A great day with a sort of down ending

Note to self: now that it's getting dark, don't take late afternoon naps. I did today, woke up about 5:30, and was discouraged by the early arrival of twilight. Felt sort of sluggish. Tomorrow, of course, will be even worse. I was expecting Jacob about 5:30 for the night, so I flew out of bed...only to discover his baseball game was cancelled, he fell asleep, and wasn't spending the night tonight. So all in all I felt a bit letdown...but I cheered myself with large sea scallops, a half ear of corn, and a small salad for a late supper. So good.
Until that nap (maybe there's a lesson there), it had been a great day. Temperature this morning around seventy when I went to Central Market, so I put the top down on the car. Got all sorts of good things I didn't really need, came home and made a huge Greek casserole, sort of a version of pastitsio with ground lamb, penne pasta, and a ricotta sauce instead of bechamel. Cooking is my idea of a perfect Saturay morning, though the casserole is for tomorrow night's supper.
Read a book--Hank Phillipp Ryan's The Other Woman--while I ate lunch and then settled down to write. Got the scene rattling around in my brain finished--we'll see how it reads tomorrow. But I have one scene to go to finish the first draft of this novel, and, now rejuvenated by supper, I think I'll tackle it tonight.
After writing came that long, late nap, so I got to do all my favorite things today--cook, write, read, and nap. Still missing doing the puzzle with Jacob but there will be many other opportunities. And who knows? I may go work on it by myself. All in all a good day.
But I'm not happy about the end of daylight savings time. I rather like dark in the morning, and I love light evenings, dread the dark of winter even here in Texas,

Loverly Day

Today I feel like borrowing a word from Eliza Doolittle of  My Fair Lady--it was a loverly day! Not sure why that came into my mind, but it did. Started the morning at Central Market, which always pleases me because I love the fresh fruits and vegetables--and I bought lots. I've been keeping cucumbers in vinegar in the fridge, so had to stock up on those, and I'm making gazpacho this weekend--a big batch that will last a while--so I bought things for that. And potato salad. And corn on the cob--going to try roasting it in the oven in the husk. I've never been one to shun using the oven in summer--come on, it doesn't heat up the kitchen that much! I didn't quite shop till I dropped, but I had fun.
Then at noon, a signing at Z's Cafe--an eclectic place to say the least. How many small cafes have art on the wall and welcome authors for signings? It became a reunion of journalists as former employees of the Star-Telegram came to lunch and buy my book. I loved visiting with Cissy Stewart Lale, Doug Newsom (she didn't work at the paper--she was TCU faculty), Betty Bob Buckley, and Ann Miller-Tinsley. At another table, good friends Mary Rogers and Melinda Mason--gosh I hate to say how long Melinda and I have known each other, but I will say her mouth dropped open when I introduced Jordan to her. Jordan, sweet girl, came to support her mama--and visited with Mary and Melinda while eating Z's famous chicken salad. Others came--a former neighbor, the former principal of Jacob's school (who has a part in the books, much to her pleasure), a couple of women I didn't know but who knew Z's Cafe. It was all cheerful, upbeat, and delightful. And the food is so good. Special of the day was quiche, which those who had it said was wonderful--but they ran out before I got some. Next time. Meantime I had a terrific ham sandwich--not sure when I've had ham that good, and I eat a lot of ham. Sold 15 copies of No Neighborhood for Old Women and three of Skeleton in a Dead Space--not a bad lunch hour at all.
Home for a brief nap. Then I picked up Jacob and got us ready to go to his house for a Mexican pot luck supper. I had made an enchilada casserole--a cheater's casserole--but it had too many tortillas in it. Needed to be less bready. I am always so grateful that Jordan's friends welcome me so happily, and I was delighted when I told Jacob no, he could not have any more to eat because we were going to his house for supper, and he said, "Are you going too?" Of course, he wanted the top down, even though it was beastly hot.
As I always do, I came home early and then was grateful for the top down. Alex Beaton's Scottish ballads blasted out of my car (maybe I need a new Scottish tape for variety!). I even went the long way home so I could enjoy the drive and the music. Okay, I also admit a little voyeurism--there was a body found on a street where you wouldn't expect such to happen, and I went a bit out of the way to pinpoint the location. Man said he came home and found a dead woman, whom he didn't know, on his back doorstep. Absolutely fodder for a mystery. We recently also had a body found near the RR tracks in my neighborhood. My neighbor Susan says she's not sure but what my books are causing all this, as fiction becomes reality. Other way around, I'm going to work reality into fiction. My mind is whirling with thoughts.
Tomorrow, a lazy stay-at-home day fixing that gazpacho and potato salad--and maybe writing a piece about Etta Place.

