Chirstmas in Tahoe with a really busy author

Please welcome my Wednesday weekly guest, prolific author Kathi Daley. Her energy, from writing to cooking, sports, and gardening, amazes me. Leave a comment for Kathi, if nothing else then to say where do you get so much energy? Do you sleep?

 

It’s snowing as I write this. Huge Christmas snow that drifts slowly to earth, dancing to and fro, before it lands gently on the frozen surface of the meadow outside my window. The house is quiet and I am alone with only my thoughts, a crackling fire, and my dogs for company. I am lucky enough to live in a small community situated on one of the largest alpine lakes in the world. My house is surrounded by forest, making visits from the forest animals who call our region home a daily occurrence. While small-town living is not for everyone (just ask my sons, who couldn’t wait to move to a larger town the moment they graduated high school) I love it and couldn’t in all honesty see myself living anywhere else.

Christmas on the mountain is a particularly magical time of year. The small towns around the lake go all out to welcome holiday visitors with white lights shining from store windows, huge trees decorated with Christmas ornaments, and festive red bows displayed to draw in last-minute shoppers. Most years we have snow blanketing the area to allow for the much-anticipated opening of the ski resorts for which Tahoe is known. For me, Christmas is about spending time with family and friends as I juggle the demands of baking and decorating to ensure that every holiday is a memorable event.

Somewhere between enjoying the outdoor sports I love and my volunteer work in the community, I write two cozy mystery series. My Tj Jensen Paradise Lake Mysteries are full-length cozies of approximately 300 pages. The series is set in a small alpine town near a large freshwater lake, and the protagonist is a high-school gym teacher who lives on the family resort where she grew up. Books in this series are published three-to-four times per year.

I also write a series I think of as a cozy lite. Each book is between 150 and 200 pages, with a new story coming out every six-to-eight weeks. This series is also set in a small alpine town where the protagonist, Zoe Donovan, is the owner of a wild and domestic animal rescue and rehabilitation center. If you love having animals as a focal point in a story, you will love this series. My readers tell me that the appeal of these short books is the ongoing interaction between the characters as they live out their lives.

In addition to my cozy mystery series, I published a mystery/romance this holiday season. Road to Christmas Past is a heartwarming story about a woman who receives an early Christmas gift from her dead aunt and sets out across the country with a handsome PI to follow the clues to a family she never knew she had.

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Kathi Daley lives with her husband, kids, grandkids, and Bernese Mountain dogs in beautiful Lake Tahoe. When she isn’t writing, she likes to read (preferably at the beach or by the fire), cook (preferably something with chocolate or cheese), and garden (planting and planning, not weeding). She also enjoys spending time on the water when she’s not hiking, biking, or snowshoeing the miles of desolate trails surrounding her home. 

Books by Kathi: Zoe Donovan Mysteries: Halloween Hijinks, The Trouble with Turkeys, Christmas Crazy, and Cupid’s Curse (January 2014); Tj Jensen Paradise Lake Series: Pumpkins in Paradise, Snowmen in Paradise (January 2014); and Road to Christmas Past, a mystery/romance.

Visit Kathi:

Facebook at Kathi Daley Books

Twitter at Kathi Daley @kathidaley

Webpage www.kathidaley.com

Email: kathidaley@kathidaley.com

 

