The good, the bad, and let’s not talk about it

Jacob’s school had something called Color Blast today. It means for a few minutes eighth graders can run around and throw packets of color powder at each other. Sounds like fun, no? No. Not to me, but he reported he had a blast, and he sure looks like one happy kid, although he was looking forward to a long, hot shower.

For me it’s been a couple of good-and-bad days. You ever have a day when you just don’t feel quite right? That was me yesterday. I woke in the night feeling queasy, sat up, and coughed a lot to make the feeling go away. Sophie was so concerned that she came and stayed on the bed for a while. Then she apparently decided I would survive and went back to her safe spot—her crate.

Yesterday, food didn’t interest me, and I didn’t eat much. My stomach was just a tad off, not even enough to say I didn’t feel well, and I had just the tiniest twinge of a headache—nothing worth complaining about. I did what I needed to do at my desk to get the day started—checking emails, clearing up some details on small projects. But work on my manuscript? Nah. I wasn’t there.

The good? I blew off most of the day and lost myself in a mystery novel by Susan Wittig Albert—one of many China Bayles mysteries I missed when it first came out. Reading a China Bayles novel is, for me, like visiting old friends. I know the people, I know the community, and I’m quickly drawn into whatever is happening to them. This was Nighshade, a novel that involves deep corporate corruption, murder disguised as accidents and suicide, an old family problem. I was thoroughly engrossed and hated to come to the end, though I admired the way Albert worked in personal growth for China. Not a bad way to spend an off day.

Today I felt much better, attacked the editing of my manuscript with enthusiasm, and think I made a bit of progress on the first chapter—making the chronology clearer, tying together threads of the story. This is nonfiction, so I don’t have the leeway I would in a novel. We’ll see if it keeps getting better.

But then there was supper. I found a lamb chop in the back of a lower shelf of the freezer—no idea how long it had been there, but I thought I could rescue it. Sautéed it in butter while I made a salad of avocado, tomato, blue cheese, lemon, and just a splash of olive oil. When the lamb chop was done, I squirted some anchovy paste into the pan with the butter and juices and poured it over the chop. Looked forward to a really good supper.

It wasn’t. The flavor of the lamb chop was medium—certainly not the best I’ve ever had but okay. But the darn thing was so tough I couldn’t cut or chew it. I finally dumped it. The avocado salad, however, was delicious.

So now the weekend looms, with grocery shopping, cooking, church—this Sunday we’ve signed up for a church luncheon, billed as “Connection.” I’ve been wanting to be more visible as a longtime member of the church, so this is a good opportunity.

And with up and down days, I remain transfixed by the antics in our government. In spite of that, I think life is good. Hope you think that too.

Lessons from a teenager

Jacob and I survived five days and nights on our own. Nothing bad happened, and I think we’re still friends—you’d have to check with him for sure, and then you’d get that classic teenage answer,  “It’s okay.”

Jordan had won two three-night packages at resorts, one in St. Martin’s and one in Anguilla, so they were off for a Caribbean vacation. Jacob didn’t really like to look at the pictures they sent because deep down he thought he should be with them and not sleeping on his grandmother’s couch in a cottage.

He had chores—one reason that he was here and not with his Coppell grandparents where he gets to sleep late and fish and go shopping and to the movies. Nope, he was stuck with me who does none of those things and prodded him out of bed at nine every morning to let the dogs out and feed them. He was also responsible for watering, front and back, and he had certain rules to follow. Bless him, he really tried hard to do it right.

He was okay to be in the house until bedtime but then he was to come to the cottage. I’d forgotten how teens will bargain and negotiate. We worked it so I called him ten minutes before I wanted to go to bed—this wasn’t exactly a hardship. I’ve been staying up until eleven or beyond. But one night, it was, “Just ten minutes, Juju. This program will be over in ten minutes.” Of course it wasn’t, and several calls later, it was after midnight before we went to bed.

Jacob is notorious, at least in my mind, for not liking my cooking. All those people who wax eloquent about memories of Grandma’s cooking? That will not be Jacob unless he changes. I had stocked up on several things I thought he’d eat—even that culinary abomination, chicken nuggets. I had enough canned green beans left for a company-sized casserole. Along with the chicken nuggets, baked beans, hot dogs, etc. I opened can of chili for my lunch today (Wolf Brand, of course.) He fixed himself breakfast and sometimes lunch, and when I’d ask if he wanted something, guess what he said? “I’m okay.”

