take home for lunch. But Jordan looked online. They’ve only recently re-opened and now for take-out you have to call a day ahead. Who knows a day ahead that they’ll want a sandwich for lunch? Big disappointment.

All that excitement! When I got home, I was exhausted and had to have a nap. Sophie had other ideas, and then the lawn guy called to answer my questions about my new grass, which is lush and lovely and very shaggy—apparently, they don’t mow for two weeks after they put it in. He says he can take care of the nut grass scattered throughout..

Jean came for happy hour. Patio is maybe a bit warm but really not unpleasant, what with the fan going and the umbrella blocking that one bit of evening sun my shady patio gets. We talked of mice and men, of politics and masks, and all kinds of things. It’s so good to have a friend with whom I can say almost anything and who most of the time supports and agrees with me—and tells me when she doesn’t. We know each other’s families and concerns and joys. I’m the richer for her friendship.

With Jacob out of town, Jordan and Christian are having a “date night” tonight. With the pandemic, they can’t go out, so they’re grilling steaks at home. I planned to make myself a black bean casserole I’ve been wanting to try, until Jordan said, “Well, if you prefer black beans to steak. . . .” They had gotten a steak for me, so I’m enjoying it as I type. Made myself a small salad and that’s dinner. The steak is large, so I expect to have it for lunch tomorrow too.

‘Night all.

A birthday and a bag of trivia

Sorry I’ve been erratic about my blog but friends and family are gathering to help me celebrate my birthday this weekend, and I’ve been too tired from the festivities too post much. I am feeling the love and will post some pictures Sunday night—or more probably Monday morning.

Everyone knows it’s hot, so I won’t belabor the point except to say that I don’t know that I’ve ever seen honeysuckle wilt before. My poor fig tree, destined to come out someday anyway, is also drooping. We may lose it before we mean to.

Trivia knowledge for the day: Did you know that Mrs. Grundy is a common term used to denote a person who has conventional moral standards? I kept seeing references to Mrs. Grundy in the book on the Gilded Age that I’m studying, so I looked it up. No note as to whether or not she was ever a real person but feel free to drop her name casually in conversation. 

Quote for the day that really speaks for me: “I live at the intersection of politics and religion…. My faith impels me into the public square.” Sister of Social Services Simone Campbell, quoted in Richard Rohr’s daily meditation from the Center for Action and Contemplation.  

Lesson for the day learned the hard way: A daughter may be a daughter all of her life, but she won’t help you bone and dice the chicken. You’re on your own, Mom.

Last night, Sophie got into a run-and-chase game with her dog-cousin, Kosmo, Jamie’s three-month Pomeranian pup who is surprisingly fleet and was absolutely fascinated by Sophie’s bushy tail—he chased it, he chewed it, he couldn’t leave it alone. Everyone said, “She’ll sleep well tonight.” Not so. Instead of exhausted, she was energized. She went out twice after I came out to the cottage—the second time Jamie had to come out and entice her inside with his hamburger. But I no sooner got in bed than she began to bark to go out. I told myself she had no need—she just wanted to play.

I didn’t want to let her out because I’m not comfortable leaving her out unsupervised, especially in the dark, I can’t go chase her, and by then it was too late to ask anyone else to go get her. For thirty minutes, I swear, I ignored the barking. But finally, I erupted out of the covers and yelled at her more harshly than I ever have. She was astounded and stared at me in amazement, her tail wagging ever so slowly and ever so tentatively. She settled down—so I thought. But after a bit she started in again. Once when she’d been good for a while, I gave her a chew treat to occupy her. Worked for a bit.

At some point, when I just drifted off, something electronic beeped loudly, occasioning another round of barking. I thought it was the electricity saying goodbye, but when I looked the little light in the living room was still on. I think now it was my phone, sounded that close, and I wonder if it was an Amber Alert. No sign of it this morning.

We slept fitfully, and this morning she got me up at six-thirty. Now, bless her, she’s sleeping soundly, and we have sort of patched our differences.

