Sometimes a day is just about right

That’s what I was thinking this morning—that the day was just about right. It was warm but not unbearable, and the cottage still held its nighttime cool. I had the patio door open, and as I sat at my desk I almost felt like I was sitting in that dappled sunshine on the patio. Easy to daydream and forget to work, but I managed to write my thousand words for the day and get other chores done.

It amazes people who don’t know to learn that writing a book involves so much more than getting the story down on paper. If you’re an independent publisher as I am, you have to buy ISBN (International Standard Book Numbers) for each book and register them, so your book will end up in Books in Print. You have to edit, edit, edit, and proof, proof, proof. You send it to someone to format, so it won’t look amateurish. You have a designer do the cover. You write blurbs and pitches. If you have a web page, and every author should, you have to either post the new book there yourself or hire someone to do it. You mount the book on various digital platforms and, if you so choose, post to a service that will create print. The details are endless, and I’m in the midst of all of them---and having so much fun doing them.

If you’re seeking an agent and a publisher, it’s a whole different game, one that usually involves sending out endless query letters and waiting patiently for that one reply that says someone wants to represent your book or, glory be, publish it. I’ve gotten those letters, and they make not just your day but your world.

Either way, being an author involves a lot of scut work. It’s a way of life, and I love it.

It’s been a while since I had dinner with the neighborhood group at the Old Neighborhood Grill. Tonight, friend Mary Dulle took me and was kind enough to take Jacob and a friend with us. The boys refused to sit at the same table as the adults, but for the most part they were well behaved. I ordered meatloaf which was my standard meal for a long time. This time I left enough to bring home for a lunch sandwich tomorrow. The fellowship at the table was good, though much of the talk was about hip replacement surgery and a new technique which has a recovery period of something an astounding like two weeks. Made me feel bad that here I am still on a walker after six months, but I know my hip was an unusual situation, and I wouldn’t have been eligible for this new technique. One more time when I have to learn to be who I am and accept what I can and can’t do and stop comparing myself to others.

So on this just right day, a lesson learned again that I should have learned a long time ago.

Is this really October?

Almost midway into October and it was 95 degrees today. Something is out of kilter in the universe—well a lot of things are, but that is another subject. Still, it was a lovely pleasant day.

Jordan and I went to Central Market today since I still haven’t got my legs under me altogether. But, man, give me a grocery cart and watch me go. We each had fairly short lists, but I had promised Christian a steak dinner because he took such good care of me when Jordan was out of town, I needed a new two-burner cartridge for my stove, and my car was dead. So I bought filets for them and lamp chops for me.

We had a lovely evening—happy hour on the front porch while Christian grilled. The grill that all told me a few weeks ago had to be junked worked so efficiently, after Lewis Bundock cleaned it, that Christian got all the meat a bit more well done than he liked. So much for throwing out my grill.

We each had our meat, baked potato and salad—plus Jacob ate a whole head of broccoli (but only one bite of meat—my non-carnivore grandson). We had dinner on the deck and lingered over wine. I did as much as I could before they got here, but then Jordan took over, made the salad, plated the dinners—it was great.

I have to admit I’m tired tonight, but I walked around the house a lot without a cane and felt good about it. I think I’m on the road to getting my self-confidence back.

Jacob spent the evening catching geckos—they are our bug-eating friends and I hate to see them captured, but he came in at one point all excited about a really big gecko. Got a pint jar, poked holes in the lid (my good scissors, I’m afraid) and proudly showed it to me. After he left, I saw another big gecko (well, they don’t come too big) on the back screen and said, “I’m glad you escaped, big fellow.” I know, I raised boys. I should be used to this. But I think my sensibilities toward tiny creatures are different than they were thirty-five years ago.

All in all, a good day, and I am so grateful to my local children for all they do for me, and to my distant children for their concern. And guess what? I have a lamb chop left for supper tomorrow.

What hat am I wearing today?

