Visit from an old and dear friend-and a yoga lesson

Elizabeth came home for a visit tonight. Oh, I know her home is in Hurst with her parents, but she lived in my cottage for a year and I consider this one of her homes, especially now that she lives in Pennsylvania. The neighbors, all fond of her, gathered and we had a jolly happy hour. Elizabeth and Jacob were especially close friends. When she lived here, he’d come in from school in the afternoon and ask, “Can I go see Elizabeth?”

Tonight it’s supposed to snow in the Philadelphia area, so Elizabeth was especially pleased to have happy hour on the deck, with pleasant temperature and just a bit of a breeze. Sophie was also especially fond of Elizabeth and they had a good reunion.

Later after everyone else had left, she and I caught up on each other’s families and lives and goings on. It was like old times when we’d meet on the deck for wine about 9:30 at night. Thoroughly relaxed, thoroughly comfortable with each other—it doesn’t get much better than that. I do remember the night a baby rat fell out of a tree and darn near landed in her wine.

We first met when Elizabeth, a non-traditional student (read older) came to TCU Press as a work-study student. Don’t hold me to this figure, but I suspect it was almost twenty-five years ago. We clicked, though I am some thirty-plus years older than she is. But we’ve been friends ever since. And when she lived here, she became part of my inner circle of neighborhood friends.

Tonight the once-student was the teacher. Some six, seven, eight years ago she first taught me yoga since she had become a certified yoga teacher. I practiced my yoga faithfully almost every day for years but this past year mobility problems, a painful leg and hip have kept me from it. As you may know I’ve been in physical therapy twice in the past year. But tonight, with the PT therapist’s blessing, I went back to yoga. I expected Elizabeth to give me a brush-up on the routine I’ve always done. Instead we did a whole new set of poses designed to strengthen my ankle and legs and stretch my back. This time, she stressed holding some poses as long as I was comfortable. It was an easy workout that probably did me more good than I realize, and I look forward to following the new routine.

A thoroughly pleasant day, and I’m ready for bed.

Getting back in shape

I've realized, with regret, that I was really sedentary this summer. It was hot, I didn't have much reason to get out, and I sat at my desk a whole lot. At first going the block to get Jacob and back left me winded, and that trip to the lower levels of his school absolutely undid me. Today, carrying in groceries about finished me--but I have to add that I had a lot of heavy items, too many packed in each bag. I gratefully put the frozen things away and then took a time out at my desk before unpacking the rest. The words of a friend echoed in my mind, "Move it or lose it." So now I have to move it.
I used to do yoga almost every day but a combination of things has made me lazy about it, beginning with physical therapy. I figured I worked hard enough there that I didn't have to do much else. Faulty reasoning on my part. And then there was that episode with my swollen foot--my left ankle is still half again as big as my right, and I have dropfoot in that foot--barefoot, the whole foot comes down at once instead of heel and toe in a nice rhythm. With shoes I do a bit better but the front end of my foot tends to slap down. Instead of dropfoot, I call it slapfoot. Too much information, but it was a convenient excuse not to exercise. I'm going to the doctor tomorrow to explore the problem.
And early in September Jordan has arranged for a good friend of hers to bring a yoga coach and check my routines and give me a new regime.
I've been happy eliminating exercise from my daily schedule because I always have work on my desk, and I often resent the time exercises takes. But I realize that's a foolish excuse at my age--move it or lose it, and I'm going to move it.
I've also gained weight this summer, though I'm fairly careful about what I eat, trying to avoid sandwiches so I don't eat the bread, never having more than a half, always eating small portions. But then something tempts me. Yesterday I had the best hamburger I've had in forever--a thick, juicy patty (hate thin dry ones) with pimiento cheese, a slice of green tomato, and grilled onions. Ate half for lunch and the other half for supper. The problem is I really enjoy cooking good food, eating in restaurants, and entertaining. I'm torn between the philosophy of staying thin (long ago out of my reach) and saying, "What the heck! At your age, enjoy the things you like to eat." Life is full of choices.

Yoga again

This is so not me!

I probably haven't done yoga for four months. Physical therapy threw me off track--it was a shock to my self confidence to think that I needed it, and much as I appreciated the program, it threw me to realize I was in a balance program for the elderly--hate that term, though with a birthday fast upon me, it applies. I cannot say enough about what the program did for me--main thing is now I walk, not shuffle. I didn't realize I was shuffling, but several people have pointed out that improvement in my walking. And I am bolder about where I walk. I assume my self-confidence will gradually return.
But meantime therapy so occupied me that I put yoga out of my mind.
I don't know if the two are related or not, but my brother noticed that I have gained weight--and he was right. His words, "Don't talk to me about carbohydrates and diets. It's all a matter of intake and output. You need to move more." The physical therapy exercises weren't doing that.
So yesterday I did my yoga routine for the first time in forever or so it seems. I was pleased at what I could still do--and dismayed by what I couldn't do. Plus I forgot some of the major poses as I went through the routine--omitted Warrior, which would stretch the leg muscle that's been giving me grief.
Jordan is already discouraged that I didn't do it again today, but the day went by--a doctor's appt, followed by a desk full of small chores, birthday lunch with a good friend which included wine and sent me straight to a long and lovely nap. Dinner with neighbors at the Grill and now getting Jacob to bed--he has showered and memorized his Bible verse for tomorrow, so I feel pretty efficient.
My immediate goal: yoga three times a week. More if it works, but I'm not going to beat myself up about it. And I am eating less--couldn't finish a good chicken salad at lunch and brought home a piece of meatloaf tonight for lunch tomorrow. I know we older folks don't need as much food and do need movement. Working on it, but not going to let it dominate my life.
What I really think I need to work on is the meditative, calming aspect of yoga--training my mind to go blank and recharge. It is always to busy, jumping ahead to the next thing I need to do. I'm working on it.
 To repeat my new motto: I am who I am.

