Welcome morning visitors

A new neighbor and I have struck up a friendship. This morning she was to come for coffee, but she wrote that her babysitter did not show up and she’d like to bring the two children she’s home-schooling—second- and third-graders. I worried a bit (for naught, it turns out) about Sophie’s reaction to children, but other than being overly eager, she was sweet—and the children were calm and good with her. They did their homework, while Prudence and I visited about everything from cooking to parenting and Halloween. A lovely break in my morning work routine. And she brought me the beautiful flowers above.

She told me one funny story, from when the family lived in El Paso. On Halloween, a young boy came along pushing a wheelchair with a friend in it. She kindly gave them each candy, but when she handed it to the wheelchair-bound boy, he suddenly leapt up almost in her face and shouted, “It’s a miracle!” In retrospect she found it funny, but she said at the time it scared her half to death.

It's been that kind of week—a bit of work, punctuated by visitors and outings. Noting remarkable to blog about, unless I wanted to rave and rant about our president and Syria and Ukraine and take your pick. I find sometimes I dream the Facebook screen, so I’m fairly convinced it’s time to pull back. But increasingly I think trump’s mental health should be the main concern of the 2020 election—if he lasts that lon.

Monday night, friend Subie and I scheduled a meeting of the volunteers to help welcome newcomers to the neighborhood. We expected and prepared for at most eight—we got one person, the woman who has done the welcoming for several years and is bowing out due to the demands of a new job. Ah, the joys of volunteers. We few had a great visit, and I have high hopes that all newcomers will eventually be welcomed. We truly do have a great neighborhood.

As a non-traveler, I am amazed at how much my friends travel. Neighbor Mary came for happy hour last night before taking off this morning for Ecuador and the Galapagos, not at all fazed by the fact that the party will avoid Quito and be extra cautious in Guayaquil because of political unrest. Me? I’d have canceled the trip at the slightest hint of unrest—I do not need that much adventure. Another friend is in France on a self-designed art tour, other friends are just back from Ruidoso, and another just home from Kansas City, where she reports everything is up to date. At least those destinations I can understand. Having been to Ruidoso for Christmas a couple of years ago—the year with no snow—I wondered what they would do there for  week, but she reported a really good time. I laughed however when she asked what we will do for a week in Blanco, Texas—our holiday destination. Each to their own.

Lunch yesterday at Tokyo Café, always a favorite, and dinner tonight at the Tavern—Dover sole with good mashed potatoes and sautéed spinach. But the best thing I’ve had all week? The roast that Christian fixed in the crockpot on Sunday. So simple; put a chuck roast in the pot, sprinkle with McCormick au jus dry mix and then with Hidden Valley ranch dressing dry mix. Top with a stick of butter and cook eight hours on low.

Living in the other part of Texas

For many of us living in North Texas, it’s easy to feel irrelevant these days. The nation’s attention, indeed the world’s attention, is rightfully focused on the monumental tragedy unfolding in southeast Texas—loss of life, devastation of entire towns, a disastrous economic future for an area heavy reliant on tourism, irreparable damage to the infrastructure. Most of us in North Texas have now convinced family and friends that we are not in danger, that Houston is a long way from the Metroplex. So we sit, watch TV, wring our hands, and wonder what we can do.

Donations are welcome by more agencies than we can count. Probably most are legitimate, but there are scams by people willing to turn a tragedy to their own personal profit. Pretty scary. We’re safe to go with the “biggies”—the Red Cross or the Salvation Army, but I am leery of what percentage of donations to the first actually go to help victims and, with the second, can you earmark the money for Houston? There are parts of the work of the Salvation Army I don’t particularly want to support.

Personally, I’m thinking of a donation to an animal rescue agency. One of the most pitiful pictures I saw was a dog that had been chained to a tree, ostensibly so it wouldn’t wander away. Only its head was above water and, given the steady rise, it would soon drown (that there was a photographer there means the dog was rescued).

If tragedy brings out the worst in a few of us, it brings out the best in most. Countless pictures show volunteers rescuing people. One video that particularly struck me showed a man crying as he helped rescue an elderly resident of Dickinson from waist-deep water in his home. The elderly man was so frail he had to be hoisted into the rescue truck.

I’ve heard of people hitching up their boats and heading to Houston to be part of the rescue effort, which is admirable but I’m not sure Houston authorities want or are ready for a lot of untrained volunteers. Who would coordinate? It’s the opposite of the evacuation problem—instead of getting people out of Houston, the rescue effort might add them.

Ah, evacuation. Lots of hindsight authorities want to know why a mass evacuation wasn’t ordered? Think of the logistics of emptying a city of two-and-a-half millionousthous

, and remember the exodus under the threat of Hurricane Rita. I believe over a hundred died on the road—accidents, heat exhaustion, stalled cars, etc. We trust that those in charge studied the situation and made the best decisions they couold.

Kudos to my daughter-in-law, Melanie in Frisco. She is organizing a work day for the entire staff of her company. They will sort and package supplies for shipment to the Houston area from a local shelter. That’s called putting your money where your mouth is.

This whole tragedy has one major positive element, just as the Charlottesville riot did: Americans have demonstrated that we are a caring, loving people, that we can come together when needed. A lot of forces are working to divide us into various groups usually motivated by hate. The tragedy of Harvey unites us because we very much care about our fellow man.

If, like me, you can do no more than send a check, please do it today and be as generous as you can.

Lazy days aren’t just for summer

This morning I woke up, knew I had an 8:30 breakfast group—and rolled over and went back to sleep. I just didn’t want to get up and get going. Finally dragged myself out of bed just in time to hug Jacob before he went to school. Then this afternoon I slept two hours and lounged in bed another half hour, dozing, dreaming, and thinking. The only positive result that came out of that is I made notes for my new novel—the notes are probably 100 words, not an encouraging start on a 70,000-word novel. But it was a lovely day—took time this morning to make ham salad and devil an egg, so I had a wonderful lunch. And email kept me busy a lot of the day.

In line with my new program of improving my mobility, I put a note in the neighborhood e-mail list that I needed someone to do errands--what I didn’t specify is that I wanted someone to do errands in the mornings with me, not for me. A lovely lady, with two kids in middle and high school, responded, and we came to an agreement. But I was overwhelmed with offers, a few from people I didn’t know but many from friends. I thanked each but explained I wanted this to be a business arrangement and not Judy taking advantage of friends. We will have our first outing tomorrow—I made a long-delayed appointment with the audiologist at TCU. And Thursday we’ll go to the hardware and grocery and then, by myself, I’ll meet a friend for lunch. Life is on the upswing, but I am so grateful for the many offers. People are good.

Tonight was neighbors’ night at the Grill, and I was escorted by two young men, ages nine and ten. They were well behaved and did me proud. Full table, so that I didn’t even get to talk to the people at the other end until I went to say goodnight—and remind them of the signing next Tuesday night. Fun, but now it’s time for Jacob and me to go to bed.