Some days I feel like I wear a number of different hats. Today was one such day. It began with a dental appt. at 9:50--only the hygienist called at eight and wanted to know if I could be there by nine. I actually made it, throwing on yesterday's clothes, and was there ten minutes early. What I expected to be a long appointment wasn't, even with x-rays and a visit from the dentist. I was home shortly after ten, cleaned up odds and ends, had an early lunch and took a really early nap--noon--so I could be ready to go to a 2:00 funeral at the church.
Toni Newton was the assistant (read executive secretary, though I'm not sure she ever attained that title) for Chancellors Moudy and Tucker at TCU. I met her when my office was in the administration building but then I got to know her through church, the Church and the Arts Committee (which she claimed had more fun than any other committee--and she was right). Toni was one of the most upbeat people I've ever met--always cheerful, always welcoming, always concerned about you. Many of us said today, "Toni was always so good to me," but I always added, "and she was so good to my children." Once in high school my oldest daughter wanted to join the church, but she had never been baptized (long story) and didn't like the idea of immersion. Toni told her, "Oh, honey, just fudge. God won't care." She lived a full life, dying Nov. 22 at 97--someone said "Leave it to Toni to die on a day of national significance." For me, it was hard to see that wonderful, vibrant life summed up in a brief memorial service--but I was glad I went.
Home for a few minutes, intending to get Jacob and a friend by 4:15 but Jay came by with wine in his hand, and it was five before I got the boys and started them on homework--first we had to go back to Hayes' house because Jacob left his binder with all his homework. They actually worked diligently (well, pretty much) and I wonder if there might not be something to this shared homework. Then we went to meet the neighbors at the Grill--a big crowd. To my great joy both boys were well behaved, ate well, and didn't cause any fusses.
Hayes' parents came for him about 8:45--they'd been to a party--and it's all quiet now. Jacob is getting a last few minutes on his iPad.
Is it okay if I go to sleep as early as he does? I'm tired, but it's kind of nice to wear different hats--except maybe for the dentist. Nice as those people are, I always dread it, a hangover from my childhood. Otherwise, though I felt hurried, it was a good day.

The pleasure of being an author

Nothing is quite so much fun for an author as to speak to a small but responsive group. I had that fortunate experience today when Betty Bob Buckley invited me to speak to her PEO Chapter, a group of about twenty women. I asked what I should talk about and was met with a vague, "Your books." So I told the women how I got started writing--age ten--and my mis-steps and small triumphs along the way. And then I told them the story behind each of several books, ending of course with my two current mystery series. They laughed along the way and asked intelligent, pertinent questions afterwards. I sold several books--a goodly number for that size or audience and that occasion--and when we adjourned for lunch, conversation at my table was still lively--and still mostly about my writing. Lunch, made by the hostesses for the day, was delicious--chicken enchiladas served with Fritos (which I put on the enchiladas for a crispy contrast--so good!), guacamole, and Black Forest cake--my favorite ever dessert. And I got to visit with Betty Bob on the way over and back, so it was an all around plus event.
Some authors may think a group that small isn't worth the time, but I firmly believe it is. Some of the women who didn't buy today may show up at my book signing in a week--I passed out flyers. At least one woman told me she'd be ordering for her Nook, and others may well spread the word of mouth. Besides, I enjoyed myself.
After getting to the doctor at 8:30 this morning and then the luncheon speech, I was beat and wanted to crawl into bed but no such luck. Jacob brought a friend home--bless them, they cleaned the dog poop out of the back yard and gathered up the bottles left from the broken bottle tree (thank  you, Sophie!). Then I fed them ice cream and sparkling grape juice. They took turns being the bull and the rodeo clown, all of which was very noisy. The other grandparent and I sat and had a good visit as much as possible in the midst of the melee. When the boys went to the other end of the house and it grew too quiet, I went to investigate--they were at my desk (a no-no without me there) and Jacob was on the phone to his mom.
Max and his grandfather went home, Jordan arrived for a brief visit, and when they all departed, I felt like a deflated balloon. Treated myself to a tuna fish sandwich for supper--ah, heaven. I don't know that I've been all that busy but I do feel like I've been on a roller coaster.
Tomorrow is yet another busy day. I'm going to bed early--I always say that and never do it, but maybe tonight.
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