Storm watch, lunch with an old friend, and a book triumph of sorts

After

Before

 
We are in the bated-breath stage waiting for the predicted PDS storm to hit us—I think those are the initials, and they stand for something like Possible Disastrous Storm or equally awful. Apparently, it’s a designation only rarely used. But they say we could have baseball-size hail, tornadoes and heavy rain. I worried about Jacob, because they didn’t call his baseball game, and he, always nervous about tornadoes, didn’t want to go play. But he and his mom are safely home.

Earlier this evening I sat on the deck—supposedly to think about my novel-n-progress but my mind wanders. The breeze was lovely but with that pre-storm feel, and the air had that funny color, not green, just different, that it gets before a storm. I could hear distant thunder to both the east and the west. But so far nothing has materialized. I hope I don’t have to eat those words.

I met an old friend for lunch today—except we’d never met. When he came in and recognized me, I said, “We haven’t ever met, have we?” and he said no, but we’d talked on the phone when he used to interview me and review my books (pre-social media, probably late ‘80s or early ‘90s). Years went by with no contact and then he friended me on Facebook—one of the beauties of that program is the friends you make.

Randy said he’d read enough about the Old Neighborhood Grill in my books that he wanted to try it. I said if we set a date, I’d meet him, and so today we met. Lots of fun. Wide-ranging talk, but a lot about kids, grandkids, and—gulp!—how we were handling our estates. But also some book talk—he’s a prolific author—and a collector way out of my range, with original art and first editions. Funny—both of us on canes and neither one of us can hear well, but we had a good time. Thanks, Randy.

Since the weather was to storm tonight, I had my usual Tuesday night supper for lunch—meatloaf, green beans, and mashed potatoes with cream gravy. Asked for a big to-go box but surprised myself by barely saving half the meatloaf and eating everything else on my plate. Great meatloaf sandwich tonight—my favorite.

Took such a sound nap I wasn’t sure I couldn’t get up in time for Jacob but I did. Jordan came along, in a tizzy about what to do about baseball and the storm. But we unpacked boxes of books and suddenly—the last one was done. We had unpacked 46 cartons of books damaged in the storm and sorted them into destroyed, saved, and barely damaged. Now to figure out what to do with them—her goal is to empty my dining table of the stacks and stacks of saved books. Damaged beyond saving are packaged to go to a recycling place and there are boxes for women’s shelters and schools. We of course had to toast our accomplishment, but she still has an ambitious agenda—clear the guest room (which we’ve used as a junk room) so the bunk beds can come in before Megan and Ford arrive.

Other than a brief period of anxiety this morning, all this activity has kept me feeling much better. Work, I’m convinced, is good for the soul.

A tiring good day

Guess what, folks? Unboxing and sorting books is tiring. And that’s what I did all morning. A used book dealer is coming Friday morning, and the librarian/archivist friend who arranged this warned me to take out ahead of time the books I want to keep. We don’t want her to choose one only to have me say, “Oh, no. I want to keep that one.” So I did the long bookcase in my office this morning. I was amazed at how dusty the books were and how dirty I felt when I got through. Don’t know how thorough I was but I am getting ruthless. Some of my books are, I’m quite sure, collectors’ items for people who research the history of the American West, which I probably will never do again. But there are a couple, like Foster-Harris’ The Look of the Old West, that I can’t bear to part with.

Jordan also got two boxes from the dwindling stack of cartons for me to sort—they were supposedly saved, but some are well beyond recovery. I did those, so tonight she got two more boxes down. That and my lawyer’s bookcase are on the list for tomorrow.

Today, the groomer also came for Sophie. I love it—they pull up in front in a pickup with a trailer that has everything: water connections, heat and a/c, electricity. Sophie gets so excited when she sees that truck. And tonight she looks so pretty. And the restoration company sent two men to spot clean the places I’d found on the couch. So it was busy around here—probably just what this anxious soul needed.

Tonight my Canadian daughter (her real mom lives so far away, we’ve adopted each other on a make-do basis) and her partner came for happy hour. Lovely evening on the patio, and we had a good happy visit, laughing a lot. Jordan spent the afternoon at another mom’s house working on the kids’ group science project. She has threatened Jacob with death and destruction if he ever signs up for another group project. But they’re done! She came in and poured herself a most generous glass of wine.

And suddenly, I’d lost my starch. Was so tired I didn’t even want to think about supper. I had knocked a hard-boiled egg out of the fridge and cracked it, so decided I should eat it for supper. Too lazy to even devil it—just cut it in half and put salt on it. With cherry tomatoes and a big slice of heavily buttered Parmesan toast—and a bit of dark chocolate. Got my starch sort of back this evening (maybe I was just hungry) and did some good guest work.

If you read my newsletter or follow me on Facebook, you already know it’s party time Friday night at the Wine Haus, 1628 Park Place Avenue, to celebrate The Gilded Cage. Nope, you don’t have to buy a book—just tell me you’re happy for me. You’re on your own for wine, but I’ll provide snacks. Hope to see you there.

The weekend that wasn't meant to be

The weekend that I had anticipated with so much joy turned out to be a bust. Megan called this morning to say they weren’t coming. The game they wanted to see was rescheduled for three today, which they couldn’t make, and the weather forecast was frightening. She did not want to be on I35 with a nine-year-old in a hail storm. I of course wouldn’t want her to drive in those conditions, and I wasn’t really surprised. We have rescheduled for a weekend in May. But, yes, I was bummed.

Didn’t sleep well last night—scratchy throat, stuffy nose, aching leg, and of course terrible dark thoughts at three a.m. Turns out I didn’t feel much better this morning though I sis two loads of laundry, emptied the dishwasher and did sundry other household chores, without much enthusiasm. Jordan said she and Jacob were still coming for supper and we’d cook the salmon I bought for a celebratory feast. I thought I was feeling better until she arrived. I’m sure she wasn’t the trigger, but I began to cough and finally made a mad dash for the bathroom. After that I recovered a bit but thought how good it was Megan and Ford hadn’t come up.

We did not cook the salmon, froze it. I just didn’t feel up to either cooking or eating it, and Jordan plied me with water and gave me buttered rye toast. When I sat down next to Jacob at the table, he ostentatiously moved his plate and drink away and then said, “Well, Juju, you’re sick.”

Jordan and I unpacked and sorted some twenty cartons of books. Some went straight to the trash pile; others, damaged but still readable, will go to schools and women’s shelters. Some I will keep—they’re in good shape, and I’d like to have one copy of every book I’ve written. Jordan says she has a spread sheet. You can’t tell that we made progress, but we really did, and she feels much better about the books. Says we can whip through the remaining 20 boxes in a couple of nights—not so sure about that.

She also is keeping a spread sheet of costs and insurance reimbursements for the hail damage, and lectured me fairly severely for not telling her about the insurance check I deposited today. Nice to be in such capable hands.

Now they gone, leaving me with a glass of water and a diffuser with peppermint for nasal problems and lavender for soothing. Think I’ll read and go to bed early.

No rain yet. The rain blew up a while ago, showering Jacob as he watered porch plants that will be sheltered from the rain, but it seems to have died down again.