Thoughts on Newtown

I didn't blog last night. There was nothing to say, and as one friend put it, I was rattled. There is still nothing to say, nothing we can do to ease the pain of the people of Newtown. We can send prayers and thoughts to those who lost loved ones; we can send donations to the mental health services of Newtown for counseling for survivors. But for a long time, none of it matters. There are families for whom there will be no Christmas this year and life will never again be the same. I cannot wrap my mind around the agony of sending a child off to school and then learning that he or she will never be coming home again.
Almost all that can be said has been said on Facebook--and some that should never be said. Like a declaration that there always has been evil in the world and always will be. Really? Should we just sit back and accept massacres in public places as a fact of life? Or, even worse, the pronouncements that the reason this happened is because there is no prayer in schools. That insults the God I believe in. I do think a moment of quiet in school would be appropriate so that each child could pray or meditate in the religion in which they are being raised. But the folks who bring this up mean Christian prayer, and that is wrong in our increasingly diverse culture. And I was outraged by a columnist who suggested that in his news conference President Obama faked tears. The hatred in this country runs so deep it's no wonder we have mass killings.
Sensible public opinion seems to come down to two things: mental health and gun control. The first is tricky. How do you legislate mental health, which to my mind includes the deep vein of hatred? Apparently we can't rely on family and friends to identify a problem and seek help. But we can't institute laws whereby I could say, "You know, so-and-so isn't acting right" and cause "so-and-so" all kinds of grief. It's called invasion of privacy or violation of civil rights. But somehow we have to get a handle on this problem of young men (for the most part) who harbor such irrational anger at the world that they kill strangers in large numbers.
Gun control is almost easier, except it's not. The NRA and its lobbyists are powerful and have deep pockets. Legislators who tabled consideration of extending the ban on assault weapons should hang their heads in shame. There is no reason for citizens to have assault weapons. Apparently none was used yesterday--I got into a long Facebook thread about what kind of weapon was used, until I finally threw up my hands and asked, "What the hell does it matter? Children are dead." I hope President Obama will show as much courage and determination in dealing with this problem as he is showing about the fiscal cliff. Now is the time for action, while the public is outraged. The NRA has held us hostage long enough.
Personally I would ban all guns, except perhaps hunting rifles, though I was amused today when someone pointed out that hunters only shoot at things who can't shoot back. So do terrorists who kill young children. Yes, there will always be illegal handguns but the more we can control, the better. I was appalled to read this morning that a Texas school district has armed its teachers. Wrong solutioin, so wrong.
Last night I shared a post of statistics about deaths by guns in this country compared to the number in other "civilized" countries. Apparently, the statistics were hopelessly out of date, and I apologize (one of the dangers of Facebook). But it is still true that more people in this country are killed by guns than in any other country in the "civilized" world. Yesterday over twenty school children and a teacher in China were attacked by an assailant weilding a knife. No one died. If that doesn't speak volumes, I don't know what does.
There is still nothing to say. My heart is still broken as I think about the families in Newtown and as I watch six-year-old Jacob decorating a gingerbread man and think how precious he is. That's what this season should be about--joy and wonder--not death and grief that will never go away. No I don't think we as a nation are lost and beyond hope. But I do think it's past time we took a good long look at ourselves and then moved to action.
Happy holidays everyone, and as you hold our loved ones tight, remember the people of Newtown. They will never again be the same, and Christmas will always be bitter for them.

 

Home for the holidays

As the holidays approach, I get sort of sentimental about Christmases gone by. I remember the days when I automatically expected my grown children home for Christmas. Sure, when they married, we alternated years with in-laws and frequently we went to Santa Fe, but still they sometimes had Thanksgiving and/or Christmas in my house. Those days are gone—my family has grown too large to fit comfortably in my house; their houses are larger, and I admit dinner for sixteen is an effort for me. It’s all part of changing family dynamics that have been on my mind lately.

I raised four children, as a single parent from the time they ranged in age from six to twelve—those years I call the “casserole years” when I was in the car chauffeuring more than I was out, years when I was still at the core of their world and I knew almost everything they did (okay, there were some stories I heard years later that singed my hair).

I remember what a great shock it was to me when I realized that my children, now scattered across Texas, were communicating with each other without going through me. One would tell me the other was traveling, and I would bristle: why hadn’t they told me? Or some such similar thing. I thought I was Telephone Central, just as I thought I was Holiday Central. But I’ve learned, sometimes the hard way, that they have their own families and their own loyalties—they love me, but I am not at the center of the universe.

Today I have seven grandchildren. Each in his or her own way shows me affection, but I know it’s not the same as when my children were those ages and I was the center of their world. I remember babysitting Jacob one night when he was maybe eight months old. He woke with a bad dream, so I rocked him and he clung to my chest tightly and eventually went to sleep there. I hadn’t had a baby sleep on my chest and so look to me for comfort in years and it brought tears of joy. But if his mommy had been there, he would have gone to her—no question about it. And I know as much time as I spend with Jacob and as much as he loves me, his parents are the center of his world. He’ll ask, “When are my mommy and daddy coming?” I can never nor would I ever intrude on that relationship. I’ve had my day and it was wonderful. Now I’m grateful that I am still so much a part of the family and still so loved by my children and grandchildren.

