Cabin Fever

I have cabin fever tonight. I’ve been blessedly free of that, content to stay home with my computer and books, but tonight I’m antsy. The Burtons have gone to a birthday party; I had a brief happy hour on the patio with Jordan but then she had to leave. Not that I didn’t have a sociability day—to the bank to sign some papers, to Local Foods Kitchen, one of my new favorite places, to pick up something for lunch—actually got egg salad (great) and lemony burssel sprouts slaw (not so great) for lunch and a turkey burger with pesto, goat and provolone cheese, and a tomato slices. Well-seasoned burger, and I hate half of it for supper. Jordan had never been to Local Foods, and I knew she’d love it—all those quinoa salads, etc. They had my favorite beet and orange salad in the display case, but I read somewhere that beets are one of three foods you should avoid—probably on Facebook and probably apocryphal.

Then we went to preview a neighbor’s “stuff” for the neighborhood garage sale tomorrow. I got some kitchen utensils to replace those I’ve lost in the shuffle—tongs, a good metal spatula, a ladle. Jordan added things I neither need nor have room for—a baby crockpot, an outrageous large, square purple candle (okay I know we’re TCU fans but still….), a stress reliever (small foam cow you squeeze) which I think I should give her, and tags for labeling potted plants—those are definitely for her unless we get some herbs.

Just after I finished lunch, John, my brother, and Cindy arrived—I had a b’day present for him, a coffee table book on the historic Hyde Park and Kenwood neighborhoods in Chicago, with plenty of pictures including one of the house we grew up in. Lots of places I remembered and some that I was puzzled that I don’t. John was enormously pleased, more than I expected, and that delighted me. I think he’s getting sentimental in old age.

They brought with them their German Shepherd pup, Buddy, now 16 weeks or more—gangly, growing baby with big feet and one ear that isn’t quite ready to stand up straight. Docile, well-behaved, definitely spoiled. They argue about which of them is doing the spoiling, but I think they are both a bit besotted—who isn’t by a puppy? I thought he and Sophie would play well and they did at first, but something changed and she was not happy about him. I was afraid, as I know John was, that she’d go after that floppy ear, and finally we put both dogs on leashes. Totally unlike Sophie and I will speak to her about company manners.

But tonight I miss the company that used to come for happy hour and linger half the evening. It’s not all bad—I am making progress reading the unfinished manuscript of the sequel to The Perfect Coed and actually liking it. But I’m edgy.

I think cabin fever is yet another sign of healing. Okay, back to my manuscript.

Lovely quiet weekend

 

Juju and Jojo at happy hour tonight
I look like an old lady but please bear in mind
no make up, no nothing--it was a lazy day

Absolutely wonderful weekend, in spite of a garage sale. Jordan is, as a friend said, the queen of garage sales. She had almost everything out by six-fifteen Saturday morning when Christian arrived. I slept on until almost 8:30, got up and wandered outside. Not a lot of action, and it was chilly, so I spent most of the day at my desk. They wrapped it up about noon and headed for Goodwill. Then they disappeared, came back about 3:30 and left again. I worked at my desk, napped and got a lot done. Marinated tuna (Totino’s—try it!) and spinach for supper.

Today was much the same, although I made a batch of sloppy Joe in the morning. I’m sure I’ve said this in a blog before, but my recipe is actually one called a wine casserole. I decided tonight I like it better plain than in a sandwich. Every once in a while I get a longing for it. It’s one of the few meat dishes Jacob likes, but tonight, just back from a weekend in Austin with his paternal grandparents, he was too tired to eat.



cartons of damaged books waiting to be sorted

Long discussion at the dinner table about my boxed books. In spite of Blackmon Mooring’s best efforts, they are dry, cover mostly okay, but pages warped. We have to unpack forty-six cartons, look at every book, and inventory them. Right now they are stacked in my dining room. Jordan, who worked so hard to organize them before the hail storm, gets a new attack of frustration every time she looks at them. Christian and I have both agreed to spend evenings sorting. I’ll need to dig out some recipes to cook supper for them on those evenings. I think a good plan for the children’s books is to donate them to the school district and take a tax deduction.