A weary, lazy day--and a plea for help

Weary was the word for me today. I was up early to fix another big breakfast--bangers (sausages), bacon, oatmeal (porridge), and biscuits. I'm sure eating those breakfasts, even though I ate modestly, made me tired for one thing. I had thought to eat my cottage cheese and serve the Brits, but that didn't seem cordial to me. Besides, I enjoyed their company so much. After an early breakfast, they hustled off to finish packing, and I rinsed dishes. Got them out the door at 8:25 and as gone myself by 8:30 for a haircut.
In one word, my time with my British guests was delightful. I thoroughly enjoyed them, and we had such language fun. Bangers/sausages, chips/fries, porridge/oatmeal, boot/trunk--all thoses little things. The boys joined in, sometimes translating for me. I know another host family with musical inclinations, and they sang together and shared music--guess it depends on  your interest, but mine was words. They left me with beautiful prints of Canterbury Cathedral and a CD. But I confess that late nights, early mornings, and all else left me weary too. I wouldn't change a minute of it but I am tired. Spent the reset of the day being weary--except for stripping beds in the apartment and washing the linens, bringing in the food and things I'd left for their convenience--yeah, I wasn't all that lazy.
Tonight Jacob is spending the night, so I had the bright idea of taking him to Central Market--we'd get supper, eat at a table right by the playground, and have fun. The Latimers next door agreed to go too--Jacob and four-year-old Abby are great buddies. At just barely a year, Grayson is too little except to either smile charmingly or cry. Central Makret was a disaster--no tables, with people waiting for them, sporadic music ("Sweet Caroline" and others, not too loud--I loved that). Playground was beyond belief. By contrast, the grocery--which I ran through quickly, was empty and lovely. I told Meredith and Brannon that the next time I had a bright idea they should just politely say "No, thanks." On the way home, Jacob and I went by Curly's Custard Stand--peaceful and calm. Next time: hot dogs at Curly's and custard to follow--Jacob had chocolate tonight . Still, it was fun, and he's rolling around on the floor with Sophie now--she's delighted.
A plea to readers: If you like a book (particularly mine, of course), did you realize  you can go to the title page on Amazon and click the Like button right next to the title? It mkes a huge difference. And if you want to leave a reader's comment after you read--even one or two sentences--there's a place for that below. All of that helps the books immensely. Personally, if you've read my books, I'll be grateful for the help. Right now, of course, I'm particularly pushing Skeleton in a Dead Space, No Neighborhood for Old Women, Libbie (Kindle version) and Sundance, Butch and Me (Kindle version).  Never thought I'd go in for all those marketing techniques, but here I am.
A peaceful weekend ahead. I'm going to read--almost at the end of one novel, and may order another, though I have lots of work on my desk. Monday I go to Baylor to speak, and I really should be reviewing my notes--why do I keep avoiding it?

