Crazy old dog lady

 

Sophie waiting for company.

Now I’ve done it. I have successfully defined myself as a crazy old dog lady. And it’s all Sophie’s fault for being the extraordinarily smart dog she is. I know most dog owners will tell you theirs is the smartest dog, but I really mean it with Soph. After all, she’s a deliberate cross of a miniature poodle and an Australian shepherd.

For one thing, she has an inner clock that would put the world clock to shame. She knows to the minute when it is time to start reminding me, gently at first and then more forcefully, when it is time for her to eat. Since some days she eats seven times (small snacks, to coordinate her insulin shots), that’s a lot to keep track of. But she does it.

There’s nothing Soph likes better than company. I guess she gets bored with my company. Happy hour is her happiest time of day, and she’s been known to sit staring at the gate, waiting to see who shows up. When someone arrives, almost anyone, she is convinced they came specifically to see her.

It’s that urge to party that made me look like a crazy lady. We have learned, through hard lesson, that Sophie knows when I leave her to go off the property. Then I can get away with, “Be good. We’ll be right back.” Colin has been known to say, “No, we’re never coming back,” but she knows he’s teasing her.

But there’s no fooling her when I go into the main house for a party—and she is not going to be left behind, if she has to tear down a door. It’s taken two people to accomplish it, and then I was worried the whole time I was inside. So now I just take her. With maybe four guests, its fine. She calms right down, prowls under the dining room table for crumbs, and sometimes sleeps peacefully.

But last night was a party for Christian’s birthday, with a max of thirty people expected. That’s a lot of coming and going through the front door, and one of our fears is that she’ll slip out. In her younger days, Sophie had a wild urge to head north to Canada. These days, I think she’s realizes she has it pretty good where she is and won’t play door dash, but none of us want to take a chance. The other thing is that, unsupervised, she’d love to graze the buffet table, clean any plates left on low tables, and generally make a nuisance of herself in search of food. Since her diabetes diagnosis, she takes just enough prednisone to make her ravenous all the time.

So I took her leash inside with me. When guests arrived last night, there I sat,  leash in hand. Sophie strained to greet each new person and was generally rewarded with some gesture of affection. These wee mostly people who have visited in the cottage and know and love both of us (how blessed I am! And I love them each and all). So each would stop, speak with Sophie, give her a hug, and then move on to hug me.

But there were a few outliers, people that don’t know us well, and I suddenly realized, siting there, they must think I am one of those crazy old ladies who can’t go anywhere without her dog. The kind who carry the dog in a purse or shopping bag. The kind who have small dogs for support dogs. Believe me, it’s the other way around—I was supporting Sophie’s people addiction. Of course, no one said anything, and everybody was kind to Sophie, so this categorization of me could be all in my imagination. But I am attached to that little creature.

And if I look at her and ask, “Are you ready to go home?” her ears perk up and she hads for the back door. Party’s over. For us, it ends pretty early, and we are both happy to be back in the quiet of our cottage.

Party's over.

Mesmerized by a squirrel

Sue Lyon Springfield
New US citizen, new US voter

This morning I sat and stared at a squirrel for the longest time. He perched on the half wall outside my French door and appeared to be staring at me, though I know he couldn’t see me. But he was motionless, and the longer he stayed, the more I was mesmerized. Both of us stared, as though frozen in time and space. And then, with a sudden flip of his tail, he was gone. They are, I admit reluctantly, such cute little creatures. I wish they weren’t so numerous and so destructive.

It was a lovely day today, harbinger of spring just around the corner. In the low eighties with bright, sunny skies, and that pale green of new buds on the trees. The redbuds are beginning to bud, and tonight I saw a dogwood with faint blossoms. Our Chinese pistache is slow to bloom, but Christian scraped a piece of bark, found green, and pronounced it healthy. It’s still early March, and I cling to the almanac wisdom that says March 15 is the first date it’s safe to plant without fear of frost. Jordan and I need to make lists of herbs for my moveable garden and plants for the pots—fountain grass in two, but we may try some other things too. I’d like sweet potato vine in the two urns outside my door, with something in the middle—but what? Choosing plants is half the fun this season.