Tomorrow people come to pick up three beds we won’t need, and sometimes this week the floor people start on the floor in the sunroom. We’re making progress. The hail storm sure messed up our grand plan, but I guess it did for a lot of people and I can’t whine.



Living in chaos

My dining room; if you look hard, you can see a table

This morning I was reluctant to get out of bed. After my sleep marathon on Sunday, I’ve noticed I’m slow to get out of bed and anxious to return to it. So of course my mind leapt to the extreme conclusion: I’m depressed. Isn’t that what they say about people who spend their days and nights in bed? In truth, I’d get impatient lying abed if I weren’t so darn tired.

I lay there and thought about it and decided that of course I want to avoid the world—specifically the house—I’m living in, because it’s chaos.

Jordan and I have three challenges—downsizing, hail damage, and a weekend garage sale. She does the lion’s share of the work but goes home at night to a relatively organized home and goes to work. She’s not with this mess 24/7. When that realization came to me, I got out of bed and went about my day, but it was a hectic day.

Lewis, the contractor, came to look at the claims adjustor’s report; the restoration company delivered 47 cartons (the inventory says 37) of supposedly salvaged books—we will have to examine all of them. Jordan said she’d do it tomorrow, and I hooted. It will take weeks! I made appointments with AT&T—the U-Verse box is out due to water damage—and with an exterminator because the claims adjustor said we have rat (live, not dead) the size of a small dog in the attic. My day was full of busy stuff like that.

Last night Jordan went through lots of cupboards pulling out things for the garage sale, so they are now on every available surface in the house. Plus things from her house are scattered all over, in bags, in the dining room, my bedroom. And then there are those cartons of books in my dining room. It’s a freakin’ disaster.

My guest room; no, the antique trike is not for sale

 

Using my cane, I wend my way through boxes and piles. This afternoon I sorted two bags of books and determined that most can go to Saturday’s garage sale. That’s another thing—I hate garage sales and hide in the house during them. This is a project for Jordan and neighbor Jay—I suspect Christian is fervently hoping that Jacob has a Sat. morning baseball game.

And remodeling speculation and anticipation goes on. Lewis delivered an estimate yesterday and it is high, as I expected, but we found some places where we could cut corners. He’s waiting for an okay from all my children before he spends the money for a city permit.

Lesson I’ve learned from this: when I was 40 and 50 I served dinner to 20, more or less, every Sunday night; in my sixties, I entertained frequently, with elaborate dinners like coquilles St. Jacques; I’m now in my late 70s and I can’t do it anymore and shouldn’t beat myself up for not doing it. Nor should I nurture my guilt over feeling tired. I am tired. Chaos wears you out. I’m going to bed early, with the sure knowledge I got a lot done today.