Good small things about a holiday weekend

When I had a houseful of teenagers, weekends, especially holiday weekends, were wonderful, crowded with my children and their friends coming and going. I routinely cooked Sunday dinner for at least ten and usually more. I loved the hectic atmosphere. But now that I live alone, weekends tend to be long, and I confess that I dreaded this holiday a bit. Then again, I'm a different person these days (I think)--more relaxed and able to go with the flow. I can spend a morning getting my household going, taking care of my animals and plants, reading email, exercising, showering--suddenly it's almost lunch time, and that's some of what happened this weekend. Another good thing was Jacob--he spent Friday night and is spending Sunday night with me. So here are a few things that I think made it a good weekend:
--Jacob and I spent Friday night in companionable silence. He was on his bed in the playroom, watching TV, worn out as he often is at the end of a school day; he likes me to be in the room but not bother him, so I usually find something I can do away from the computer. This night I sorted recipes, which for me is fun. We had a pleasant evening together.
--I spent a lot of time researching anchovies and anchovy recipes for my food blog, Potluck with Judy, and was pleased with the results--it could have been twice as long. But I'm not sure if anyone read it. Although I'm supposed to post it on Sunday nights, I got mixed up because I wrote it last night and went ahead and posted it. It's a funny thing about blogs--those you think will get lots of comments don't, and the most offhand comment on Facebook can draw twenty comments or more. I love anchovies, but if you're leery of them, check out this blog post. http://potluckwithjudy.blogspot.com.
--Saturday morning Jacob and I went to Central Market. I didn't have a long shopping list and didn't need meat, which often means waiting a long time. He had a delightful time riding on the end of the cart and putting his toys in the rack there--have you ever tried to steer a cart with an almost-fifty lb. boy child on the other end? Hard to do. (Yes, he's in the higher weight percentile and the doctor has begun to talk to his parents about his snacks.) We came home and had lunch--he ate almost a whole can of Spaghetti-Os, a half ear of corn, and a chocolate waffle. Maybe the latter was dessert?
--Saturday night and again Sunday morning I forgot about dietary cautions and indulged myself. Sat. night I put chocolate/mint sauce on one of the small ice cream cups I keep for Jacob and the other grandchildren (I never put chocolate sauce on them for anyone else); this morning I scrambled not one but two eggs with smoked salmon.
--Saturday night I went out on the porch with a glass of wine and a book, but the dead cone flowers caught my eye. Greg, who keeps my garden in order, is out on medical leave for three weeks, but these flowers really look ugly. They need to be cut back and the heads scattered where they are to seed for next year. I don't usually try it because my footing on the lawn is uncertain--no, let's say my confidence in my footing is uncertain. But last night I took clippers, a lightweight bench (can't bend over and cut flowers for more than two seconds and this one bunch took 45 minutes) and a walking stick and attacked one whole bed of cone flowers. A double-size bed to go but I'll do it bit by bit in the cool (?) of the evening.
--A wonderful irony: yesterday the mail brought a royalty check from Amazon for $25.26 and an electric bill for $251.76. Something out of whack with my income and outgo, but it made me laugh.
--Tonight Jacob and I labored over his letter to our friend Weldon, who does something with comic books and online stuff and asked for a letter from Jacob about Kung Fu Panda. Jacob dictated to me, but his letter was basically asking Weldon to buy him some toys and then "Have a good day, Weldon" which he repeated five times--I think he's listened to his parents too long. He also got the giggles trying to tell me how grumpy he was. Yeah, sure.
--I'm re-reading To Kill a Mockingbird. Scout's voice is right on, and it reminds me all over again how important voice is in fiction. I've always said that Elmer Kelton's voice carries his fiction, and now I've found another voice perfectly on pitch. I'm reading this because I'm to be on a panel on the book in August and thought it might be a pain--but the reading makes it all worthwhile.
Jacob and I will probably go to the neighborhood parade tomorrow and then before lunch he'll go off with his folks. But I'm sure tomorrow will bring it's own small blessings.