Tonight, my extended family comes for barbecue. It’s been several years since we’ve had the family together. We will miss one niece and her family, but it will still be jolly.

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.

Friendships Old and New

 

This has been a day that made me realize all over again how blessed I am with friendships. This morning, a friend came by for a quick cup of coffee. She was someone I’d never met before, but we belong to a small Works-in-Progress chapter of the internet organization Story Circle Network. This WIP group is so small that we all become closely involved in each other’s lives—I’ve never been part of such a supportive group before. This morning Debra Winegarten was giving a program at the Fort Worth Women’s Club. For several reasons I couldn’t attend, so she came for coffee and what she called a “Judy sighting.” We had a delightful visit, and I can’t wait to do it again. And now, when I read Debra’s posts, I’ll feel like I know her even better.

Then tonight three old friends came for dinner—I fixed Italian tuna sandwiches: tuna on ciabatta rolls with a homemade really good pesto, tomato and hard-boiled egg. I used the good tuna I order from a cannery in Oregon, and I really think what gives that pesto its zing is the addition of anchovies. You can add them to a lot of dishes and people don’t know they’re eating anchovies (the automatic reflex is to say “I don’t eat them”) but they add a certain depth of taste.

I’ve known all three women for years, but we got to talking about the way we met—different circuitous paths. I met Subie through Women in Communication, a now defunct group, probably in the early ‘80s. We also both belonged to the same PEO chapter (an international philanthropic educational society) and soon became fast friends. I’m not sure how I met Kathie, except that it was undoubtedly through TCU where we both went to graduate school, and she was good friends with the man I then worked for. Kathie introduced me to Carol, who became one of our major authors at TCU Press. Now Kathie and Subie have met because they’re both docents at the Amon Carter Museum—although they’d known each other slightly before. Kathie, Carol, and I have had lunch and dinner together sporadically for years, and we’re delighted to have Subie back in Fort Worth and part of our merry little band.

The day said a lot to me about the nature of friendship and the way we make friends. Part of it I’m sure is being open to meeting new people but another part if that there are just some people with whom you click. It’s a little like falling in love—there’s no explanation for it. It just works.

As with family, I am blessed with friends. Going to sleep happy tonight.

Storm watch, lunch with an old friend, and a book triumph of sorts

After

Before

 
We are in the bated-breath stage waiting for the predicted PDS storm to hit us—I think those are the initials, and they stand for something like Possible Disastrous Storm or equally awful. Apparently, it’s a designation only rarely used. But they say we could have baseball-size hail, tornadoes and heavy rain. I worried about Jacob, because they didn’t call his baseball game, and he, always nervous about tornadoes, didn’t want to go play. But he and his mom are safely home.

Earlier this evening I sat on the deck—supposedly to think about my novel-n-progress but my mind wanders. The breeze was lovely but with that pre-storm feel, and the air had that funny color, not green, just different, that it gets before a storm. I could hear distant thunder to both the east and the west. But so far nothing has materialized. I hope I don’t have to eat those words.

I met an old friend for lunch today—except we’d never met. When he came in and recognized me, I said, “We haven’t ever met, have we?” and he said no, but we’d talked on the phone when he used to interview me and review my books (pre-social media, probably late ‘80s or early ‘90s). Years went by with no contact and then he friended me on Facebook—one of the beauties of that program is the friends you make.

Randy said he’d read enough about the Old Neighborhood Grill in my books that he wanted to try it. I said if we set a date, I’d meet him, and so today we met. Lots of fun. Wide-ranging talk, but a lot about kids, grandkids, and—gulp!—how we were handling our estates. But also some book talk—he’s a prolific author—and a collector way out of my range, with original art and first editions. Funny—both of us on canes and neither one of us can hear well, but we had a good time. Thanks, Randy.