The words that come out of our mouths

The other night I was talking yoga with a friend of Jordan's, and said I did my yoga routine alone in the sunroom. My neighbor walked up and said, "Why don't you go to class?" I retorted, "You know I don't like to go out!" The minute I said it, the words echoed in my head. They weren't exactly what I meant--I don't like to do yoga with a lot of other people, and I don't want to deliberately take the chunk out of my day that it takes to come and go.
But did I really mean it? I love people, I feed on company, and too much time alone makes me a tad depressed. But as a friend said to me, "You don't go out. You bring people to you." I've long been aware of a tendency toward reclusiveness that lurks in me, even though I love to go to small parties, restaurants with friends, etc. Increasingly I don't like to go out alone.
Almost forty years ago I was housebound by agoraphobia--sometimes defined as a fear of open spaces but best defined by me as a fear of fear. Phobics gradually draw the circle more tightly around them--the limits of where they'll go get closer and closer until one day you just don't go. If you don't understand panic, you'll have to trust me on this one--I  understand it too well. I spent years pushing back that circle, enlarging it.
But recently I've felt it closing in a bit, and especially during the two weeks I had whatever I had. I stayed home--and pretty much liked it. So when I heard those words--at a party significantly in my own comfortable "safe" house--I knew it was time to start pushing back again. Jacob got caught in my push and we went to church yesterday (once you're out of the habit of going, skipping church gets easier and easier). He tried mightily to talk me into leaving before the sermon, but I insisted and he went grumpily off to the children's sermon. I was glad I stayed because the sermon was good and the music glorious.
Today I had errands to run but found myself contemplating putting them off. That's when I got high behind, dressed and set off to Goodwill, liquor store, grocery and cosmetics store. A bit conscious of myself as I did those things (am I anxious or not?) but I did them. And each small step is a victory. This week, I will make it a point to get out of the house every day.
I'll get my balance back, and my circle will grow. Many people have problems so much worse. How can I complain?

Some days just don't go like they should

With Jamie, my younger son
Note the macramé which made him say I'm still a hippie at heart

Today was supposed to be one where routine just flowed, things went smoothly along. Showering in the morning, yoga, writing--ah yes, the idyllic life of a writer. It didn't work out as I intended at all. I really didn't feel well. Can't tell if the cold I thought I had banished came back (that's part of it) or if I perhaps over-served myself with wine last night in my zeal for visiting with Megan and family (I confess I'm pretty sure that's part of it). Saturday night I stepped off a curb that was deeper than I thought (good thing I was holding on to Jamie) and I truly think I jarred the whole left side of my body. Today I'm limping again and feel like I need to hold on to things to even get around the house.
Subie interrupted my yoga (which wasn't going well) and we had a nice visit in the morning; when she left, I went back to the yoga mat, coughed so hard I gagged and gave up on yoga.
Good things did happen: the dog groomer came much earlier than I expected and was through by one o'clock; I wrote my thousand words for the day; just settled down for a nap when the plumber called and was one his way to replace the dripping kitchen faucet--the new one is high and rounded with a soap dispense and one of those nozzle attachments you can pull down--carefully. Jordan arrived to get Jacob from school and stayed for a visit. I did a load of laundry (still not folded) and ran and emptied the dishwasher. Subie came back bringing pasta for supper. Now that I look at it, it wasn't a bad day. I just didn't feel good. Maybe it was the chicken salad I ate last night in a restaurant? A friend once warned me that she never ordered chicken salad because somewhere, sometime, someone had to bone that chicken by hand.
Sophie is a new dog--about half the dog she was before. She looks so skinny and little. The groomer got all the mats without shaving her (my big request) and now you can see her pretty eyes. I'm relieved, because she was really shaggy. Spring better come because she now has her spring haircut.
Tomorrow is Jordan's actual birthday, and we're all set to celebrate at lunch. I would like to be through feeling about half myself. I'm rarely sick, and when I don't feel well I always look for something to blame it on. Compulsive about much of life, I can't even relax enough to accept that I don't feel well. I am grateful that the extreme tired feeling of wanting to crawl back in bed at every chance is gone. But my conscience always tell me if I'd just straighten up and fly right, I'd be okay. Please, Lord, I'd like to feel better tomorrow.

