Blessing the students and other blessings

Jacob and Christian at Baylor, presumably on the stadium

After lollygagging for a couple of days, I got back to work today, which in itself is a small blessing. I blame my inertia on the heat, but the last couple of days I have conscientiously kept the outside doors closed and the a/c on 70, which made the cottage a bit chilly. Today I kicked it up to 72 and am comfortable, though my kids probably prefer the lower setting.

Wrote my summer newsletter today and found I had way more to say than I thought, plus I listed eight pictures to go in it. Waiting to hear from the webmaster who puts it together for me so I can send it off. Last I knew she had lost power, but that was from Hurricane Isiaih, a bit ago. Surely the power is back on.

If you do not get my newsletter and would like to receive it, please email me at j.alter@tcu.edu with your name and email. I promise it doesn’t come often, and I hope it’s interesting. If not, delete, delete, delete.

You know how churches occasionally have “Bless the animals” day? Everyone brings their pet to be blessed---I swear I heard of someone once bringing a skunk. It reminds me of when my children, as infants, were welcomed into the concerned community of the Unitarian Church (what I was doing at that church is a long and separate story). But when Jamie was to be welcomed, at around a year of age, someone brought their dog. The minister never missed a beat. After asking each set of parents, “How do you call your child?” he asked the dog owner, “How do you call your dog?” I forget the dog’s name, which may be the punch line of the story. I can remember clearly how both surprised and amused my brother was.

But I digress. Last night our church had a drive-through “Bless the students” evening to replace the usual school send-off event, now cancelled because of social distancing. I thought it was one more innovative way that the church is reaching out to keep us attached and involved until we can meet as a congregation again. Jordan took Jacob—they were only gone about ten minutes—and he came home with small gifts, including a leather key fob with his name on it. She said the youth minister chatted for a minute and then prayed with them—and she confessed she cried when he prayed about Jacob going to high school. He will be going to virtual school at least at first, as will my Austin sons. The Tomball two and Eden in Frisco will attend classes, so I am praying extra hard for their health. My Tomball daughter-in-law will also be in the classroom so she, too, has my prayers.

Tonight, the Burtons have gone to Baylor for supper—sounds like a long drive for supper, but Christian loves that campus and has passed that love on to Jacob. Jordan assured me the Baylor Club, where they have reservations, has a patio. I said it sounded awful hot to walk around the campus, but she says they’ll drive. When I said that I apparently gave away their surprise, because they hadn’t told Jacob about the outing yet. He perked up happily at the news. Meantime, Jean is coming for happy hour, and I’ll fix myself some leftover beef-and-bean and some squash, because they won’t eat squash. They’ll be home about dark.

Jacob and Jordan at a very empty Baylor Club

PS What I thought was a small zucchini, from my sister-in-law Cindy on the ranch, turned out to be a small cucumber. I had a larger very round squash—I don’t know the name—that I cooked with salt, pepper, panko and grated pecorino. Overcooked it, but it was delicious.

Lots of nothing—and maybe a lesson in political reconciliation

That’s the kind of week it’s been. Seems like there’s nothing going on, but really there’s been a lot.

Jacob went off to eighth grade Monday morning without notable enthusiasm for the prospect—he looked cute though. Temperature was forecast to be 102, so he wore his hoodie. Just in  case, I suppose. In Austin, grandsons Sawyer and Ford went back to school—eighth and seventh grades—and in Tomball, Kegan went to seventh and Morgan started her first year in high school. I tried to grab their first-day pictures from Facebook but couldn’t. In Frisco, Eden started her junior year in high school, while Maddie is junior at Colorado in Boulder. They’re growing so fast! I laughed at the friend who confessed she still thinks of Megan as a TCU student—only about twenty-eight years behind, but that friend moved away years ago and until recently didn’t keep in close touch. Nice to have her back in the fold.