IF you ask me my priorities in life, I’ll tell you always I’m a mom and a grandmom first, then I’m an author, and my third role (in order of significance) used to be that I was a publisher. Today I’m grateful I have an independent life that doesn’t depend totally on my family—I rather imagine they’re grateful for that too.

Rethinking my world

Maybe the holidays are a good time to stand back, look at your life, and rethink what you're doing. I've been charging merrily ahead, eyes always on the mystery I'm working on or the next one, but suddenly I've begun to wonder if that's what I want to do, if that's what I do best. All sorts of questions arise--if not mysteries, what? I won't, can't, don't want to give up writing, and I'd like to make money at it, but do I want to be in the oh-so-competitive world of cozy mysteries? Don't get me wrong--mystery writers are more supportive of each other than any group of people I've ever known, but there are so many of us that all except the stars are little fish in a big pond. When I was at TCU Press, I focused the list on Texas literature because that ultimately made us a big fish in a small pond. Is that my problem? Is it an ego problem?
In this day when independent authors are so much more accepted, and some making big bucks, do I need a publisher? Can I do for myself what they do? The answer is I doubt it, unless I come up with a smashing, unusual idea for a series. So far my cozies are, if I do say so, run-of-the-mill--they fit the genre nicely, they have interesting characters, they are a good cozy evening's read--at least I hope all those things are true. But they aren't breakthrough, mind-bogglingly wonderful.
I've just read the second of Susan Elia MacNeal's Maggie Hope series, about a young woman in England in the early years of WWII who ultimately becomes a spy--first a private secretary to Prime Minister Churchill where, believe me, she's privy to all sorts of secrets, and then in the second book as a "maths" tutor to Princess Elizabeth (now the Queen) and a spy sent to protect the young Lilibet. The history behind these books is solid, the plots good, and I'm hooked. It's the kind of thing I'd like to come up with.
When I first determined to write a mystery, I wanted one published mystery under my belt. Then, I told myself, I'd be happy. Of course it doesn't work that way--I've published three, a fourth is at the publisher, the fifth is written in draft, and I have plans for the sixth. Is that where I want to stop? I have no idea.
But the holidays are a good time to put all that on the back burner, where I truly do believe things simmer in your subconscious. I've started wrapping presents, and tonight I did my first baking--chocolate banana bread. This weekend, with everyone else already out of town, I'll decorate the house. I do love this time of year, and I do tend to put everything aside and focus on the holidays.

A down day

Maybe my mood today was influenced by the news out of  the East, but I was so inundated with pictures of devastation beyond imagining that I half expected to see water standing in the streets when I went out. And the day didn't get any better.
This is a very short post because, once again, I spilled wine on my wireless keyboard--actually under it--and killed it. I find it hard to type on a laptop, especially when I keep turning to look at the larger monitor screen on my desk. I foresee a stiff neck. I immediately ordered a new one and paid exorbitantly to have one-day delivery from Amazon; promptly got a notice from UPS that my package would be delivered Friday! It could be a couple of other things, but I suspect it's the keyboard. Called Amazon--they assured me the keyboard will arrive tomorrow. Hope this isn't the beginning of one of my classic runs of three mishaps in a row.
I did do two new things today and most people will laugh that they're new to me. When the six o'clock news on NBC was over, Btian Williams said they would go on another half hour on some stations, and if our local station didn't do it to watch it on NBC Nightly news where it would be streaming live (is that the phrase?). Anyway, I did. So now I'm not intimidated by that idea any more.
And I ordered a print from CVS--uploaded it from my computer. We'll see tomorrow how that works out. I have a fancy photo tray on my new printer, but I lexperimented (another bold step) and found I don't know how to size a photo properly. Hoping CVS will do that for me.
Without a keyboaard that I can write pages on, I did a lot of Christmas planning today and found I'm almost through shopping. That's a bright point in the day!