A mishmash day

No profound thoughts today. Got going pretty early, went to Central Market for just a few items--how do you go for just a few things and end up spending $45? I did it. Came home, dealt with about fifty e-mails, and went to the employees' book review lunch at TCU. A book by Wendi Pierce with Rick Steed on Historic Day Trips from Dallas/Fort Worth. Lots of history, which I find fascinating, though some was pretty bloody--they delved into such topics as the case of a man named Wilbarger who was the first Anglo to be scalped and survive. Apparently they read historical markers and then did research--kind of stuff I love. Susan Oakley, who puts these lunches together, asked what you do when you're with someone who doesn't want to stop at markers because "We're making such good time." It's that old dilemma--is the trip your goal or the destination. My ex-husband was of the school where you get in the car, go by the most direct method, and don't get out until you get where  you're going; I love backroads and small towns and bits of history. I remember the time a friend and I took an entire long day to drive from Amarillo to Fort Worth (normally a six-hour drive)--we drove around the square of every small town, stopped in junk stores, looked for the Waggoner mansion in Decatur, had a grand time. I'm afraid I'm too often a passenger in a car where the destination is the goal. Anyway, I enjoyed this book program--though I think my hearing is getting worse. Even with my hearing aids, I missed a lot of it.
Tonight  Betty and I went to one of our favorite places, Sapristi's. Usually we split the tapas platter, but it had spicy eggplant that the waiter assured us was really spicy (not for me) and a potato fritatta--the Spanish have a name for it that I can't remember, but I don't particularly care for it. So I had a delicious crab cake and a Caesar salad--so good!
Now I'm home wading through more e-mails and trying to collect my thoughts. My hectic week is turning out quite manageable, and the next two days look easy. I need to go back to my novel--have some good ideas for rewrites that I must study, but why rewrite until  you finish the darn thing? I think a part of my brain is waiting for the two other possible jobs--paying jobs, I should add. When I read Guppies posts (Going to be Published) I realize that I'm a real slacker. Those ladies devote every day to their writing, whereas I go back to it whenever, waiting for some sign from the heavens. Then again, they all e-mail so much that I don't know how they have time to write. It takes me much of the day just to read the e-mails.

Learning to Live with Yourself

Years ago, when I was married and had young children, our house always overflowed with people--for dinners, parties, just for happy hour, whatever. Someone said we lived that way to avoid talking to each other and in retrospect it may be true--we didn't really want to know what was going on with the other. Then when I was the single parent of high school and college kids, there was always a houseful. Friends worried how I would do when I lived alone (it came late--some of the kids hung around for a long time, and Jordan came and went until she was almost thirty). But I did just fine, loving cooking just what I wanted, the freedom to keep my own schedule (I keep an internal one and am not real flexible, but, hey, that's how I live best).
Still there were what I called "divorcees' damn dull weekends."
All these years later, this was one of them. Other than keeping Jacob Friday night (which is questionable as a social event) I had nothing on my calendar. I decided I could wallow in self-pity or enjoy it and get things done. And I did the latter. My only outing was to Central Market, where I bought fish for my dinner last night. I spent yesterday doing laundry napping, reading a manuscript and then a book I'm reviewing. By last night I had made a list of things I had to do today--that's the compulsive in me.
This morning, lingering over the paper, I thought that I had better get moving to get all that done by lunch, so I could work and nap in the afternoon (my usual pattern). So one by one I crossed things off the list: finished the laundry, made up the guest bed because Fran is coming to spend the night Monday, cooked a rather intricate dinner for myself (more about that another day), got a start on cooking for three friends tomorrow, set the table, did my yoga, and so on. I was tired by the time lunch time came. Did get my nap and read more on the book I'm reviewing. And tonight I have a really good supper waiting for me.
I don't think I could have happily done this five years ago. I feed on having people around me, and I usually try for some kind of sociability each day. So now I'm ready for social contat. Hmmmm--who should I call?
It's been a satisfactory weekend

Lazy rainy day and hectic evening

This is Jacob at the quietest moment of his whole evening here. Yes, he's sitting on an unmade bed, but that's another story--and it isn't the bed he is now, I hope, asleep in. He arrived in a fever of energy and kept it up all evening. If I tried to "read my papers" as he calls it, he demanded, "Juju! Juju! Come here." We played with his "transformers" (his name for small metal cars) endlessly, and we read books. The only time he watched TV was when I wanted him to eat dinner--his dinner as far as I can tell consisted of one bite of potato, lots of ketchup and three cups of milk. When he pitched a hissy fit during which I couldn't understand what he said, I pitched a hissy fit back so he'd see what it was like (I couldn't tell that he was impressed), then explained he'd have to tell me calmly what he wanted. Well, he didn't want ground beef--he wanted chicken nuggets. I told him beef was on the menu tonight and maybe I'd fix chicken nuggets (yuck!) the next time he comes to visit. For all his energy, he is an angel about bedtime. We set the timer for 10 more minutes of play, and then he went easily to read a book, go to the potty, get his night-time diaper, and then we cuddled for a bit. He always asks, "Will you cuddle me?" I remember that my mom used to cuddle with me until I was five and the night she announced I was too old, I cried for hours. The neighbors heard me. In retrospect, I think she could have eased me into it.