School also started at Lily B. Clayton Elementary across the street from us and brought complications—the city has put up No Parking signs in front of our house, effective from 7:00-9:00 in the morning and 2:00-4:00 in the afternoon. For a three-car family, with a skinny 1920s driveway, that’s a real hardship. We also have new Stop signs, though thank goodness they are not in front of us. I don’t see how the No Parking is going to help—it should be down the street where the crossing guard is. An engineer from the city will meet with us “in the field” next week. Perhaps he’ll explain the logic.

Monday was much taken up by Jordan’s bad back and a doctor’s appointment. She has been referred to a specialist but won’t been seen until August 29. When you’re in the kind of pain she is, I’m sure that seems an eternity. There’s not much I can do to help, but I’m trying. Made Frito pie for everyone one night, and helped put together a big salad last night.

Tuesday I managed to get a whole lot done. Finished edits on my ranching history novel, and it has now gone back to the formatter for finishing touches. I’m excited about publishing it in September. And I put together what I think will be a huge issue of the Poohbah, Berkeley neighborhood newsletter. Lots of good stuff about who did what over the summer, back-to-school pictures, and marvelous photographs of the painted churches around Schulenburg plus the usual monthly features. Still tying up loose ends.

My former student, now a chef, came for lunch today and declared I had fixed the perfect light lunch. Always pleases me to get her culinary approval. Recipes will be on my cooking blog, http://www.gourmetonahotplate.blogspot.com, tomorrow. After lunch we had our own mini meeting of Better Angels, the group that tries to bring together people of opposing political views. I asked why she supports trump, and she said the economy is doing well. I fear that my protests that it’s not really healthy at all fell on deaf ears.

But on a lot of issues she agreed with me—the hilarious folly of this kerfuffle over buying Greenland, the unbelievable promise to the NRA’s LaPierre that background checks are off the table despite trump’s words at the times of the shootings in El Paso and Dayton. She’s not sure climate change is real and says there are two sides, doesn’t believe we could lose the earth, while I think it is desperate. We agree that we need health care reform and immigration reform—pre-existing conditions might be a deal-breaker for her, and she says trump is not the kind of person she’d ever sit down and have a beer with.  It astounds me that given that she still thinks he’s the person to run the country. We kept it light, but that is hard for me because I feel so intensely about the earth’s current situation. I did find that she was unaware of several things I mentioned—one of the reasons I keep posting on Facebook. We need an informed voting populace.

I have one other friend that I haven’t seen since trump took office because I can’t bear her support for him. I don’t know if I have the strength for reconciliation there, but today was a lesson for me.

Tonight, a relaxing dinner with Betty at the Tavern.

How much things have changed

Back to school

A rainy morning as I write the blog I intended to write last night, my thoughts full of seven grandchildren going back to school this week. I’m particularly celebrating Miss Morgan Helene of Tomball, who turned into a teenager yesterday—that all-important thirteenth birthday—and starts eighth grade today. Her brother, Kegan, had a soccer tournament which he said he wanted to win for her birthday—and he did! Thirteen is such a wonderful age—sometimes so grown up but, thank goodness, still many times a kid. Morgan requested flannel one-piece pjs for her birthday, thinking ahead to how cozy they’ll be on their annual ski vacation. If she can think that in August, more power to her!

Joining Morgan and Kegan in the back-to-school rush are two boys in Austin, a high schooler in Frisco and her big sister, a university student in Colorado. And finally my local homeboy, Jacob who starts seventh grade and, over my loud protests, will play tackle football. Perhaps that is why I dreamt I went to get him at some kind of athletic practice (and my dog—don’t know how the dog got in there) and found him in a bloody bandage. Then he sort of disappeared from my dream as it turned out I had brought home the wrong dog—one with straight fur on its ears and not Sophie’s doodle curls. I think that came from marveling at Sophie’s ears yesterday.

I hope the school year for all of them is off to a better start than my dream would suggest. They are all wonderful children (what else?) and I wish them the many blessings school can bring—knowledge, friendship, lessons in life.

Went to church yesterday via the computer which I do more often than I like. I have become a believer in sitting in the front row of church. My family were always back-of-the-church people, but Christian has converted me to sitting right up front, where I can be sure both God and the preacher see me. Nonetheless, yesterday I was confined to signing my name on the roster of those who attended remotely.