Update on Luke

Sophie and Luke aren't exactly best friends yet but they have progressed to playing tug of war, which is really cute. Accompanied by blood-curdling growls on Sophie's part and silent concentration from Luke. For the first week or so, he didn't bark, and I thought we had a non-barker. I've since learned that's typical of rescue dogs. Now he barks a lot because he takes his responsibilities as guardian of the house very seriously--sometimes in the middle of the night. Last night Jordan spent the night, and Luke went wild when she got up to use the bathroom, then again at 5:30 a.m. when she got up to organize their garage sale (read on). Unless I'm quieting him, Luke barks at strangers, and he still barks at Jacob, which scares Jacob particularly when he gets in and out of bed with Luke in his crate.
But Luke is adapting to the house. If Sophie didn't provoke him, he'd be a great house dog--well, with a little training and relaxation. He frequently paces from room to room, though occasionally he'll settle down by my side. When he's off wandering in the house I have to watch because he has trouble discriminating what is his from what is mine--a remote is one victim. Forget rubber toys--those left over that Scooby had for years and Sophie has had for three and a half are now destroyed. Knotted ropes work best, as in the picture above.
Luke loves his crate--maybe because I sometimes feed him there (he's always ravenous), maybe because other times I lure him there with his pills wrapped in a bit of cheese, and possibly because it's a refuge from Sophie. But he happily goes prancing in and doesn't try to escape while I fiddle with the door.
I've had Luke four weeks and two days, and I think he's a different dog--beginning to feel more comfortable. When he barks, I praise and reassure him, and I spend some time just stroking his head and face (I don't want anyone else to do that!) and telling him he really does live here.
Today was the great garage sale--my street gets much more traffic than theirs, so Jordan and Christian beg and plead and I give in. My house was a disaster the last two days, filled with more junk than I can imagine. I did just what I threatened--hid in the house all day. Because the kids were in and out, I left the dogs in the back yard until early afternoon. Amazing the amount of work I got done--including getting a needed picture of a Coney Island dog before I served it to Christian. Kids think they did fairly well on the sale though there's a lot left. Anyone want a '50s modern wood table with an inlaid dentil pattern on the ends of the drop-down leaves? If I had room, I'd keep it. Jordan and Christian are exhausted. I feel just fine, thank you very much. And here's another shot from last night:

A joyful day

After a couple of woe-filled days, I’ve had a joyful day today. I truly live in a wonderful neighborhood, and one of the things that makes it so wonderful is the neighborhood spirit for Lily B. Clayton Elementary School, right across from my front porch. This morning they had their annual Walkathon—both a fund-raiser for PTO activities and a good exercise to prove that the kids, even little ones, can walk a mile. Christian walked with Jacob, as he has every year. Subie and Phil came from a few blocks away, and we had a watch party—complete with coffee and dogs. Neighbor Margaret Johnson came to get Sophie for a walk, but Sophie was so excited by all the turmoil, I was terrified she’d pull Margaret down. They had a good walk but Margaret confessed her arm was tired when she got back.

The high school band played, police cars blocked the streets, and tons of neighbors turned out to watch. Band players jived (is that the right word?), danced and kicked, and the atmosphere was truly festive. As Phil said, “I never realized so many children went to that school.” They kept coming and kept coming, but it was a joyful, exciting occasion. Each child was to wear a red Lily B. T-shirt. Jacob buried his under a green Baylor sweatshirt because he was cold—that child who’s always too hot. It was a lovely way to start the day. Subie and Phil left after the walkers had gotten underway, but I told them later the return was much less tightly packed, more loosely organized as kids seemed to scatter everywhere. Still, order came out of chaos, and I assume they spent the rest of the day being studious

At noon, my brother John and sister-in-law Cindy came to get me and we went to Carshon’s Deli where we met my niece Jenn and her youngest daughter, Maddie. Talk about a flirty-girty, beautiful charmer! I was absolutely entranced by that three-year-old child. Loved my lunch (half a tongue sandwich) and the company was even better. A real treat. John walked into my house announcing he wanted to see the killer dog—so he and Cindy waited until I got Luke calmed down and then came out on the porch. They did it just right—ignored him, though he got to the point he wanted to jump on them and came around to visit several times. Also sniffed their dogs’ smell on them.

Tonight Jordan is preparing for the garage sale of the century—in my front yard because there’s so much more traffic than in their neighborhood. I cannot begin to tell you what my house looks like except that I pray it will all be gone tomorrow. Cindy walked in and said, “Oh my God!” Christian has gone home so he can be back here at 5:30 a.m. I am hoping to sleep through much of this. Tonight I fixed them hamburger patties in a butter/shallot/red wine/beef broth/cognac sauce—so good but next time I’ll double the sauce. Baked potatoes and salad—great meal, even if the service wasn’t elegant, given the circumstances. A part of me hates to put a sour cream container on the table!

Now, Luke and I are hiding in my office while she prices things. Going to bed very early tonight and hiding all morning tomorrow. Life is good.