Two days before his parents got home, Jacob did go to his other grandparents. You’d think I’d be relieved, but I wasn’t—I missed having him on my couch at night. Sophie has gone back to sleeping on the couch, but it’s not quite the same. While Jacob occupied her favorite spot, she slept at the foot of my bed, as though she were protecting me. From Jacob?

What I learned from those five days was to lower my expectations. My visions of happy outings to dinner and elsewhere did not fit his vision of staying with his grandmother. We each made it work. He got in some golf and fishing; I got to do some work and some cooking, even if he didn’t eat it.

Jacob’s welcome home day was long unpleasant for him, his dad, and his grandparents. Christian’s car died at the meet-up point in Grand Prairie, and they sat forever waiting for AAA and then for the tow truck.  They were exhausted when they finally made it to Fort Worth. The senior Burtons couldn’t be persuaded to join us for dinner, but we had a pre-birthday dinner for me, with the Frisco Alters, at Tokyo Café. We “hung out” in the afternoon with lots of cell phone time and cultural exchanges (I used that term lightly) that I didn’t understand—but now I know about Area 51 and Naruto running. The things an old lady learns! Lovely sushi dinner and lots of laughter and fun. So grateful to the Frisco family for making the trek over to Fort Worth.

Today Jacob goes to Sky Ranch for a week, so we’ll be missing him again.

Jordan was obviously happy to see her boy after ten days

The shipwreck continues….

If it hasn’t been a shipwreck week, it sure has been a week of ups and downs. We began yesterday with a birthday breakfast for Jacob—his dad’s eggs in a tortilla, balloons—and, of course, presents. One happy kid, newly a teenager.

Then Jacob and I continued the celebration by taking my Sophie to the vet for her annual checkup. Amazing to see my spirited, feisty dog so cowed, but the vet’s office really gets to her, even though he did the entire exam, shots and all, sitting on the floor with her. Hats off to Dr John Minnerly of University Animal Hospital. Sophie is healthy but will need her teeth cleaned mid-winter next year—in eight years, she’s never had that done, and Dr. Minnerly said it’s time. I’m spooked about having dogs anesthetized, but I’ve also lost a dog to untreated gum infections, so I understand what I have to do. Sophie also has the beginnings of doggie cataracts—a sign of her middle-age status. Nothing to do except understand she doesn’t see quite as well as she once did. Makes me sad to hear such aging news about her, because I still feel like it was just yesterday that we brought her home as a squiggly, wonderful puppy. Now she’s a middle-aged adult with a fully developed personality of her own—mostly good, but sometimes difficult.

I asked Jacob to go with me, because I can’t drive the car and handle the dog. I suggested he go in, give Sophie to an attendant, and come back to help me. “I can do both at once,” he protested, but I held firm. As it turned out, he was right, and I needed little help—a ramp from the parking spot and an easy, one-step doorway.

Then we went to pick up the shrimp he requested for dinner, with Sophie, now anxious from her trauma, panting and drooling in his lap—the final indignity was when she sneezed all over his leg, and he said disgustedly, “Gross!” when we got home, Sophie was wound tight and absolutely frenetic for about two hours, barking at me for I don’t know what. She had water, turned down a treat, had access to outdoors, but she wanted something I didn’t understand. She finally calmed down enough for a nap.

Jordan and Christian took Jacob and a friend to Top Golf in the afternoon, and Jacob left them all in the shade. Fittingly, he marked his entry into the teen-age years by swinging his golf club in his room and taking out the chandelier.

This morning, someone discovered that Jordan’s car had been broken into during the night. She always locks it, but thinks it must have been unlocked because there was no broken window. The would-be thieves rifled through everything in the car, opening all the glass holders in the ceiling, but the took nothing—just left a mess. Over family protests, I called it into our Neighborhood Police Officer because I know they need to have records of such for their statistics.

Today, the family continued Jacob’s birthday celebration with a four-hour fishing trip, with a guide, on a nearby lake. I’m not sure I expect to see them until tomorrow morning.

Meantime, I had adventures of my own. You know the feeling of accomplishment you get when you do something that worries you? I did that today. Put off installing my new remote keyboard and mouse because I was intimidated. But finally I came o the point that I needed it if I was going to get any work done. And like the trip to the vet, it went so smoothly that I was astounded and grateful.

The rest of my day was odd jobs at the computer and a dinner of leftover steak and mashed potatoes from the birthday dinner, brightened by a happy hour visit from good fiends Phil and Subie green. Looking forward to a weekend with a good book.