The sermon, part of a series based on Ephesians, was “Words Matter,” and at one point the minister said no one in his family ever, not ever uses the word “hate”—they don’t hate people, they don’t hate broccoli—you get the idea. I remember a conversation with a grandson along the similar lines. He, a young Sophist, suggested it was a bit weak to say, “I dislike a tight collar.” I wish I had been firmer about the evils of hate—the ugly, nasty, destructive feelings the mere use of the word unleashes. A good lesson with which to start the school year.

May the school year be blessed for you and all the students you care about.

School daze continues

Yesterday Jacob and five other boys went to play at one boy’s house—first day of school, no homework, back together again. Needless to say, they had a blast—and one result was one of the cutest pictures I’ve seen in a long time. Oh to be nine and carefree again.

Today three of those boys came home with Jacob. I thought, “Well, I’ve raised four. I can handle this.” What I didn’t figure was my four were never all boys and all nine years old at the same time. The energy is astounding and a bit intimidating. They played in the front yard, voices at the top of their lungs, and then trooped through the house to the backyard. I asked Jacob to use the pooper scooper first but I have no guarantee that he did that. He and Hayes did take my garbage carts to the curb for me, which was great. Then I corralled them for snacks, which were noisily consumed.

I mentioned that what I had been told was they would do homework—they disappeared into the back room, where it was relatively quiet for a bit, and then they solemnly told me they’d done a spelling test. See my skeptical expression.  Then it was outside, inside, noisy, suspiciously quiet. Fortunately Jordan arrived about 4:10 to take charge.

After a bit two of the boys were picked up, and Jordan went home, so I was left for our usual Tuesday night supper at the Grill with Jacob and Hayes. We first went and picked up suppers for Subie and Phil—he had eyelid surgery today, felt medium, apparently looked worse, and wasn’t going out. Then we went back to the Grill met a couple of neighbors and had a good dinner. Cheese quesadilla for me. I’d been urging Jacob to try one and he refused; when he saw mine he said, “I’m getting that next time.” I shared with him.

Now we’re quietly at home, almost ready to settle down. In some ways, I’m glad to have the school year started, but I’m also glad Jacob has been told no play dates tomorrow. Straight home and to homework. Fourth grade may be a long year.

 

Back to school

Today was back to school for most schools across the country, a day for sharing those memorable back to school pictures. Like any proud grandparent, I’m pleased to show the gallery.

First up, Morgan and Kegan Alter of Tomball, Texas, with their beautiful mom, Lisa, who teaches in the Tomball ISD. I haven’t seen them in a while, and Kegan particularly has grown.

 

 

 

 

Then the Austin boys, Sawyer on the left, and Ford on the right. A real contrast in types. Sawyer is a dedicated guitar player—note the long hair—and Ford is all about sports. They look like twins, but Sawyer is a year and a half older than his brother.

 

 

Then the Frisco girls—Eden, going into seventh grade; missing is big sister Maddie, who will be a junior in high school and had some off-campus program this morning. Who can keep up with teenagers?

And finally Jacob, going into fourth grade and quite happy about it. He started off the school year by going to play with friends and declared it a good day. He too looks so much older, though I see him most every day.

Am I a proud grandma? With this crew, you betcha!

For me, it was a day back into routine. I had to be up early to go with Jacob and his parents to meet the teacher, since I am the pick-up person. His classroom is on the lower level and in the corner farthest possible from my house. I’m hoping to work up some rainy day pick-up plans so I don’t have to trek down those staircases. Today, a sunny day so humid it felt like the Caribbean, I met him outside only to learn he wanted to go home with friends. From now on, we’re making those arrangements a day ahead! He had minimal homework but I know that’s coming next. They tell me fourth grade is not as bad as third, and I surely hope that’s true.

On the bright side, I’m looking forward to this year getting me out of my lazy summer doldrums when I stayed inside so much.

