Surviving

 

Helen Corbitt cooking
Photo from the Texas History Portal

Feeling a little foolish about it, but I have to brag I survived the appointment at the ophthalmologist’s office. Bottom line is that nothing about my eyes has changed since the last visit. Surgery would probably make my vision a bit better, but there are risks, minimal, but still. Having had one “rare” eye disorder that required surgery, I am not willing to go there again. But the survival aspect is because I get really really nervous going to the eye doctor. As I’ve said, I feel like I’m failing an exam I should have studied for during the eye test. Today I had a kind, encouraging tech who kept saying, “Very good.” I thought I was acing it and was a bit deflated when the doctor said it showed no change from last year. The appointment was not quite as long as I anticipated—just under an hour and a half, which was good because Christian had to get me home, pick up Jordan, and get her to a noon hair appointment. It all worked perfectly. My only moment of losing it was leaving the office with my eyes dilated and the sunshine so bright—I suddenly felt like my knees wouldn’t hold up, so Christian obligingly pushed me the maybe six feet to the car. So glad that’s behind me. Now if I can just get past tomorrow’s dental appointment.

We had planned to celebrate Mary D.’s b’day a bit late tonight with a hot dog dinner—she loves hot dogs, and her husband, sweet Joe, doesn’t eat them. But Joe’s usual tennis night cancelled, and he came with her for happy hour. So we postponed the hot dog dinner for a week and served happy hour fare—Jordan brought roses and pink champagne and watermelon, and I whipped up a ham spread, which I thought was pretty good. So did Mary and Joe, but Jordan doesn’t do ham. Joe declared he enjoyed the evening, but poor guy, I’m not sure how. Much of it was about cooking and food.

Mary hosts demonstration cooking shows for the Silver Frogs, a senior community group from TCU, and she has arranged to do two sections on Helen Corbitt. She will cook, and I will fill in with facts and stories about Corbitt. (If you don’t know, Helen Corbitt was the doyenne of food service at Neiman Marcus stores in the late fifties and the sixties, but there was much more to her career, both before and after Neiman’s; a New York native, she literally transformed the Texas palate). So tonight we talked recipes—Texas caviar, which is one of her signature dishes; chicken broth, popovers, and strawberry butter, which is still served today to every dining guest at Neiman’s (I think only two Neiman Marcus restaurants survive—in Dallas and Fort Worth). Corbett was known for her extravagant use of butter, cream, and sugar—and then her spartan menus at the Greenhouse spa. Most of us don’t want to go the Greenhouse route, but we probably want to adjust a lot of her recipes to today’s standards.

Big political night, but I have turned off the TV late at night. Really, the primary results, with a few exceptions, don’t tell me much. I want to see what happens when progressive candidates go up against MAGA extremists (okay, loaded language on my part). I am glad Colin Allread won the nod to be the Democratic candidate for Texas Senator and hope to heaven he can get Ted Cruz out of our hair. Tonight, I am already weary of “Breaking News!” messages telling me Biden and Trump swept their primaries. That was a given, not breaking news, but it shows how hungry the media is for punch with their news. Tomorrow we’ll get a more sober reassessment of what both statewide and national results mean.

The political cause that engages my mind tonight is the Supreme Court and the obvious corruption, particularly from Justice Clarence Thomas. That he doesn’t recuse himself from cases dealing with Trump is inexcusable in light of his wife’s involvement in the January 6 insurrection. And I read an article today that pointed out that the relationship between Georgia’s Fani Willis and the prosecutor she hired is getting all sorts of attention while the Thomas’ relationship is getting none. Media bias is still a real thing.

Ah well, we won’t solve all that tonight. Sweet dreams.

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.