New Year's resolutions

I never make resolutions. I think it's foolish. We set these grand goals for ourselves and forget them long before January ends, partly because they're so lofty we can't attain them.. I've always believed in a more moderate approach--like this year I'm going to be a better person, walk in another person's moccasins before I judge them, an so on.
But this year I've made three resolutions, taking a hint from the man who recently said he was going to make one personal, one business, and one health resolution. I've got mine ready:
Health - I'm going to do my yoga routine at least four times a week, no excuses. I used to do that, but this past year the slightest excuse found me saying, "Not today." My back hurts, I didn't have time, the stars weren't aligned right. You name it, and it was an excuse for me. But I know I'm out of shape, and I know it's important as we age (and I certainly am) to stay flexible and active. Besides I bought a cushy new yoga pad.
Business--I'm going to be more disciplined about my writing. Less time on Facebook, etc., and more time devoted to writing new copy. Although I published three books this year, they reflected in large part writing done earlier. This year I'm going to concentrate on writing new material an finishing the projects on which I have a half start.
Personal - this is the one I'll probably break by January 10, but I am going to resist responding to blindly stated, rock-held (but in my mind erroneous) opinions on politics, social justice, the environment, gun control--all those controversial issues. Sometimes when people post comments that I consider blind belief and not rational exploration I can't resist leaping in. But I'm going to try. The guy who says "You can't take my guns from me" the same day a two-year-old shoots his mother by mistake will get no response for me. Neither will the person who claims climate change is a bunch of hooey. Hardest will be resisting those who blindly hate President Obama and claim he's ruining the country. But I cannot change their minds, and I hope to stop beating my head against a wall.
I saw a post today from a woman who said she will continue to condemn rogue cops, even while she continues to praise the majority of police officers. That, to me, is reasoned discourse, and if folks want to engage in that, I'd be grateful. I want to know when my thinking has veered off the chart of rationality--but only if you, too, are rational about it. Facts, folks, not prejudice.
Yes, I'm a progressive, a liberal, a tree hugger, an anti-gun person--but I'm willing to be reasonable about all--well, most of it.
So there you have it. Wish me luck in 2015. Because I wish you all the best that can be, all that your heart desires. Health, wealth, and happiness for everyone...and, most of all, peace in this sorry old world of ours. I, for one, am most grateful for all the blessings of my life. I hope you are too and that they continue for all of us in the year to come. God bless!

Breathe in, breathe out

One of the things I like about yoga is that if you can really live in the moment while you're doing it, it does calm you. If I can get dogs and children and telephone squared away and do the poses, repeating breathe in, breathe out, I really do feel different when I finish a half hour. Doesn't happen often enough these days. I've been so busy keeping up with two dogs, that I have done yoga in two weeks...and I miss it. I keep telling myself life will settle down.
Today I woke up with an overwhelming sense of things to be done. Somehow that sense always hits me in the morning, but by evening I feel relaxed and confident about what I accomplished for the day. But Jacob spent the night last night...and I never sleep as well when he's here. In addition, I had to be sure to get up in plenty of time to get him down the block to school on time. This morning it was his iPad that distracted him. After his breakfast I told him to get his clothes and get dressed; he brought his clothes into the living room and then forgot about them until I asked why he was still in his underwear. Then I told him four times to get his lunch money off the kitchen counter. Guess what I found after I saw him off to school. Yep, lunch money. His mom said incredulously, "You let him have his iPad in the morning? What is wrong with you?" Lesson learned.
My lunch plans cancelled--now you know I'm in trouble when that comes as a blessed relief, even with a friend who is especially dear to me. But it meant I got a lot done, and tonight I'm going to start reading a friend's manuscript on the Garden of Eden community--an early African American settlement that survives today, with residents growing vegetables and living off the land as much as is possible in an urban community today.
I'm keeping up with the dog world and falling into a routine. Today, for the first time in who knows how long, I didn't have to be outside with Luke and he didn't escape. Lewis and Jim Bundock fixed the fence yesterday, came back today to reinforce the gate he tore through yesterday afternoon. We may have outwitted him, though I'm not counting on it.
Had an odd dinner tonight. Betty and I did our weekly dinner thing--and split an order of five deviled egg halves. She had clam chowder and I had a great tomato and blue cheese plate. Just the right amount of food. My weight has even gone down about five lbs.--good news!
All of this says to me that life goes on. Problems that seemed insurmountable become but bumps in the road. I'll get back to yoga and breathing in, breathing out. Maybe I'm Pollyanna, but I surely do think life is good. I hope it is for you too.

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.

 

Introvert, extrovert--what are you?

I've been following a thread on Sisters in Crime about whether being a writer makes you more of an introvert...or maybe you write because you're an introvert. There an endless circle there, but a friend said to me that extroverts feed off people while introverts feed off themselves and quiet.
Like most people, I think I'm a bit of both, but there are days I think I may be in danger of becoming a recluse. Then there are weeks like this one--I had breakfast, lunch, and dinner out Tuesday, lunch and dinner Wednesday, and lunch today. Tomorrow and Saturday I'll be out for dinner, and Sunday I'll have company for supper. So, yes, a big part of me is an extrovert, and I know if I spend two days home alone I best look for some kind of human contact on that third day.
I will say that, for me, having a dog helps with aloneness. I carry on conversations with Sophie, and sometimes she "talks" back to me--I just wish I knew what she was saying. A friend said yesterday, "I don't speak dog," and I answered, "But don't you wish you did?" He's one of Sophie's absolute favorite people, and her intonation when she talks to him is amazing.
But wait, I'm digressing from people to dogs. I find more and more that I decline invitations, especially to large social events, because it sounds better to stay at home with my computer or a book. And there are days when I just can't wait to get to my desk, boot up the computer, and be a writer--not necessarily by writing but by checking email, Facebook, etc. A lot of ancillary stuff goes with being a writer.
Some days that rush to my desk is fueled by an aching back, although it's getting better, and I'm being fairly faithful about my yoga. But today I carried in groceries--four trips to the car--put away the cold and frozen things, and rushed to my computer. Got involved, and when I got up to meet a friend for lunch, I was astounded to see I hadn't put away the rest of the groceries. Not like me, because I'm fairly compulsive.
I'm grateful for the people who are in my house frequently, especially daughter Jordan and grandson Jacob, but I also relish the quiet of being home alone. Sometimes I get tons done and other times I fritter away the time. Sometimes weekends loom large and long and empty...but then they go by so quickly I wonder where they went.
I'm not sure my inclinations toward being an introvert have anything to do with writing, though I've traded some on being "liter'y" in other ways--as an excuse to be a little different, like not dress for success in a business suit when I was working. But that's another story.

