2024, here we come!

 

The cottage is cozy enough tonight that I can almost pretend there’s a raging snowstorm outside. Candles are flickering but the Christmas lights cast a steady colorful glow. Jordan and Christian have been here for a happy hour drink and gone on to a party. Jacob has with much excitement gone to a concert with some of his friends. Sophie, having gotten locked out by mistake—how could I?—is asleep in her crate. A pot of black-eyed peas simmers on the stove, and the dinner dishes are done. I indulged in paté for an appetizer, lobster salad and creamed spinach for the main meal, and chocolate caramels for that “touch of sweet” my long-ago mother-in-law always wanted. A lovely evening that I hope forecasts a much better year ahead. Like many of us, I am ready to kick 2023 to the gutter.

Do you make resolutions? I gave that up long ago, but I have prayers and goals. My main prayer, for me, is continued good health. At my age, I think that’s a biggie, and I don’t want any surprises. For my family, it is peace and joy and safety, especially as my grandchildren continue to branch off in individual directions. This year, Jacob and Sawyer will mark five either in college or already through—the oldest has graduated, has a responsible management job, her own apartment, and is living the grown-up life, a thing that much impresses me. Only two left in high school, both juniors.

For my friends, far and wide, near and dear, for whom I am most grateful, I wish good health, peace, and joy. I hope for continued connections and sharing of all that is good in life so that we have strength, together, for that which is not so good—and there’s a lot of that going around.

What can anyone wish for the world except peace? I remain horrified at not only the two wars that hold all our attention, but the regime changes and coups in small countries especially throughout Africa and South America—each rebellion, each regime change costs lives, and we all long for a world without strife and greed for either riches or power. And I wish justice for all the innocents who are caught up in violence, particularly the people of Israel and Gaza. I read today that 1200 Jewish citizens were killed in the Hamas raid; to date, 21,000 plus have died in Israel’s bloody revenge. I cannot believe that is the path to peace, and I am horrified.

At home, I pray for common sense in government, equal justice for all our citizens, and awareness for those who wear blinders. I want to see the “former guy” convicted and imprisoned, I want to do away with book banning and teacher censoring and school vouchers and flap over critical race theory. I pray the country comes to appreciate and understand the things the Biden administration has done for our country with the American Rescue Plan, the Infrastructure and Jobs Act, the Inflation Reduction Plan, the CHIPS and Science Act. America now is in better shape, its economy booming, than it has ever been, and I am proud to be part of that. I only wish those with blinders on could see.

My daughter recently told me I talk politics too much, and I replied that the reason we have a bitter divide between our people is that no one spoke up soon enough. So that is one of my goals: to continue to speak my mind, to work toward what I see as good for the country I love and, uphill battle as it is, for Texas, my home state now for fifty-five plus years and the place that gave me its history and literature to shape into my career. I cannot let Texas go to the narrow-minds who have imposed so many restrictions on us—and yet imposed none on guns. What crazy logic.

And perhaps that brings me to my personal goal for the coming year—I have two books to see to publication. One is what I see as the final Irene in Chicago Culinary Mystery, though one should never count Irene down and out. She is a force to be reckoned with and might one day again rise up and demand another book. But the other is the cookbook/food history study which looks at how the food of the Fifties, sometimes glorious, sometimes awful, has carried on to affect the way we eat today. It’s turning out to be a tribute to my mom, who in the Fifties taught me to cook. Over Christmas, with all my family together, I realized how much we still carry on Mom’s traditions.

So that’s me and 2024. How about you?

And, if you’re interested, here are a few more Santa Fe pictures. Counterclockwise; fresh snow, me with Maddie (my oldest grand) and her boyfriend Trevor, and me with the super margarita-making bartender named Juju. Sorry for the misalignment but t's the best I can do.

Walking goals and a pleasant visit

Teddy walked me the length of the driveway today, but the gas people were replacing sidewalk, so we couldn’t go to the stairs. I suggested we do a toe touch to the street instead, which we did. But this meant I didn’t have stairs to get back up the incline. He warned me to lean into it and use my body to help me go up, but I didn’t realize how hard it would be. Teddy’s wisdom: going down the incline is a psychological problem; going up, is a physical problem. Apparently, I used new muscles or at least those unused for a long time. By the time we got back to the cottage, I was winded…and hot!

But now I have two goals: to walk with a walking stick (not a cane) and to make it to the end of the driveway to meet friends who can’t drive up—and then back down—my skinny 1920s driveway. Teddy says at least two or three weeks before we try the walking stick, and that’s fine—I view it as a step toward walking independently. I could make it to the end of the driveway today with the walker, but that incline remains a psychological barrier.

My good, longtime friend Fred came for lunch today. He was my major professor in graduate school and has remained a friend ever since—that’s a lot of years. He reads and critiques everything I write, and I always feel like he’s a cheerleader. We lunch about once a month, discussing everything but politics (we agree, but it’s pointless) and mostly we talk about our writing projects. A true scholar, he is writing articles and reworking a manuscript on pioneer women in aviation. He is also one who does not handle my driveway well, and I won’t ask him to do that

So today I made turkey burgers and a wilted lettuce salad. Did your mom make wilted lettuce? Mine did. She’d take fresh leaf lettuce from the garden, douse it with a bit of vinegar and then pour warm bacon grease over it. Of course, crumbled bacon went into it too. It doesn’t wilt the lettuce but simply coats it with deliciousness. The first time I mentioned it to Christian he said, “I’ll pass,” but when I fixed it he said it was delicious. Turkey burgers not so much—I really like them at the Old Neighborhood Grill but have not been pleased with my two at-home attempts.

We topped lunch off with frozen peach custard—a sweet end to a meal. And we had a most enjoyable visit. Having had to stand me up for lunch two or three times, Fred tells me he’ll take me anywhere I want to go. So that’s my goal—to walk the driveway to his car so he can take me to lunch.

Goals are great. So far, I’m doing well with my thousand words a day goal, in spite of other things going on in my life. Christian paid me a great compliment the other night, and I wish I could remember the way he worded it. But he essentially said I have the best of both worlds—the world of the mind, because I work at my computer every day pretty much alone, and the world of a social life, because I love being with people. I am lucky, and I know it.