Measuring Life by Meals

No blog last night—first night I missed since my July 22 announcement that I was collecting a year of blogs—from birthday to birthday. Last night I just had too good a time, company stayed later than usual (though Jordan, bless her, cleaned the kitchen), and I probably had an extra glass of wine. We were sending Jacob off to camp, though he decamped from the adult company rather quickly. Jordan, our friend Chandry, Jay, and I had another salad supper—we’re really enjoying those.

Today, Jordan and Christian took Jacob to camp. She emailed to ask if I had her lemon oil (no), then it was her sunglasses (no, but I offered the Baylor water glass she’d left behind). Eventually she found what she was missing, and when I suggested she was a mess, she said of course she was: she was getting ready to drop her boy off for a week. I can just hear the talks he’s getting about being a good camper, etc.

I’m sad that summer is winding down—school starts two weeks from tomorrow, and no matter the temperature—it will be hot—that signals the end of summer to me, the end of lazy days and long naps, the start again of responsibility. Makes me feel like a kid. Besides, it was August before I really got into the hang of summer—watering plants every morning, closing shades against afternoon sun. Temperature here? 104.

Today is a long day at home, though not without work to do. Still I like to enliven my long days with varied menus. I plan what I’ll eat. So today I had leftover layered salad for lunch—love finding chunks of egg white in that dressing. Tonight I’ll pile crab salad on toast, cover with a bit of grated cheese, lay asparagus across it and top with thin sliced Monterrey Jack, and broil. Rich but good. To me, such planning ahead beats standing with the refrigerator door open, staring blankly at the contents, and wondering what to eat. I admit I anticipate meals, especially good ones.

Finished reading Leslie Budewitz’s Butter Off Dead and will write a review later. I liked the novel a lot and was particularly struck by how climate—i.e. hard Montana winters—controlled much of the action. Then first edits came back on “Murder at Peacock Mansion” so that will also be a today project. Lazy days aren’t always lazy.

Postscript: The laugh’s on me. I had balked at buying $8.50 canned crab at Central Market and was delighted to find Chicken of the Sea at Albertson’s for $3.49. Only tonight, luckily before I opened it, I discovered I bought canned tiny shrimp. Not what I wanted. In fact I’m allergic to shrimp. So there went the dinner I’d been anticipating all day. Cooked some of the asparagus—tiny, tender stalks that cook in three minutes—and defrosted a salmon pasty from the freezer (homemade). Delicious dinner—just not what my anticipation dial had been set at.

Summer--where is time going

It's beginning to dawn on me that summer is half over. The schools recessed in early June and will take up the new year August 24 (I think). So we're halfway through summer. In North Texas, we haven't hit 100 degrees yet, but it's coming Monday and Tuesday. Still, for us, it's a mild summer.
And for me, it's a pleasant summer--I can eat late lunches, take late naps, and not go across the street at three o'clock to pick up my grandson. I've enjoyed having my own schedule and being slightly lazy.
I haven't really been slacking off though. I'm reading Murder at the Mansion (I've decided to all it Murder at the Peacock Mansion--more zing, and peacocks figure in the story) for the second time to edit; I've sent off the index for the chili book; and second edits on the Chicago book are waiting for me. I'm rolling right along and happy about it.
Jordan and Jacob have still come for happy hour many days, so I've gotten my child and grandchild fix--would the others were so close that I could do that with all of them. All in all, so far it's been a lovely summer, and I'm reluctant to see it pass.
I always hark back to that line from 17th-century poet Andrew Marvell: "But at my back I always hear time's winged chariot drawing near." I sometimes wonder if age makes time pass more quickly, just when you'd like to slow time down. I'm usually amazed when the weekend comes around--where did the week go? And this month I face another birthday, another reminder that I am far from a spring chicken.  People say to be grateful that you woke up this morning instead of the alternative, and I do feel that. But somehow I want to cling to each precious moment. And they go by too fast.
A good friend came for supper tonight--green noodles (with mushrooms, artichoke hearts, lemon, scallions, and a bit of pesto) plus fruit salad and sliced tomatoes--good dinner! But out life views are so different. I forget what I said but she replied, "So what? If it's your time, it's your time." I said I wasn't ready to go yet, but she scoffed. Then we got to talking about possessions--she, much younger than I, intends to get rid of everything in her house so her children won't have to sort through it. I said I loved being surrounded by furniture, paintings, books etc. with memories and meaning to me. She scoffed again. "It's just stuff." No, it's not--it's the wingback chair my mom always sat in and the bed my parents slept in and the autographed books and the lamps my mom had and....I could go on and on. I like my "stuff." I have a list of what kid wants what, but I realize someday they'll have a lot to deal with. Meantime, I'm busy and happy.
Okay, August, hold off a bit, would you please? And that winged chariot--don't hurry.