God as a masseuse

I was amused not long ago when a minister posted on Facebook her reaction to a man's comment that whenever he couldn't find a parking spot, he asked God to help him...and he found a spot. The minister's comment was that reduced God to a valet.
But then I thought about it and realized I sometimes make God into my own personal masseuse, though I don't think it's a reduction. Yoga has become a spiritual exercise for me--not so much when I do the poses. Then I actually have a hard time clearing my mind and turning off all the thoughts and concerns of daily living. But when I get to the relaxation/meditation phase, it instantly becomes prayer for me. A time when I talk to God and try my hardest to go one step farther and listen to God.
The yoga/meditation sequence I was taught and find oh-so
- helpful begins with sort of cataloging your body as you relax each area of muscles, and I have done it enough that I can feel some muscles give way--my temporomandibular muscles, for instances. So I begin my relaxation by asking God to help me relax, to feel his peace flowing through my body. By the time I get to the back of my neck. I can feel hands massaging the tense muscles...and to me they are God's hands. Same for my low back and hips which are giving me more trouble as I age.
After I am relaxed, head to toe, I discuss all kinds of things with God--family and friends, personal concerns (even the book I'm working on), the state of the union and the world (which I'm sure must make him weep), and I ask for strength to live my life as he would have me.
I was once in a brown bag lunch group where we discussed our faith, each encouraged to share only as much as he or she wanted. I liked the group and was sorry when it fell apart. But one woman said she would never think of asking God in prayer for anything for herself. I think I do that all the time, sort of like the man with his parking spot. "Dear God, where did I put my keys?" Sometimes he helps, sometimes he leaves me on my own.
But my yoga prayer is a different, more spiritual experience. I don't think God minds being my masseuse.

That "Ooops" Moment

A picture is worth a thousand words. This is the picture that I thought made me look fat. Dare I say blowsy? Frowsy?

I did something this morning a lot of women do daily--I stepped on the scale. For the last five years or more I've weighed a lot more than I wanted, but I usually kept it within a three-four pound range, and my doctor said he wasn't at all concerned. The other night, at a birthday dinner, a friend took my picture because she liked the color top I had on. When she sent it to me, I thought, "I look fat." So I stepped on the scales and guess what? I am fat. I've gained five or six pounds in the last few months.

Immediate diet coming up. The pimiento cheese sandwich for lunch was replaced with cold salmon seasoned with lemon juice, roasted asparagus, and a small bit of leftover potato salad with lemon juice, no mayo (a delicious recipe). Dinner wasn't quite as successful but not too bad--pinto beans, green beans (no butter), and meatloaf but I scraped the sauce off.
My plan: salads like tuna, egg, chicken or ham with veggies for lunch and maybe dinner. When I eat dinner out, I'll order things without potatoes or carbs or much fat (okay, I may cheat on the latter). But I'll eat a lot of fish, which I like. My personal weak spots are white wine and dark chocolate and I'll cut down on them--both expensive. That will also help my grocery bill.
In truth, I think I eat a fairly healthy diet, but I'd fallen into the habit of putting my tuna or ham salad in a sandwich, or making an open-faced turkey/ham/cheese sandwich with a homemade Thousand Island dressing. No more bread, although I've never eaten much. A couple of brief spells on online Weightwatchers have schooled me in what to eat and what not to eat, though I'm a terrible cheat.
There are fattening things I love--mayonnaise, cheese, chopped liver (okay I don't each much of that), cream cheese, bacon--I'll avoid them until I get this under control.
It's easy on day one to be optimistic about losing weight. It'll be a snap, and 1'll soon shed those extra pounds, yet I know that's not true. It's liable to be a long hard slog.
And part of it--I'll do my yoga routine four or five times a week. Granted, my routine is not too rigorous, designed for a woman of my age. Still I worked up a sweat doing it this evening, and I'm determined to make that a part of my daily routine.
Wish me luck. I know I'll never weigh 110 again as I did in my twenties, but I'd like to lose the fat-faced look and the belly that makes a favorite pair of pants not fit any more.