The papers I wanted to read tonight were a bonanza of cooking magazines that arrived in today's mail--both Southern Living and Bon Appetit. I sort of wish they both hadn't arrived on the same day, so I could draw out the pleasure. Jacob wanted to read Southern Living because it had a pumpkin on the cover. I was afraid he'd tear out pages, but he didn't. Still I haven't been through either one thoroughly yet, though I did pull a couple of good recipes. That's me--always pulling recipes, never sure I'll cook them.

Otherwise, it was a lazy rainy day. I did all the chores that I wonder how I did when I worked--Central Market, laundry, dishwasher, changed linens on the guest bed in preparation for company next weekend (explains the unmade bed Jacob is sitting on above), set the table for dinner tomorrow night, and so on. Then after lunch I did a few desk chores and got immersed in the manuscript I'm editing. Since I've been wondering lately about my creative abilities and ability to immerse myself in a project, this was fairly reassuring. In fact, though I thought I'd treat myself to the mystery I'm reading tonight, I think instead I'll keep editing. I really like it when I can smooth out someone's sentence, change passive to active voice, etc. Nothing major. Maybe my own novel will come next!

A cooking day and my writing dilemma

It's disconcerting to say the least to have a three-year-old look look at you early in the morning and say, "Your house is dirty." I think (hope) he was referring to the permanent gouges in the 80-year-old tile floor in my bathroom. Still, when his mother asked why he said that, I replied, "Because it is." Neat? Yes. Clean? Not quite. Needs a good cleaning.

Today was a cooking day. I had my standard Saturday lunch--tuna salad from the market, grape tomatoes, and hearts of palm. But after a nice nap, I put together a meatloaf for Jacob and Christian tomorrow night. I'll stick it in the oven in the late afternoon, along with some baking potatoes--they can have sour cream, and I'll have yogurt on mine. I wanted to get it all done ahead of time because I'll have Jacob almost all day. But then for supper, I thought of Tod Davies' Jam Today and did not buy fresh seafood, my usual habit when I'm alone on a Saturday night. At first, I told myself I would invent my own meal without going back to read her recipes, but I weakened--I wanted to know what she did with sage and with beets. Central Market always has beets with lovely fresh beets with greens--today, for the first time ever, they had only beets, biggest beets I've ever seen, but no tops. So I roasted them in foil, skinned them, sliced, and while still warm put them in a simple vinaigrette. Hours later, cold, they were delicious and didn't leak red beet juice all over everything on the plate.

I had decided I'd have eggs, so before my neighbor came for a glass of wine, I laid out all my ingredients--three large mushrooms, sliced, some chopped scallions, smashed garlic cloves, butter, some Parmesan to grate, and three slivered sage leaves. Put the eggs out because somewhere I have it in my mind that warm eggs cook better than ones straight from the fridge. When I came to cooking it, I sauteed everything but the eggs and cheese in butter and olive oil. Then added the eggs, a bit of wine, and soft scrambled them--except they got away from me and weren't as creamy as I like them. You really have to watch every minute, and while I grated cheese, they started to turn hard. Still the flavor was good--mushrooms really dominated, along with garlic, but I honestly didn't taste the scallions or sage. I'll have to try the sage trick again--maybe using more. Maybe my sage doesn't have as much flavor. Don't know. Still it was a good supper, and I have come in under my Weight Watchers points--okay, I ate chocolate and got up to my limit. But you don't get credit for unused points, so why not?

I guess you would call me a foodie, though I'm not sure about the term. Central Market has little signs on some products that say "Foodie Choice" or "Foodie Find" and I think they have an army of foodies, who direct customers, etc. But fellow author Sylvia Dickey Smith sent me an article from the Austin American-Statesman about foodies who are sporting tattoos signifying their interest. A cook at Thai Fresh has an avocado on one arm and broccoli on the other; cupcakes are apparently not only popular as a newly rediscovered food but also as a tattoo, and one owner of a cupcake store sports egg beaters--of course, her husband is the tattoo artist. I want my children to rest assured--I will not be doing that.