Tonight Jordan, Christian, and I went to a party—a rare occurrence these days for me. The occasion was a celebration of my Canadian daughter’s US citizenship. (I’ve explained that relationship many times, but here goes again: her mom is in Ottawa, Ontario, so I am her FW mom, because every girl needs a mom close by.) Sue, Canadian by birth, never showed much interest in changing her citizenship, or so I thought. When I’d bemoan the fact that she couldn’t vote, she’d say something like, “It’s hard to give up your country” or “I’m still Canadian at heart.” She has probably lived here close to twenty-five years.

So I was surprised this winter when she announced she was studying to take the citizenship test. Apparently, there are some hundred study questions. And then one day, she took her test, which turned out to be an oral interview where she was asked ten questions. I am quite sure she now knows more about our constitution than I ever will. She passed, of course, although she admitted to more nervousness than expected.

Then it was some time before the swearing-in ceremony which she shared with a hundred or so others. Sue, who is not a sentimental person, was quite moved by the ceremony.

She also instantly became an enthusiastic voter and is excited about getting to vote in local elections this spring. In a heavy political discussion one evening she asked me if I thought there was corruption at polling places, and I said it was always possible. And that I thought in some cases there was voter intimidation. She sort of jumped to the defense of those who work voter registration, reminded me they are all volunteers, and said when she goes to vote she’s going to thank every one of them personally. I think maybe all of us should take the citizenship class and test over again, just to remind us of the importance and privilege of voting. Sue sure gets it right.

The party was lots of fun, with doors wide open to the yard on this spring-like night and a duo playing mostly soft jazz in the back yard. I hadn’t seen the yard in a while—last time I was there it was winter and dark and I couldn’t see outside. But it is lovely with a small pool, a fire pit, a huge dining table, and lots of paving around a center patch of grass. I did what none of us should do at a party, visited with those I usually see frequently, though I hadn’t seen Subie and Phil in a long time—she had knee surgery and couldn’t drive, and I couldn’t drive to them. And Renee has been out of town. I did greet some neighbors and people I knew and met some new folk, including a couple who were devoted Elmer Kelton fans and raved about his classic novel, The Time It Never Rained. My kind of reader, since Elmer, as an author and as a friend, was a favorite of mine. I guess Sue must have told them.

All in all, it was a lovely evening, lovely party, and nice to be out among folk.

Is next week spring break for you and yours?  Plans? I’ll be right here, watching the traffic as people from all over head to our world-class zoo. Most of the year I love living down the street from the zoo, but during spring break, especially on half-price day, we are virtually prisoners in our own house. I’m trying hard to be a good sport and think of all those kid who are going to have the joy of a day at the zoo.

Life is good.

The house birthday party

 

Lovely house party tonight with about forty guests. They fell into two basic categories—friends Jordan grew up with who have wholeheartedly made Christian part of their circle, and the old folks—my friends. The mingling was great, and as one guest said to me, “The energy of this group is really wonderful.” It was fun, for me, to visit with people I’ve know forty or fifty years—and one guy I probably hadn’t seen in twenty-five (a longtime friend brought him)—but also to visit with friends who’ve become part of my close circle in the last few years. And to watch the interaction of kids—okay, they’re not kids any more but that’s how I think of them, because most go back to their high school days. They may not want to think this, but they are now all middle-aged (shhh! Don’t tell Jordan). Several of them—including one of my sons, two sons-in-law, and the boy I always call my extra child—turn fifty this year. The one thing all those here tonight have in common is memories of good times at this house.

Jordan and Julia
accidentally wore the same dresses

Christian gave a lovely toast to the house, stressing how it had sheltered me in the main house and now in the cottage. He talked about how the cottage has sheltered others, including my sons, one of whom was here tonight, and a couple of newly divorced women—one of them was here too, in fact the one who gave my current home the name, “The Cottage.” Then he said he thought he came late to porch parties, but he was so glad he was part of them. Everyone raised a toast—a lovely moment.

One girl brought up the engagement party that Christian arranged when he proposed to Jordan—perhaps the porch party to outdo all others. He arranged for Jordan to be shopping in Dallas and spent the day cooking a huge pot of meatballs, writing notes so she had to go on a hunt, and finally enticing her out to the then-empty cottage. She crossed a path strewn with rose petals only to find him waiting in a tux. He got down on his knee and formally proposed. What neither of them knew was the Jordan’s siblings were hidden in the house—and bunches of her friends were at a house down the street, just waiting to come. We had sixty people—including a lot of kids—and we ended sitting on the lawn and singing old familiar songs. Yes, this house holds good memories.