Reflections on a family holiday

Reflection on our all-family Christmas in Santa Fe has led me to two resolutions that I hope to make a way of life in 2014 (besides the eternal resolution to do my yoga routine more regularly).
Because my balance is sometimes more than a bit iffy, my grown children are always ready to help, and I find myself clinging to them. Now in an icy parking lot in Santa Fe, I was only too glad to have Jamie's arm, but most of the time, on dry pavement, I am just fine--even though this year I was clunking around in an orthopedic shoe on one foot. So my resolution is to be more independent--not only about walking but about living. I received a Keurig coffee maker for Christmas and my first thought was that I didn't want to figure out the set-up directions; I'd wait for my neighbor to come by. But I went ahead and did it, because there are a lot of little things like that I can do for myself...and should. I figure the more independent I am, the less likely to become a little old woman--or to have my children see me that way. It's a two-way street: I cling, and they see me as helpless. Well, I'm not and I intend to prove it. Yes, there are times I need a hand up a curb or something, and then I'll ask.
My second resolution is to be more assertive. In Santa Fe I spent way too much time at my computer or reading. Granted I was happy doing that, but I was sort of out of the loop. And sometimes I got my nose out of joint (that phrase makes my oldest son laugh). The night that son was in the hospital, my daughters went to sit at the hospital with his wife while she waited for the results of an endoscopy. Nobody said, "Mom, he's your child. Do you want to go?" The next day I mentioned that to Megan, my oldest daughter, and she said, "Mom, if you wanted to go, you should have said so." Point well taken. Sometimes the conversation rolls over whatever I try to contribute to it: from now own, I will make myself heard. And I don't like being shut out of the kitchen and kitchen decisions when they're cooking, etc. Sure, everyone makes one meal, and they do it their way. But I sometimes feel like Adam's off ox--when I ask what I can do, they wave and say "nothing." Probably that's in large part my fault--I seem comfortable at the computer, so why should they bother me. I'm going to make a real effort to assert myself and be part of the action.
So that's two--independence and assertiveness. As for that third--yoga. Yeah, I'll do it when I get rid of this boot. Though Monday, which for me starts the routine of the everyday world again, I may see what I can do with the boot on.
How about you? Did you make any realistic resolutions?

Icebound: Day 4

Like much of North Texas, I'm still trapped at home. It was supposed to be above freezing--slightly--for five hours today but it doesn't look like much around here melted. The street is clear in the middle and I might be okay if I could make it from the front door to the garage--but the porch and driveway are still ice. My son-in-law is trapped at home because his car is in the garage and the gate is frozen. Jordan parked on the street but swears her car moved a bit during the night. Scary stuff.
Today I had a furnace repairman for company--my only human contact, other than phone stuff. Jacob went home last night, and I miss him though I'm a bit glad to be relieved of worrying about how bored he is and what to feed him.
I've gotten past the iced-in lethargy and gotten a lot done the last couple of days. Jacob and I straightened the playroom and targeted several toys to be given away, pending his mom's approval. He really took the minimalist position and wanted to discard some things that have sentimental value. His question was "What?" I've gotten some chores down that I thought I need the kids help on--polished a huge and badly tarnished silver tray (that was a project) and the repairman took down the defective garland from the door.
When I most need to do yoga, I always put it off. But I did it this morning and felt better for it. Didn't feel it was my best workout ever but maybe tomorrow will be better.Tonight I have several projects on my desk, which always pleases me.
I've decided being iced in teaches you patience--we all know that feeling of "Will this ever melt?"--but it also teaches you gratitude. I'm in a warm house, plenty of food (though I'm really ready for a restaurant meal), plenty to do, and a loyal dog for company. She follows me from room to room. Is she checking on what I'm doing? Now she's settled in "her" chair opposite my desk, curled into a little ball and cozy as she can be. Later tonight, she'll go to her bed for tummy rubs, but then she'll wander off and tomorrow morning I'll find her curled up in her chair. No newspaper for four days but I can keep up with the world on television and the Internet. Mail today for the first time since Thursday--two pieces so insignificant it wasn't worth opening the front door to get them. I heard of a friend whose furnace has been out since Friday and it got down to 16 in their house--yes, I'm grateful and praying for them and others. Part of my neighborhood lost power last night but not my street--again, I'm grateful.
Tomorrow, it is supposed to melt quite a bit. I have a tentative plan to go to dinner with a friend, and Wed. night I have plans for a Christmas celebratory dinner with two friends--even made a reservation.
Surely this is going to melt and we can get back to normal. I just pray it isn't a forecast for the winter to come.

Down dog gets a new meaning

Sophie on alert against that pesky squirrel in the tree

outside my office--he keeps taunting her and she falls for it every time

 

I've always been told, in training dogs, that once you're on the floor, all bets are off and you're a toy for the dog. So I try to do my yoga routine when Sophie is outside, but a few times I've left her asleep in her favorite chair and she's ignored me. Not so tonight. She'd just been out--my daughter let in her in not knowing I didn't want her. And since it's a damp night, Sophie wasn't interested in going out again. I worked a bit at my computer until I thought she was comfortably asleep and then went off to do my yoga.
All was fine during the standing and sitting routines, but about the time I knelt on the mat, she came, found me, and began to lick my face. To give her credit, when I said "No," she backed off. She'd watch a bit in curiosity and then come lick my face again. Saying "Sit," had no effect--and she's usually good about it. She just stood and watched me as though trying to puzzle out what I was doing. Then she settled for lying on the floor, watching over me as though she had to be sure I had not gone insane and put myself in danger. She'd wander away for a bit, but then she'd come back--but she never bothered me, and I didn't encourage her by talking to her.
When I came to the relaxation phase at the end of the routine I thought she'd gone away, but as I lay there with my eyes closed she began to lick my face--attempting to revive me? I told her she was good but to go on, and she did. I did a rather shortened version of the meditation (which often turns into prayer for me) and sat up, only to find she had fallen into her relaxed sleep pose--on her side, all four legs stretched out in front of her. She never budged when I told her how good she is.
Thinking I may get a dog as a companion when I do my yoga from now on, and I like that thought. Of course I didn't have my camera, so I didn't get a picture of how cute she was.