Last night I wrote a difficult email to an author who had submitted a novel, telling her I didn't think it was for an academic press but more for a commercial one. I could, I said, send it out for critique, but I was fairly sure it would come back with extensive revisions recommended, at the least. She wrote back that she wanted to revise, wanted to make it the best she could, and would appreciate the critique. She said she could have sent it to her mystery publisher, and they would have published as is, but that's not what she wants. I really admire her attitude, so I'm going to send this one on for a second reading, though I indicated what I saw as a few problems.

Which brings me to my own dilemma. A publishing house has had the first in what I hope is a mystery series since January; in June, they asked to keep it a little longer, since they were waiting for a green light to acquire for 2011. I agreed. Last week they said they had only recently gotten the green light and were reading the manuscripts in the queue--mine was at the second level of review (not sure what that means). Meantime I'm not inspired to work on the sequel--although I could. I've cleared my desk of major projects--or at least have them done to a point I'm waiting on others before I can move ahead. So I've sort of got an empty desk--not a feeling I welcome. I can only read so much, and then I begin to feel guilty. I can and should clean closets, bookshelves, and finish the memory book that the kids gave me at retirement--those are probably the things I'll do. But I feel a new idea for a novel rattling around in the back of my brain. It just won't come to the front. Maybe some good cleaning and clearing will also help clear my brain. I do know the new novel will have to do with food.

Of funerals and grocery stores

I've been thinking about the different worlds we all live in. As a Texas resident, I naturally live in the world of the United States--and as such I've been glued to the TV much of the day watching Ted Kennedy's funeral and the burial at Arlington Natonal Cemetery. I thought it all impressive and well done--the music was superb, the speeches of the two sons moving and unforgettable, the determined stoic calm on the widow's face, punctuated occasionally by great sadness, so moving I cried for her. Ted Kennedy was a man with large warts, many faults in his past, but he was a man who believed in redemption by good works, as do I, and he certainly did his share of good works in the name of the public good--and the forgotten small people of this country. Kennedy truly believed the biblical injunction that we are our brothers' keepers. He was a voice for the unheard, a loud voice in the Senate, and a man much to be admired, whatever your political beliefs. His loss will be felt in Congress and the country, and he is probably irreplaceable, no matter what Kennedy comes forth to carry on his work. At the end of the day, I felt like I'd been to his funeral though, of course, I only witnessed it on TV.

But I live in another world (one of many I inhabit), that of Texas literature, and we too suffered a loss, leaving a hole that cannot be filled. Elmer Kelton, Texas' most beloved novelist, died a week ago and his funeral was Thursday. There couldn't be more contrast between the two funerals I've "attended" this week. Kennedy's was full of the pomp and circumstance that goes with the Kennedy name, the Catholic Church, and his position in government--it was elaborate, a huge cathedral, a beautifully orchestrated choir, soloists like Placido Domingo and Yo Yo May. Elmer's funeral was low key, the kind of plain, Methodist service he would have wanted--two hymns, an organist who was really good and kept the music at a lively pace instead of letting it drag into dirge-like slowness, a minister who was blessedly informal, telling anecdotes about Elmer and his testy relationship with horses. Elmer's loss will be felt in Texas literature--and western American literature--every bit as much as Ted Kennedy's will be felt in Congress. And like Kennedy, Elmer is irreplaceable--there's not anyone likely to come along to replace his combination of knowledge of ranching life and history and his passion for telling it.

So two of my worlds (there are many more--family, for instance) have been disturbed, and I am grateful to have been part of the tribute to the departing giants of both.

On a more light-hearted note, my trip to two grocery stores this morning proved my theory that southwest Fort Worth is like a small town. I asked for a roasting hen at Central Market, and the butcher, a young woman, said, "We have roasters--I don't know if they're hens." I told her that would be fine, and when she had it wrapped up I remarked, "That will make a great chicken loaf." She asked if I had my spices, and I said I didn't need any. I use saltines. That sparked a question, and soon I was telling her how I make chicken loaf--she kept asking questions, and I finally suggested she look for Cooking My Way Through Life with Kids and Books, which has the recipe--darn! I had stuffed my credit card in my pocket so didn't have my purse and a business card to give her. In the produce department of Central Market, I saw the biggest onions I've ever seen--the size of an acorn squash. And they were "sweet onions" from Hatch, New Mexico. Of course, we're celebrating Hatch chilies now. When I got out of the car at Central Market, I wondered what I smelled--it was roasting Hatch chilies.