Family, family, family

My two sons have a running "thing" about who is my favorite. Colin will call me with "Hi, Ma, it's me, your favorite son" and Jamie will post on Facebook, "Mom, I know you love me a lot but we have to remember you have another son and we don't want to hurt his feelings." So I got two shirts that said, "Mom likes me best" and made them open them simultaneously. They thought I had scored, so thanks to friend Sally for finding these.
Have you ever slept on an air mattress? One with a leak? We air it up before I got to bed but it gets quite soft during the night--then it's hard to move in the bed because it seems to envelop me, and it's hard to get up. I can't get the support to stand up. I finally decided it's best to roll off, get on all fours, and stand up from there. But the corker came this afternoon when I took up a nap. I had pushed the mattress close to the bookcase and put the phone on a shelf so I could check the time. Rolled over to do that and the whole mattress came with me, standing on its side. I was trapped by the covers. After two tries I extricated myself but I had visions of having to call the children, which would have a) made them laugh, and b) convinced them I need a keeper.
The funny thing about all this is that my grown kids are on a protective kick about me. Yesterday, as I took rolls out of the lower oven, my hand brushed the rack and got a tiny burn, momentary discomfort. Meantime Megan demanded that I let go of the pan--she was sure I was falling and about to put my hand on the oven door. In truth, I only needed someone to push the rolls back onto the rimless cookies sheet. But it was "Mom, after this, let us get things out of the lower oven!"  My reaction was a vehement "No! I'm capable." I've had a cold, the kind that makes you snort and snuff in the morning and leaves a lingering cough. So I've dealt with threats to take me to an ER clinic in spite of my protests that feel fine and it's just a cold.
I'm protesting that if they keep this up, they'll make me old before my time. Their argument--mostly Colin--is that I'm of an age where a fall can have serious consequences (didn't tell them I tripped on bed clothes yesterday and took a hard fall) and pneumonia can be serious, etc. Compromise: I will call my doctor's office tomorrow.
A Christmas Eve photo that I find beond sweet: They're staring at the reindeeer food they put out, waiting for reindeer to appear. Unfortunately it rained and as someone said the reindeer food turned to oatmeal. Still, the hopefulness of children is so much a part of Christmas and its joy. I've read posts that say "Okay, we're done with Christmas. Let's move on." I'm not ready to let go of the spirit. The first child left today, a whole family will be leaving in a few minutes, but we've had three glorious days together.

The holiday spirit

Catch the holiday spirit at the TCU Press Annual Autograph Extravaganza, Fri. Dec. 3, 5-8 p.m., the Kelly Alumni Center on Stadium Drive on the TCU campus. Thirty authors will sign their books, Jan Reid will talk about his new novel, Comanche Sundown, and there'll be refreshments (cash bar). It's always a lot of fun and you just might find yourself chatting with mystery author Deborah Crombie or Alex Lemon or Texas Poet Laureate Karla Morton or some of the ladies who wrote Grace & Gumption and its companion cookbook. Come, mingle, shop for books for Christmas gifts, and have a great time.
Santa is in full view at my house these days. No tree, but Santa everywhere--and manger scenes. I've decorated the dining table, buffet, library table and mantel.

 Last night I decided to put the finishing touches on the mantel by adding white lights. Lesson learned: put up lights before decorations (I know to do that on trees but didn't know it applied to the mantel). I knocked half the ornaments off (thank goodness not my mom's beloved Madonna and Child). I did knock off a wonderful creche scene in a gourd made in Central or South America and sent me by dear friends. Several of the figures came loose, but I repaired it with flour-and-water paste and toothpicks. Quite proud of myself, even if the Madonna's halo is a bit crooked--that's a tiny space for my big hands. I was creating (I hoped) a Mother and Child theme for the mantel--since I couldn't find the candlesticks that usually give it some sort of unity and organization. At the center is the nativity scene below, made by women in a South American village. They have completely rejuvenated the economy of their town with these manger scenes. My friend Linda, who owns Almost Heaven on the square in Granbury, gave me this several years ago, and I have since given several for gifts.



Not everyone has the holiday mood. A group called the Dallas Fort Worth Coalition of Reason has taken advertising space on public transportation buses for signs that proclaim, "Some people are good without God." Basically, they're atheists trying for equal time but at the wrong time of the year. Reactions vary--one Facebook post called it "God-bashing" and said a sign to the effect of "Be good for goodness sake" would be acceptable but not one that draws God in. My friend Fred said at lunch today, "Some people need to get a life." I read one atheist who justified the signs by saying, "Christians can't think they own December," and that smacked of bitter grapes to me and, yes, God-bashing. I'm really sorry they can't share the joy of the season. After all, it isn't just Christmas--it's also Chanukkah and Kwanza.