Those blah days

I’ve had a couple of blah days this week, and, compulsive that I am, I feel obliged to search out the cause. Was it that extra glass (or two) of wine I had being sociable Sunday night? Sophie’s cough that had her sounding like a barking seal? Adjusting to a new routine without Elizabeth in the apartment? (Monday I found myself waiting for her to come in for “rat watch” wine about 9:30.) Or maybe it was stress over my work-in-progress? I’ve been pushing myself to write a minimum of a thousand words a day but I had only a vague idea of how the novel should end (I’m at 53,000 words, and my novels tend to be about 65,000 so I’m closing in on it). Maybe I’ve had too much of my own company.

Several things contributed to make this a better day: Sophie is not coughing nearly as much nor is it that deep, frightening sound, and, to my relief, she’s not spitting up as she coughs, though she’s left little marks throughout the house. Carpet cleaning coming up.

I slept soundly, which I didn’t do the night before, and had weird dreams as I always do, but they weren’t unpleasant. In fact in one, I was visiting with old friends, one of whom is now gone so it’s an opportunity that will never come my way again; in another dream, my father was prominent. I woke feeling rested but stiff and sore.

For two days I’ve told myself I felt too blah to do my yoga—of course, that’s when I really should do it. This morning, I made myself do it early in the day—because my back felt like someone had nailed a rigid board between my shoulder blades. Yoga got some movement into that tight section of my upper back and improved my overall outlook. It’s a lesson I’ll probably learn over and over again, but when you least feel like doing yoga is when you should do it.

And, finally, I had an aha! moment in the wee hours and knew exactly how that mystery is going to end—down to most of the details. I’ve written over a single-spaced page of notes on it, and I suddenly don’t feel the pressure I did, the worry about the novel. Warning: it will be different from preceding Kelly O’Connell works. A little more violent, sort of a cross between a cozy and a suspense novel is my take, but I’ll wait and see what beta readers say.

I topped off the day with an early supper with Betty at Sera, a new wine and tapas bar. A space we used to love has been redone, lightened up, and spruced up. And tapas always draw me. I had a white anchovy salad with greens, tomatoes, manchego—delicious, but it wasn’t enough. So I ordered the Spanish omelet—potatoes, eggs, and onion. The seasoning was just right, but the thick cake-like patty was too filling—Betty ate part of it. She had ordered a wonderful-looking oyster chowder with saffron. We’ll go back there.

Came home and wrote more. The world is gradually moving back into its proper place.

A new deck and a busy day

They started framing the new deck on the back of my house today. As  you can see, Sophie likes it. It will be 10x12, just right for a table and six chairs and lots of plants. This picture was taken about six, so you can see that on many nights it will be plenty shady for cocktails and supper. Tonight of course was just too blamed hot, but a late night glass of wine out there would be pleasant. Meantime I'm forbidden to go out there--everyone is sure I'll fall over the framing. Susan and Jay went out there with no problem tonight, and I'm sure I could--but how embarrassing to prove them right. Besides, I have no reason to go right now. The Bundocks, Lewis and Jim, only work on it mornings--today was the first day--because the afternoons are too hot.
I'm enjoying my new routine of getting up at 6:30 and doing my yoga, though I tell myself if one morning I don't want to leave my bed that early, I don't have to. This week I'm delivering Jacob to Vacation Bible School at nine in the morning and picking him up at noon. Today by the time I took him to the church, I had done my yoga, watered the porch plants, started two loads of laundry, read my email and Facebook, and made ham salad for my lunch! Still, I didn't settle down to serious work as early as I hoped.
Started a new, as yet untitled novel today, the next in the Kelly O'Connell series, and got a good 800 words done. Still hope to do 200 more tonight to reach my daily goal of 1,000--last time I did that, I felt the novel flowed more smoothly and went faster.  I see days looming when I won't do that much, but I can also see some when I'll do more.
Tonight I hosted an impromptu happy hour. Since our former neighbor, Sue, was coming over at six, I invited Jay and Susan. We had a good visit, but no Sue, so they went home; two minutes later, Sue arrived, so I had a second happy hour. We too had a good visit but I was sorry they had all missed each other. I had my supper all ready to heat and did so about eight--stuffed zucchini and corn on the cob. Delicious.
Now, on to that last 200 words!

