It’s going around

I really hate that phrase, “It’s going around.” Several people have said it to me, since I developed a head cold yesterday. I know they meant well, but no, I didn’t get what’s going around. I haven’t been out in public since we got home from New Mexico, so how could I catch it the dreaded “going around” disease. That always summons up an image of this huge bug floating around waiting for people to reach up and catch it. I refuse to reach. All that happened to me was I developed a head cold, which isn’t uncommon for this time of year.

Major problem: had to reschedule my eye surgery yet again, because I suspect they didn’t want me bringing my germs into the surgery suite. Besides, I was a little alarmed at the idea of sneezing or coughing during delicate eye surgery. So now it’s February 1.

I don’t feel all that bad, though I will admit that the idea of bed sounds good. But when I napped this afternoon, I felt worse than when I was up. I think it has to do with lying horizontal and sinus drainage. So bless my boys for talking me into a sleep numbers mattress—I’ll raise the head tonight and hope to sleep soundly.

Our neighborhood has an active internet list called the Buzz. Today it was buzzing with reports of a brindle dog seen here, there, and everywhere, obviously lost, probably scared. Tonight, those reports took on a warning tone as people described him as a pit bull. I worried that frightened people would turn their backs or call animal patrol. Thanks to Robin Fulton, a patron saint of lost dogs in this neighborhood—she has him safe, warm, fed and watered at her house and reports he is a sweet and scared guy.

A few years ago, Robin rescued a dog, part or all malamute if I had to guess, and placed it with a neighbor. Neighbor found she couldn’t keep him, so I called a friend in College Station. She sent me to “interview” the dog and subsequently came up to adopt him. Today she swears he is the best companion, sweetest boy—you get the drift.

So 2018 didn’t start much differently today. I was in my routine, so was our compound or household. I wrote my thousand words plus some, visited with a friend, did some paperwork. The faux president averaged an astounding 5.6 lies per day in the first 347 days of his presidency, including taking credit for no aviation catastrophes and completely overlooking that we have had none since 2009 and that record is due to the airlines and Federal regulation agencies. He had nothing to do with it.

I got to wondering today about Baron Trump. One thing the Trumps have done that I approve of is keep that child out of the spotlight. But do you suppose his middle name is Von? I mean, it just seems it should be Baron Von Trump. Or is that strains from The Sound of Music I’m hearing?

Setting the pattern for 2018

It’s here! The clean slate! The untouched year for which we each hope we can set our own course. Very deliberately today, I did three things I enjoy, three things I want to do a lot of in the coming year.

First on my list was to write. I have been haphazard, unscheduled about writing time in the last few months, and I want to get back to committing words to paper in a regular, daily I hope, fashion. I’ve changed my thinking from a daily word count to a scene a day—it actually comes out about the same, but somehow it’s better to think in scenes—I certainly wouldn’t quit in the middle of a scene just because I’d reached my word count. It’s also easier to plan ahead in terms of scenes. The current work-in-progress, is a Kelly O’Connell novel, as yet untitled.

The second thing on my bucket list was to read. I was nearing the end of Honeymoon with Murder, one of Carolyn Hart’s Death on Demand bookstore mysteries. I am a devoted fan of that series and not sure how I missed this one, but I apparently did. Enjoyed it immensely and was both glad and reluctant to finish it today. I always leave the world of a good mystery somewhat reluctantly, because I’ve become fond of the people in that world and felt at home there. But now I’m moving on to Death Come Quickly, the 22^nd (can you imagine that?) China Bayles Mystery by Susan Wittig Albert. So much to read, to little time to do it.

And the third thing was cooking. First thing this morning, before my cup of tea, before reading emails and Facebook, I started a pot of black-eyed peas. I asked for a ham hock when Christian went to the store yesterday, but he reported they were sold out and bought salt pork. So I cut the hunk of salt pork into smaller chunks (too lazy to really dice it) and browned them with the diced onion and garlic in the pot. Then I put in dried peas and water and let it simmer all morning—okay, it boiled once, but it’s not like pintos where if you let them boil they’ll give you gas. Peas are smaller and cook faster, so by noon they were done. The only seasoning I’d added, late in the cooking, was a half teaspoon each of black pepper and allspice. Turned them off, let them cool a bit, and refrigerated.

Tonight, I fished out the salt pork and threw it away; by then Christian had brought ham, which I cut into bite-size pieces and added to the pot. Lots of folks think collards should be added for optimum luck, but I don’t like collards, so I put in a can of cut green beans. No objections from any of my dinner guest—my immediate family of three. Served the peas with pot likker over rice. So good, and now we will feel lucky all year.

Another note on cooking: Christian made enough King Ranch chicken last night to feed the multitudes: two 9x13 pans, one for a family where there had been a death, another for the house, and a small one for me without bell pepper (isn’t he a good son-in-law?). Sometimes I think he makes cooking twice as hard as I do—I’ve never followed a recipe for King Ranch, let alone added bell pepper and cumin. I just cut up tortillas, diced onion and chicken sort of, and layered it in a casserole dish. Then I mixed cream of mushroom and cream of chicken soups and Rotel original tomatoes to taste, poured it over, and topped it with grated cheese. Christian read several recipes, added the cumin and peppers, and diced it all move finely than I ever had patience for. His stroke of genius? Since he left the peppers out of the smaller one, he added corn—great addition, so appropriate to the casserole, and so good with the other ingredients. Why didn’t I ever think of that?

So there you have it—the way I hope to spend my year: writing, reading, cooking. The only negative that I hope isn’t a pattern is that I am developing a head cold. I sneezed a lot the last few days. Today the sneezes are mostly gone, replaced by a lot of coughing, a slightly scratchy throat, and a runny nose. I don’t feel bad—maybe a little tired—but I’m not sure what these annoying symptoms will do to my eye surgery scheduled for Thursday. I’ll call the doctor’s office tomorrow. I’d hate to cough or sneeze in the middle of delicate eye surgery. A part of me is glad for another reason to postpone, but the logical part of me desperately wants to get it over with.

Sitting at my desk, looking at my curtain of sparkly green lights beyond the French doors. That’s how I want my year to be—sparkly with bright lights. I hope your year is too.