The same smell followed me to City Market, where I usually shop on Friday and indeed had done so yesterday. I love their tuna salad, but somehow forgot to buy it yesterday (maybe because Jeannie and I were going to lunch and I didn't need it at noon) so I went back today. I told the girl behind the deli counter, who is now my friend, that I forgot it yesterday, and she said she saw me picking up wine and had my tuna all dished up--but I didn't stop for it. See, I told you it was a small town!

Trivia: With Brandon's advice, I finally got my remote mouse and keyboard working again, and I am a happy camper. I can tell the aches and pains of my back, from recent days of twisting to use the remote cursor, are already going away. Now if he could only help me find the monitor that I wear around my neck for my telemergency system, I'd be a happy camper--I have looked everywhere, even in the most remote places, and cannot find it. Tonight I had sauteed scallops, with scallions and cherry tomatoes, for supper--so good. And then I sat on the porch. Cool weather has come to Texas, and it's wonderful--a perfect porch night.

Animals--and a lazy day in which I try to come to grips with retirement

When I walked into my brother's house Thursday, his dogs barked at me as though I am public enemy number one--it's pretty awe-inspiring to have two large German shepherds and a small but feisty mixed breed--I think she's part blue heeler--barking at you. The little dog and one shepherd got over it, but the larger one, called Puppy, didn't until I was almost ready to leave. He barked every time I got up from a chair, came into a room, etc. And then Saturday, to everyone's dismay, one of the two shepherds--who can tell which?--lifted his leg in the house, something I was told they never do. "I don't know what's wrong with these dogs," John complained. Well, I came home to a similar situation--my dog and cat have been punishing me for leaving them for two days. Wynona the cat simply won't eat, although he's done a bit better today. Yesterday I brought Scooby in when I got home, as I usually do on hot afternoons. He napped on his bed next to mine, but when I got up, he didn't. I kept asking him if he was ready to go out and was answered when he slinked further down into his bed. By eight, I told him he had to go out, eat and poop before he came in for the night. Got a leash and pulled him outside, whereon he promptly dumped over his dish, spilling all the food, and did not eat (so that was his breakfast this morning!) I brought him in about nine and kept him in my office with me. I often leave him in the office alone, because it's a place of refuge for hm. Well, last night, with me sitting right there, he pooped all over! I thought he had bad gas until I got up and stepped in it! I yelled, he cringed, and it was awful. Today he's kept to his routine, went out when asked at five, just came back in at eight. Maybe we're getting back to normal.
Lazy day--I went to Central Market and Barnes & Noble and otherwise stayed home doing I don't know what! Read and answered emails, read a book, napped and let the day drift away. Now I have a pot full of work to be done--that cookbook to edit, an article for the history of the Texas College of Osteopathic Medicine, some guest blogs to write, the Google Book Settlement to keep working on. Did I do any of it today? Not a bit.
I did draft a column about Elmer Kelton for the Dallas Morning News, and I'll polish it tonight and get it off. Tomorrow, the cookbook--of course, I have to ride my bike and will probably do it in the morning since I'm going to lunch with Jean and supper with Jordan, Christian and Jacob. Retirement sure is a hard life.