Yoga and me

I would love to tell you that I can do a headstand or the pigeon or any number of poses, but the sad truth is I can't even stand on one foot very well. I'd also love to tell you I practice my yoga every day, but, alas, I don't. I average about four days a week. If I don't do it early in the morning, I'm probably not going to get it done that day unless Jacob goes home early and I have no plans for the evening. Sometimes I let my desire to watch the news get in the way in the evening. So mornings are better--if I don't have errands to run and things to do outside the house.
And oh my! can I procrastinate! I remind myself of the late Erma Bombeck who would rather scrub floors or wash windows than face a blank computer screen. I fiddle with this and that in the kitchen, I straighten things I would never otherwise think of straightening. Finally I make myself go in the back room, spread out the mat, takes off my shoes and get to it.
And then I enjoy it. If I think about 30-40 minutes, it seems forever, but before I know it, I find myself doing the closing exercises of my routine. And there are some things I can do that I'm pretty proud of. Wish I knew the names of all the poses, but I'm getting pretty good at warrior, and I can do ten mini-push-ups (may not sound like much but at my age, for someone who started four years ago, I think it's pretty good). I can hold the boat pose for a count of 20; one day when I did that my yoga instructor said, "Do you realize how much strength that takes?" And I'm really proud of my spinal balance--you kneel on all fours, then extend one leg and the opposite arm. I added an exercise--one leg raised with the hips off the floor and supported by the opposite leg, bent at the knee; then the other leg; and finally both legs, with hips off the floor,, supported by your arms. That led Elizabeth to say, "Look at you! You're doing pilates!" Little did I know.
I should add that Elizabeth, my yoga instructor nad longtime friend, lives in my garage apartment these days. I don't take lessons, but she's around if I want to ask about a certain pose or something.
At the end of a yoga session, you're supposed to relax and meditate. When I first started and was taking regular lessons, Elizabeth said to me one day, "You're reading the titles in the bookcase, aren't you?" I was. But these days I really do empty my mind and go through a relaxation series, followed by meditation which for me turns into prayer. And when I'm done, I truly do feel refreshed and better.
I"m prone to falling. As my oldest son Colin said, "Mom, it's not that your balance is bad. It's that you don't look where you're going." I've taken several falls in recent months--the worst was when I fell into the open dishwasher, after tripping on a turned up rug--but I have, knock on wood, avoided serious injury. I attribute it to yoga.
 So why do I procrastinate? I think because I always feel the rush of other things I have to do. But of all the things on my plate, yoga is probably one most important to my well-being. Maybe I can work up to five days a week.
 

A clean slate...almost

It was a hectic weekend, even if I eventually didn't go to the rodeo or the stock show grounds. I still had a houseful with four extra adults and five extra children--which meant Jacob slept in my bed three nights out of four. By the last night I kind of got used to it and slept well, until he turned into a small-size octupus about five in the morning. Kids are by nature noisy, especially when you put five together, so there was never a dull moment. And then there were three dogs. Sophie got in their faces, wanting to play; Gracie, the big dog, growled and carried on though, out walking, she played with other dogs. Eddie, at ten lbs., sometimes was okay with Sophie and sometimes attacked--which was kind of funny since she weighs two and a half times what he does. She seemed unfazed by the rebuffs to her playful advances, but I was constantly shuffling dogs and locking doors so neither children nor dogs would go out unsupervised.
We had a good family breakfast Sunday--a sausage and cheese casserole (see Potluck with Judy, http://potluckwithjudy.blogspot.com), plus a potato casserole Christian had left from a breakfast meeting, and fresh biscuits. It was a chance to all sit around and visit, which we couldnt do the night before in a noisy restauraant. Soon after everyone began to pack up and by noon the house was peaceful and quiet.
Not sure what it is about suddenly having time, but it made me industrious. I did laundry and dishes, and then I dug into my tax organizer, wrote my thousand words, posted on Potluck with Judy,and found time to read. Did the same thing today, with time out for a pleasant lunch with a friend. We exchange a flowers of the month program for Christmas and then have a monthly lunch before getting our flowers. So I enjoyed tuna fish in an old church building and tonight I have lovely cut flowers on my dining table. I am on the home stretch of getting my taxes together, have 34,500 words on my novel, sent corrections off on my newsletter, and am about to go over once more my notes for the program I'm to do tomorrow at a local retirement community.
This afternoon, it was back to first-grade homework with a reluctant scholar who claimed he was too tired because of "the allergies." We whizzed through math but muddled through his reading--I made him read it three times, because he still stumbled over words. Then we did the spelling, and he had a hard time recognizing the words, which led me to say if you can't pronounce them, you won't recognize them when the teacher reads them and  you won't spell them correctly. Somehow at the end of the week, he aces the spelling test, but I always despair on the first day of a new list. We didn't even touch what he had to write about the book he read. After he left, I did a nice, relaxing yoga routine--don't know if it's tree or dancer or what, but I sure can't do the one where you stand on one foot and put the other foot on your opposite knee. Good thing I keep a chair there to hang on to.
The other day my neighbor said to me, "You don't have anything you have to do." I countered with the fact that I have a desk piled high with work to be done, and he said, "Those are things you choose to do." He's right, but I am so glad I choose to write, to blog, to read, to give the occasional program though it makes me nervous, to lunch and dine with friends. I even choose to do yoga, because I feel some sense of accomplishment at some of the poses I can do and I'm afraid of the consequences of inactivity. (I don't think tax organizers are a choice.) And I also choose to get Jacob every afternoon and do homework with him. I have chosen to build myself an entirely new life and career after retirement, and I couldn't be happier.
Do I miss the zoo and confusion of the weekend? Of course, but I'll see them all again soon.
If you'd like to be on the mailing list for my "only occasional" newsletter, please email me at j.alter@tcu.edu. Be sure to include your email address, please.
 