Just what Sunday should be

My marinated veggies, ready to give as gifts

 

Today was everything a Sunday should be. Went to 11:00 church--wore my high tops, after a moment's pause, but as I left an older woman (probably my age) commented how much she liked them. I said I'd worried about wearing them to church, and she said good for you! The text and sermon were about the Wise Men and their gifts. Since Epiphany is Tuesday night, I hoped Jacob heard at least part of the message, so he'd understand why we celebrate...and what we celebrate: the gift of our dedication to God.
Home for lunch, kitchen work--bottled my marinated veggies, emptied the dishwasher, set the table--and then a good long, deep nap. I thought the Burtons would be here about six--they didn't arrive until almost seven because they'd been watching the Cowboys game in a local hangout. Not a good excuse in my book, but we all made nice, had happy hour--I pulled some blue cheese ball out of the freezer. And then dinner--the spaghetti I'd labored over last night and simmered all day today. Good, if I do say so myself. Jacob, the little pill, refused to eat green noodles with butter. I used a recipe I've used many times before--just never noticed it called for green noodles.
Now, at ten o'clock, the dishes are done, the dog is fed, and I'm sleepy. Reading a book I don't like at all, so don't know how long I'll last tonight.
School starts tomorrow, I have lunch plans every day but Monday, dinner plans three days--we're back into the whirl of usual activities. Almost seems the holidays were more calm. Cold weather all this week.

Back to routine

Routine, they say, is good for you, and I believe it. Now that school has started, I expect to be on a schedule and much more productive--don't ask me in a month. But gone are the days of sleeping late and long naps. It's the school year. 
I started what I hope will be a routine--morning errands to a minimum so I can work, a brief nap after lunch, and Jacob at three. Then work again in the evening. Already my schedule is going awry--dinner plans Monday through Thursday this week.
I did my yoga routine this morning for the first time in over ten days. Felt really good and energized--of course by now, at 8:30, I'm exhausted and ready for bed. But I honestly think a week away refreshed me--I am less anxious, more self-confident, less shaky, more sure-footed. Hope it lasts. Meantime my desk is overflowing with projects, and I'm behind each day before I even begin. Better than what I thought retirement was going to be--bo-ring!
All my chickens started school today. I have a cute picture of the Tomball Alter children, Morgan and Kegan, but somehow I couldn't save it. They started a new school today, in a new town where they have no friends--yet. From the smiles on their faces, I know they'll make friends soon. Morgan will be taking karate, Kegan playing soccer, and they'll be in the midst of things.
Jacob, eight, had his picture taken in the same spot he's had it taken for four years now. By the time he enrolls in fifth grade, his dad plans to have a whole album chronicling his growth. The Austin boys didn't want summer to end, but they were excited about school. That's Ford to the left, below Jacob, and Sawyer below that. Sawyer is ten and Ford is seven. Whoo! Hard to arrange these pictures attractively.