I had two of my four tonight
Jordan and Jamie

I spent the evening on the patio, and at one point looked up to see Melanie, my Frisco daughter-in-law come out the door. Such great joy! She and Jamie are busy professionals, and I hadn’t dared hope they would come.

So tonight I am filled with gratitude for all the blessings of my life. One neighbor said I was “Queen Juju” holding court. It wasn’t like that, but I did stay on the patio and guests came to greet me—even mobility problems have their good sides. But to think that as I age, I am so surrounded by people that I love and who I love in return—such a blessing. I hope I can be worthy of all the attention I get.

All the credit for tonight's party goes to Jordan. People raved about how great the house looked, how wonderful the food. And it was all Jordan's planning and doing. I like to think she learned from her mother.

PS: Sophie had a grand time going from one to the other for love. Many of those here tonight were people she, like me, knows and adores. She is now tapped out in her favorite spot, tired but happy. I’ll follow her soon.

Working the room

Last night there was a wedding reception for some of Jordan’s closest friends. They married some months ago in a small, family ceremony and just had the reception last night at La Puertita (the chapel) at Joe T. Garcia’s. I was pleased to be invited, though Jordan had some words of caution. Basically, she said she and Christian would “park” me at a table while they mingled and socialized. In my day, we called that “working the room,” basically moving around the room, chatting briefly with this one and that, never getting caught in a long conversation, meeting new people. A networking skill that takes a bit of practice, but before the walker I was pretty good at it. (Maybe I should divide my life into before and after the walker—naw, I have better divisions.)

True to her promise, they parked me at the first table inside the door, and I was a captive because Jordan folded my walker and stuck it against a wall out of my reach. I need not have worried about solitude though—since I couldn’t work the room, much of the room came to me. I am so blessed to be friends with many of my children’s friends. A steady stream of people came to give me a hug, sit for a minute in the chair next to me, share people-watching with me. The bride’s mother, whom I’ve met, came over to make sure someone would fetch me a cheese nacho, and the bride’s father, whom I’d not met, came and sat for a chat. So did both her sisters, and the groom wandered over twice to be sure I was taken care of.

A couple of wives I’d not met—both from our neighborhood—came to chat, saying they knew all about me and my books (nice bit of flattery) and one husband I’m fond of settled in for a political discussion (we agree heartily!). Jordan’s BFF, David, was solo because his wife was in Dallas, so he sat next to me for longer periods of time. He’d wander away—to work the room, I suppose—and then come back, and we shared some good laughs.

When the buffet opened, Jordan brought me a plate (how could she forget I love those beans?). David and Christian settled on one side of me, Jordan and Amye on the other,  with Marj and Colman across the table, and I met some folks, also around the table who were new to me. The food was predictable and familiar—it’s good to have “the dinner” every once in a while.

The young people dropped me off at home about 9:30 and went on to party, although the bride had suggested I could party with them and be the designated driver. David pointed to my glass of wine and said, “Too late for that.” I was glad to be home but oh so glad I went to the party.

It was a social weekend. Friday night, some new neighbors came for supper. Jordan, Christian, and I collaborated on the cooking—she made mashed potatoes, he roasted a tenderloin and made sauces, and I made a big, green salad that, believe it or not, sits in the fridge overnight, plus a goat cheese/wasabi appetizer. We had fun getting to know these people—seems when you first meet people you always have so much to talk about. She is a stay-at-home mom of four (I could relate to that) and he, a surgeon at the county hospital, so we had a bit of talk about the new medical school. All in all, lots of fun—and, again, lots of laughter.

Now to settle down to work.

Chandry and Jordan showing off their high heels.

How do they walk in those things?

New music and old friends

Phil Green and me in what seem to be

our assigned spots at Burton parties

Such a lovely day today! This morning, Jacob and I went to church, just the two of us. He is the perfect escort—takes care of stashing my walker, holds my purse, generally looks after me. Our church always has glorious music, especially during the holidays, but today was a special event—the debut of a new composition for choir and orchestra, with the composer in the congregation. It was smashing—and I don’t just mean the brass sections. It truly was a magnificent musical experience. And I was one proud grandma to have Jacob in church with me.