Cooking Class

So here I am, overfed, stuffed, and maybe just a little woozy from too much wine. I've been to a cooking class at Central Market taught by Terry Thompson-Anderson, a chef from the Hill Country who really pushes Texas foods and wine. We had an appetizer of mushrooms and Spanish chorizo in triple sherry cream sauce on toasted baguette slices (absolutely wonderful), a salad of Bibb lettuce and arugula with fresh figs, blue goat cheese (who knew there was such a mixture--it's from Texas, of course) and pecan pieces, with a honey/lemon vinaigrette. The entree was applewood smoked bacon-wrapped quail with ancho chili and honey sauce on a bed of soft polenta with jalopenos. I'm always leery of peppers but these were so gentle they just tingled the taste buds. And dessert? Fredericksburg peach and white chocolate bread pudding with schnapps whiskey sauce and chantilly cream. I was only going to take a bite but I ate the whole serving. Granted, they were all small servings. In Terry's recipes, two quail serve one person--we each got half a quail, though a huge quantity of polenta--which I didn't eat except for a little bit. And the dessert was in small servings. They poured four wines, though I bowed out of the reds and had a great voignier (Brennan Vineyards 2008) and a little bit of muscat with dessert but it was too sweet for me.
I've met and corresponded with Terry--she came to our Autograph Extravaganza once to sign her beautiful book, Texas on a Plate, and then I included her in my small book, Great Texas Chefs. So it was particularly important to me to go to the class tonight, and I enjoyed it thoroughly (wished I'd worn my hearing aids, because I really had to concentrate).
Terry's recipes are really complicated, and I don't know that I'll duplicate them. One from Texas on a Plate that I've always wanted to try is quail with pepper and coffee gravy.
I am not even going to try to enter this evening's meal in Weight Watchers. As one of the servers said to me, "Honey, you've eaten all your points for the week tonight." And I probably did. But it was sure good.

Writers' block on Valentines Day

I swore that today was the day I would break through my writers block on that second mystery. The day loomed empty before me except for a trip to Central Market--perfect time to devote myself to "the" novel. But first, Central Market: I have learned a lesson. Never go there the day before Super Bowl or on Valentines Day. It's like a zoo, particuarly the seafood and meat markets. I wanted the free lb. of salmon (packaged and ready to go--you didn't have to wait for that) and something for supper tonight. In my usual rut, I was thinking Dover sole, but then I saw small Maine lobster tails--the per pound price was high, but it said the average tail sold for just under $5. Perfect, I'd have lobster salad in an avocado. Well, when they said small, they meant it; I wished I'd bought two. And when they put a sticker on an avocado saying it's ready to eat, they're already a day late. But my supper tonight was good--a bit of asparagus, some grape tomatoes, the lobster salad on what I could salvage of the avocado, and some sauteed asparagus. And, it being Valentines Day, I'll have some chocolate in a bit.
I did devote much of the afternoon to the novel and will get back to it shortly. Discovered in all my rewriting and juggling, I had some events really out of sequence, so the first challenge tonight is to fix that. And I did write in a few new scenes--but I haven't actually moved ahead with new copy. Tomorrow is a busier day, but maybe by the Sunday night I can have one or two new pages. That's my goal.
I follow several mystery writers' blogs--might as well give them a plug: Writers Plot, The Outfit: A Collective of Chicago Crime Writers, Cozy Chicks, The Diva Dishes, Jungle Red Writers, Fatal Foodies. But I was amused and interested by a couple of postings last night. One author wrote that she watches shows like Survivor, American Idol , etc. to get ideas for people for her books--she draws the line at The Biggest Loser. Her contention was that no one wants to read about ordinary people. For some reason, Confederacy of Dunces came to mind, a book which, with all respect to the deceased author, I could never read--but lots and lotsof people bought and enjoyed. But on another blog, one with many contributors, the discussion revolved around why so many TV shows and books and movies are so dark. One author pointed out that we can't attribute it to the current economic downtown--the Great Depression produced entertainment that was fun (I think she named Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, among others) and gave people hope that there were better days ahead. I don't know why noir is so fashionable right now, but it doesn't intrigue me. And contrary to the author who watches TV to find bizarre characters, I want to write about ordinary people going about their lives. Murder just seems to happen around them. Okay, I was a big fan of Jessica Fletcher and "Murder, She Wrote."
We've been weather-spoiled lately--temperatures in the 70s, but today it barely got to the '50s and was still in the '40s when I went out to the store. I've been cold all day and spent the time at my desk with a prayer shawl over my knees. My neighbor's mother knit it in the church knitting group, and I suspect I was the happy recipient because she knits so many she runs out of people to give them to. Nonetheless, it's warm and cozy and I love it--and I try to say a prayer for others when I wrap it around me.
Back to No Neighborhood for Old Women.