 

Procrastinating

Erma Bombeck, one of my heroines, once wrote that she'd rather scrub floors than look at a blank piece of paper in her typewriter. Poor Erma, I think she did all her writing before the age of the computer, but I fully understand and agree with her sentiment. I hate that blank screen.
In January, feeling big and bold, I wrote about 4500 words on a new novel--oh, good, only 64,500 to go! I was off to a gangbusters start on my 1,000 words-a-day goal. But then a manuscript I'd committed to edit came across my desk; then a manuscript of my own flew back and I dealt with edits, proofreading two more times (I am almost but not quite tired of the story--good thing I think it's worthwhile), and I got lost in the machinations of preparing to self-publish that one. And then the manuscript with first edits came back. My 4,500 words lay untouched.
Every weekend I said to myself, "This is the week I get back to that manuscript." But it didn't happen. I am fully capable of spending a morning with email, Facebook, the newspaper (skinny as it is these days), and yoga. Then, oops!, it's time for lunch with a friend. Then home for a bit more FB and it's time for a nap. I go pick Jacob up, we do homework, and who can revisit a novel in progress in the time left between five and six at night? And evenings, either I went out to dinner or I had that compelling book I was reading. Even tonight, I'm reading a book I've agreed to review.
But this morning I said to myself firmly, "Today is the day." I'm actually a pretty organized person and compulsive about what's on my desk, but when Jacob was here today I found myself making grocery lists, prowling through recipes, fiddling. I was procrastinating.
Tonight I finally read that 4500 words over, appalled at the typos--like different words, "next" for "night" and so on. I went through it and slowly began to feel myself drawn into the story. I wrote about 600 new words--not a great record for a day, but I figure it's a good start.  Tomorrow I'll get back into the groove--of course, there's the grocery store (that list, you know) and Jacob's last day of school before spring break. But next week, with school out, wash my dust...maybe!

The first day of school--and some trivia

Actually, I think Jacob looks apprehensive,

and I look grim.

We both got over it.

 

Yesterday got away from me, what with welcome calls to make for the church, corrections on a manuscript I’m editing, a blog I forgot I had to write (which sent me scurrying to the kitchen this morning so I’d have a casserole to take a picture of), and an occasional spell with my work-in-progress. No Judy’s Stew.

But those of you who read this regularly know I wouldn’t forget the first day of school. I sent good wishes to all my grandchildren—have had responses from two families. Megan reported before the fact that her boys were really excited, and Jamie and Mel both reported that the girls were excited (though Maddie, at fourteen, pretended to be blasé) and ended up the first night fighting over space at the kitchen table to do homework. The year is under way.

Of course, I was most involved in Jacob’s first day. In fact, I had orders to be in the driveway, dressed and “cute,” by 7:50 yesterday morning. Trailed along while Jordan took Jacob to his new classroom—she would have forgotten to introduce me to the teacher as the afternoon pick-up person if I didn’t remind her. But all went well, and Jacob seemed quite happy in his classroom. He has a teacher we didn’t know, but she said she’d seen him in the halls and was delighted to have him in her class.

Maybe I forgot to write about it because I had to rush him home, shove a chocolate pudding into him, and make him brush his teeth, so he could head off to the dentist with his dad. Today it was less of a rush but still a time crunch to get him ready for Little League practice. Poor kid said, “I just want to quit everything but school.” I bit my tongue to keep from saying, “Amen.”

Today when he was changing clothes, Jacob had a bit of an attitude—okay, a lot of attitude. I’ll wait out the week but there’s going to be a new regime around here. Jordan keeps saying, “You’re were so tough as a mom. What happened to you?” I don’t think I was really that tough, but she seems to think it’s a good thing.

Meantime, I made progress today on the work-in-progress and even came up with a new title. How does Living with Secrets strike you? And I did make a good casserole—look for it Thursday on http://www.Chickletsinthekitchen.com. Yes, I’ll remind everyone. And the exterminator came—we sincerely hope he took care of the rats, but I’m pleased that he was extra careful of my dog’s safety. Final achievement—and this is Elizabeth’s—we ordered a case of our special tuna and a case of salmon from the Pisces cannery. My pocket book is depleted but my salivary anticipation is high. I’ll post about that special fish sometime.

Peace and a happy evening to all. I’m off to the Old Neighborhood Grill for neighbors’ night. Pork cutlets sound so good. Notice how often food crosses my mind?