Linda Powell and Nancy O'Shea

We go back together a lot of years

s

Tonight, Christian and Jordan had a few neighbors in, along with two of my longtime
friends—both women who, like me, had been doctors’ wives back in the day. They are special to me, and I loved visiting with them. Our next-door neighbors, a young couple who are both physicians, are also hunters, and they brought duck cooked several ways with fancy tags telling us what was what (I passed on the poppers with jalapeno).

Roast duck breast

Delicious. Christian made his drunken meatballs, and there were salads, a rice dish (mine), a potato dish, a corn pudding, which is something I’ve been wanting to make. Jordan made her wine cake recipe that is always a hit. Nice, casual, easy evening.

My new rug

The drunken meatballs remind me—Jacob was trying to tell me about some drinks that had been partially drunk. He said, “They’d been drinken.” Then he thought that didn’t sound right and he said, “Dranken.” I suggested “Drunk.” And so we invented a new conjugation: drinken, dranken, drunk.

And a highlight of my weekend: a new rug for my living area. Sophie, who is never sick and is perfectly housebroken, had a stomach attack of something beyond her control and delivered the coup de gras to the rug that’s been in the cottage fifteen years or more. It’s cheaper to buy a new rug than to send the old one to the cleaners, a fact that smacks of conspicuous consumption to me.  But the old rug appeared beyond saving, so I ordered a new one—Amazon has everything! The one I chose was a bold change for me—colorful to say the least—so I asked Christian’s opinion, and he was enthusiastic. (Tonight, he took credit for picking it, but I reminded him I picked it; he only approved.) Anyway, so far it has met with approval from everyone I’ve dragged out to look at it.

No work done today. Tomorrow will be a work day—and I have promised the family a taco salad, and I have gingerbread to make. ‘Tis the holidays, and I love it.

Love is in the air

Wow, just wow! I’m not quite sure how to describe this evening. Tender, touching, exciting? Jordan’s good friend and a boy (man?) I’ve know probably thirty years, proposed to his girlfriend tonight. Wait! It gets better. He dropped to his knee on the 18^th Hole of the Colonial Country Club Golf Course, with an audience of thirty or forty people watching from the Sky Room, an upper room with expansive windows directly overlooking the 18^th. The only person who didn’t know in advance was Kelly, the bride-to-be. And she was suitably surprised.

Jordan and David

Jordan has lots of close girlfriends, but David may be her BFF. They dated briefly in high school and have remained close ever since. I have always considered David a member of the family, although he has his own close-knit family, of whom I’m very fond. So Jordan was involved in this from the get-go. She went with David to pick out the ring; she met with his parents to plan the party; and she threatened me within an inch of my life if I breathed a word, even to Sophie, before tonight.

Secrecy worked. When I asked Kelly if she expected this, she said not today. They both knew that marriage was in their future and had talked about it, but David’s elaborate planning caught her off-guard. He had even gone so far as to have golf balls imprinted with “Will you marry me?” When they got to the 18^th hole, her dad put the balls in the hole, she went to hold the flag for someone, looked down, and then looked at David. That’s when he dropped to his knee and proposed.

Those imprinted golf ball

Keepsakes, I'm sure

Later I told him I was incredibly proud of him, doing that in front of what he knew was a huge audience, and he said, “I’m proud of me too.” I thought it was a pressure situation to do what he did knowing all those people were watching. We cheered and clapped, but of course they could not see or hear us. Afterward, we milled around, drank wine, and ate hors d’oevres.

Turns out I know Kelly’s grandmother and her mother from our local PEO chapter, now dissolved. But it was good to see them again, and I had a great chat with her father, who is a good friend of a man I used to work for. We veered off into talk about medicine as a vocation and all sorts of other things.

I thoroughly enjoyed the evening, but it was one of those that frustrated me because my walker and I were often left alone at a table—even Jacob wouldn’t come sit with me. Were I mobile, I’d have been up, “working” the room, but I had to sit and wait for people to come to me—which several did. Some of Jordan’s friends of whom I’m particularly fond were there, and it was fun to see them. Jacob was impressed by the proposal and the reception when David and Kelly entered the room to claps and cheers, but other than that he was bored and ready to go home. I watched him though, and he chatted amiably with adults he’d never met. Gets his people skills from his parents..

A happy blending of two individuals and two families. May God bless them.

A monumental day in other ways. I am so impressed by the March for Our Lives across the country and the fact that there were only a few puny counter-demonstrations. Incredibly proud of my fifteen-year-old granddaughter, Eden, for marching with her mom and holding a sign high though I couldn’t tell from pictures what the sign said.