Charging ahead

A book is the greatest gift you can give a child

I seem to have rushed headlong into 2013 without a backward glance. It's only January 5, and I have a deskload of projects and am feeling the pressure of work--started a new novel and want to do something on it every day, a book to review, blogs to write, Facebook to keep up with as well as I can, and an edited collection of my blogs to work on for possible publication with a small press--their request. Trouble is I set my own goals and deadlines, and then have trouble convincing myself that the pressure I feel is self-generated, and the world won't end--nor will my career--if I don't make those deadlines. I think it's part of being a compulsive personality--I've never really learned to piddle well.
The novel is waking me up at five in the morning, my mind full of plot ideas. This morning I almost go up at six, but I really resent getting up before seven. When I got up though, I wrote down key words so I'd remember all those ideas. I now have enough to write way more than my daily thousand-word quota--but when will I find the time?
This morning was taken up by the mundane--empty the dishwasher, take out the garbage, water the plants, grocery store, dollar store (doesn't everyone have to have new hangers for the closet?), and do my yoga--first time in a week, and I could tell I was stretching muscles that had been stressed and not stretched. I've had a lot of company this week--last batch tomorrow--which means I've been on my feet and my low back hurts. Yoga was almost painful but I trust helpful.
Reading back blogs has been interesting--I find that I didn't used to feel obliged to post on my blog every night, and I may go back to that. My new plan is to post in the mornings, along with doing all other busy work such as yoga. But I'm trying to pull out the blogs that have to do with writing and collect them for a book on a writer's journey--haven't asked the publisher about this, but I shall in due time. My brother wants me to pull out all the blogs about family, and I think what discouraged me on the project was trying to do both at once. So yesterday I started with just culling posts or excerpts from posts that had to do with writing, and I got through about six months. But I have a long way to go--I've been blogging since July 2006.
On a sad note, my oldest son, Colin, and his family had to put their dog down today--a wonderful "island dog" they got as a puppy fifteen years ago on Grand Cayman. He'd had a great life-a Lisa said, he'd lived in three countries and two states--but was painfully arthritic and a malignant tumor had recently been diagnosed. No matter how much you know it's the right decision, it's a hard one to make. And particulary hard on young children--they were showering the dog with love with this morning and giving him more Begging Strips than was probably wise. I like to think he's running on the beach now, just as my Scooby is herding sheep in some heavenly pasture. I've heard it said that when you die, all the dogs you've ever loved are waiting to greet you.
And on a frustrating note, Blogger has changed the way they insert pictures, and I can't add the picture that I wanted to this blog. I wish they would stop "improving" things.

Once a day is not enough

If an ideal world, I would tell you I do my yoga routine once a day. Truth is, I'm doing well if I do it four times a week--as with a lot of other things such as writing, life gets in the way. What with Christmas and family and cooking and excitement, I didn't do any workout Sunday through Tuesday. Yesterday, Wednesday, when I did my routine I could feel how tight my muscles were and how good it felt to stretch and twist and loosen things up. My yoga routine was designed for me by my teacher--she knows what I'm capable of and what I shouldn't try. I can't, for instance, ever do a full plank because my old feet just won't bend that way; but I can do a half plank and do mini-push-ups in that position. And I can do some poses I'm pretty proud to have accomplished. Just can't remember the name of anything but boat. Elizabeth, who is tenant, friend, and yoga teacher, always pushes me to go farther: if I can hold boat for a count of twenty, I should begin to hold it for a count of thirty. Is she kidding? One thing I cannot do is sit and clasp the bottom of one foot with that leg flat on the floor--too many years (my entire professional life) spent at a desk have irreversibly shortened my hamstrings or whatever those muscles are. I've been doing yoga four years, more or less, and I still can't come close to straightening either leg. When I sit with legs flat on the floor, I can reach maybe mid-calf, and that hurts.
No matter, until today I felt quite righteous about my physical routine.Then I read an article on Facebook about recent research entitled "Don't Just Sit There." (see it here: http://www.nextavenue.org/article/2012-12/science-scolds-us-dont-just-sit-there). A research study has suggested that if you sit at a desk all day and then get up to exercise in the evening, you're still not getting the benefits of movement--.and you'll find it hard to lose weight. (Amen! I can testify!) It suggests getting up at least twice an hour to move about and taking phone calls standing up instead of sitting.
I thought about my daily routine and because, as I said, life gets in the way, I don't really sit at a desk all day. That's another ideal world that, for me, doesn't exist. I always have errands to run; there's the dog to care for, play with, let in and out; there are meals out with friends; and then there's my daily trip to the elementary school, and believe me, when Jacob's in the house, I don't sit still: I'm up getting snacks, homework supplies, etc. I'd get more written if I did sit at a desk all day. And I suspect during those rare times when I am at my desk for two or three hours, I get up once or twice an hour--a trip to the bathroom or hungry or thirsty or check the laundry.
How about you? Are you sedentary for hours? Maybe at a desk? Reading a book? Watching TV?