Since the weather was to storm tonight, I had my usual Tuesday night supper for lunch—meatloaf, green beans, and mashed potatoes with cream gravy. Asked for a big to-go box but surprised myself by barely saving half the meatloaf and eating everything else on my plate. Great meatloaf sandwich tonight—my favorite.

Took such a sound nap I wasn’t sure I couldn’t get up in time for Jacob but I did. Jordan came along, in a tizzy about what to do about baseball and the storm. But we unpacked boxes of books and suddenly—the last one was done. We had unpacked 46 cartons of books damaged in the storm and sorted them into destroyed, saved, and barely damaged. Now to figure out what to do with them—her goal is to empty my dining table of the stacks and stacks of saved books. Damaged beyond saving are packaged to go to a recycling place and there are boxes for women’s shelters and schools. We of course had to toast our accomplishment, but she still has an ambitious agenda—clear the guest room (which we’ve used as a junk room) so the bunk beds can come in before Megan and Ford arrive.

Other than a brief period of anxiety this morning, all this activity has kept me feeling much better. Work, I’m convinced, is good for the soul.

What a lovely day!

I had a book signing this morning at my favorite spot--The Old Neighborhood Grill right down the street from my house. Seven in the morning is kind of early to get there--I was up at 5:30--but that's when readers come in. And a lot of my friend came for breakfast, which is down home and really good.
My younger son, Jamie, and his wife and two daughters came last night for the occasion.

We had a jolly good time at Joe T.'s for dinner. Above, Jamie's wife and my beloved DIL, Melanie on the left, and Jordan on the right. I am blessed with sweet girls who are also beautiful. I thought it was such a lovely evening with a breeze--then realized it was one of their giant fans blowing on us. Three grandchildren loved it--Jacob got to talk "serious" golf with his beloved Uncle Jamie; Eden entertained herself by sketching hands--she is really good and I foresee a career for our fashionista. (When I suggested she didn't need her sunglasses since it was already dark when we got there, she said, "They're part of the look." Eleven years old!). Maddie did what fifteen-year-olds do--busied herself on her phone. Here's me, leaning back at an awkward angle so everyone sees my double chin, with Eden and Jacob. Jacob has his "I know there's a camera" look on and Eden is just plain gorgeous--ok, I'm prejudiced.

 

This morning, Jordan was, as she always is, an enormous help. She plans my signings, down to flowers and sign up sheets and raffle drawings; she takes the money, gives change, and charms everybody. I was flattered that most of the people who bought books came exactly to do that, so the Grill got some extra business, not that they needed it. It was, as always on a Saturday morning, crowded. If you read my blog often, you will know about my friend Betty and our dinner adventures--here we are together at the signing this morning. She and her husband, Don, came for breakfast, but Don (a restaurateur, was disappointed that his friend Peter, who owns the Grill, wasn't there). I sold a nice number of books, had a great breakfast, and then we moved on--everyone but me went to Jacob's baseball game (they won! first time this season, and he scored a run or did something else wonderful--not sure about that) and I came home. The Frisco Alters came in about 12:30 with Burger King and Ernesto's (Jamie's favorite tacqueria). I ate cottage cheese--Mexican food once a week is enough for me! Then they left, and I did a little work at my desk and took a long nap--5:30 is too early for me!

Three grandchildren at the Grill--Eden, eleven, Maddie, fifteen (who can believe that?), and Jacob eight. With my longtime friend, Margaret, in the background.

But it was still a dog day--let the dogs out in shifts, with Luke second. Gave him a long lecture on not leaving the yard. (He'd been good earlier in the day.) Looked out after 15 minutes, and he was gone. Drove the neighborhood (while my quiche dried in the oven), finally gave up to come home--and found him across the street. When I called him, his look said, "Hi, Mom, am I glad to see you!" and he hopped right into the car. Calling my friendly contractor Monday morning for fence control. Meantime I have to babysit when he's outside, which means he spends a lot of time in his crate. Will be so glad when we're past this transitions period.

But all in all, a great day. My quiche wasn't too dried out--a bonus.