And Jordan planted the things we bought—pictures of that tomorrow. Spring—and love—really are in the air.

Me with David's parents and, far left, a family friend who

grew up on my street, as did David's dad

Festivities and rainy clouds

With Maddie, her mom Mel, and sister Eden

Cloudy rainy day, the kind that’s good for a book and a long nap. It’s not cold—in the 70s—but I have felt chilled all day, and curling up in a comforter was a treat.

Last night the Burtons and I went to Frisco for granddaughter Maddie’s graduation party.  Love having even most of my family together—we were missing the Tomball Alters, but Megan, Brandon, Sawyer and Ford arrived there shortly after we did. Burgers by the pool, good company, and lots of happiness for Maddie who heads to Colorado University (Boulder) in the fall. This summer, she’ll work and do an internship.

I had been straightening and sorting files the other day and found one in which I had saved Maddie’s very early artwork—those scribbled pictures, first attempts at writing, “I love you, Juju,” and especially an essay she did for TAAS on why her grandmother was a role model for her. That folder was her graduation present, and she seemed pleased as she grinned and leafed through it, promised to study the contents more carefully when she had time. I’m afraid it’s the sort of thing you do for first grandchildren, and I don’t have similar folders for the six still to come along through high school.

Always so proud of my grandchildren—they really are wonderful. But boys will be boys—Ford and Jacob were throwing a baseball on the front lawn when Ford missed the ball, it hit a curbside brick mailbox, ricocheted and gave him a black left eye with considerable swelling. This morning it didn’t look as bad as we all anticipated, but it hurt him to open it. He wore sunglasses to brunch and, with his long, lank build and blonde hair, looked very much the incognito child movie star.

We had a late brunch at one of my favorite restaurants, but it was freezing cold. I had brought a jacket, but Meg went out to the car for a blanket to wrap around herself, and we think we saw a party leave without ordering because they were so cold. Wish restaurants would get that message. I know wait staff hurries and scurries and gets hot, but I think they’re about pleasing customers, aren’t they? The long season of cold restaurants is just about to begin.

Megan and family left for the drive back to Austin, Jordan and family went to the golf tournament, and I settled down for that book and nap. For dinner, I’ll sauté a lamb cop and some zucchini. A good day.

Tonight, a flag flies at the foot of my driveway, courtesy the Fort Worth South Side Rotary. Let us all stop our busy lives long enough to honor those who have given their lives for our country.

A rainy launch day

Today is the official launch day for The Gilded Cage, but as so often with such things it feels a bit anti-climactic because I’ve been talking about the book so much. Still it’s been a good day—Amazon helped me boost it. One of my friends got an email from them announcing publication, so I gather others did too. Then they asked if I wanted to promote it to my Amazon friends and I of course said yes. So I presume they sent out another announcement with a blurb.

No launch party today. It will be April 29—Fort Worth folks, mark your calendars (and please note some of you may have gotten an earlier mistaken date—it’s Friday, not Thursday). Five to seven p.m. at The Wine Haus, 1628 Park Place Avenue, Fort Worth, 76110. You’re on your own for wine but I will provide snacks. Let’s party! I’ll for sure be reminding folks again. I’ve already heard from several who say they’ll be there and some who have ordered the book because they can’t come. It’s on Amazon—but do come party. I’d love to see you.

Today I’m worried about my kids and grandkids in Tomball, about 40 miles northwest of Houston. The picture above is a composite of their property looks like—lake high, half-finished swimming pool full of rain water. The last picture is what happened when my grandson put buttermilk on his cereal. Makes me laugh. They tell me they are okay, all stayed home today including my workaholic son. Only problem is a roof leak which he optimistically says is no big deal. Houston has been declared a disaster—much worse there than in Tomball, and even Austin had a two-hour school delay.

Rain is gone for now here but apparently coming back. We had lots of thunder in the night, so I had a dog curled up on my bed. Now it’s just gray and dreary. My day was brightened by lunch with my good friend Melinda—felt like a happy camper after food, wine, and sociability, and came home and unpacked three more boxes of books. Goal for today is five. Many of those I found today were beyond hope.

Miles to go before I sleep. Must unpack two more boxes of books, do my yoga, and write 500 words on the new wip. So I’m signing off.