The rest of you all, revel in the joy of December. It's a special time of year.



Taking charge

The publishing world is, as most people know these days, being swept by changes and nobody knows how it will work out. The popularity of e-readers jumps astronimcally almost every month--still a small percentage but the growth is amazing; many small presses are turning to print-on-demand technology, which gets better daily; and the big six or eight publishers left after conglomeration are increasingly unwilling to consider new authors or to promote their authors. They want the big bucks that only a few big names can supply--George W. Bush comes to mind, because his book will sell mega-thousands, maybe a million.
Most of us don't even have our eye on stardom--we write because we write and, yes, we'd like to be published, and we'd like to make a little money. Agents, however, want to make big bucks, just like the big publishers, whose day may be fading. All of this is turning midlist authors, newbies, and some others to small presses and e-book publishing, which can make big bucks. There's been lots of the Guppies listserv and a new listserv named GuppyPressQuest (both closed lists) about taking charge of your career rather than, as one writer put it, standing outside the stadium waiting for a scalper (read agent) to sell you a ticket. Well, since I've been released by my agent--oh, I so wanted to do the releasing--I've taken this to heart and am working hard on several aspects: reviewing the rejected novel and also giving it to my mentor, Fred, to read, working on establishing my presence (or platform, as they say) on the web, and investigating how to get my backlist scanned into pdfs so I can post it on Kindle and Smashwords. Also reading We Are Not Alone: The Writer's Guide to Social Media, which has good hints for "establishing my platform" but is sometimes heavy reading. Still I've followed through on some--i.e., read my revised profile on this page. Also, expect some content change on this blog--more focus on writing and books, particularly cozy mysteries.
Then I decided I'd better take charge of other aspects of my life, so I rejoined Weight Watchers--I've gained nine lbs. since the low I hit before I quit the program and with the holidays coming up . . . . And I've been trying to plan for Christmas a bit for some time, but now I've made a shopping list so I can bake and stock the freezer this weekend, and Christian got my wrappings out of the attic for me last night, so tonight I wrapped a whole bunch of presents. Now must track down the gifts I bought and can't find, and get the rest of the family to give me some hints. I'm feeling righteous about all I did today--laundry, plant care, rode my stationary bike 5 miles in 25 minutes, went to a Book Ladies breakfast, had lunch with Fred. Whoosh, retirement is not easy.

Cold, clear, snowy day

A confession: I had most mixed emotions about this vacation: I don't particularly like cold weather, I am nervous on mountain roads, and with  apprension, my balance went south. Colin ordered me not to walk outside without holding on to someone else, adding that none of the family wanted their vacation spoiled by a broken hip and adding ominously that broken hips could be fatal. So over some family objections I commandeered the only bedrom on the same floor as the main living area (it's also the master and the biggest, but I figure age has its privileges).

Well, today, I had a wonderful time and decided I am thoroughly enjoying the vacation. Mel, Jordan and I (the nonskiers) took Jacob and Kegan and went to town. Instead of fearing that mountain road, I loved it--even looked out over the town way below us. The roads were freshly plowed, after 5 inches of new snow, and we had chains. Jordan drove slowly and carefully and wasn't nervous at all. We had promised the boys a visit to the Children's Museum but it didn't happen. One big grocery trip and we were ready for lunch. I walked without problem on the snow in my new Wal-Mart boots ($7)--ok, I held on to Mel a bit. Mostly the boys enjoyed the outing--I got to push the basket with the two of the in it. After lunch, home to unpack groceries, read a book and nap. Tonight Brandon is making his famous chili, we have a Christmas tree up and decorated, music playing, and it all feels festive.

And I'm really happy to be here. Large families are fun, but the dynamics are interesting. Yes, we all get along perfectly, but there are undercurrents and figuring them out is intersting. I find I use people from my family in my novels--and this trip has been an education. I tried to take a picture of all the skiers, big and little, in the hot tub, but it didn't work through the window and I didn't want to go outside to get it.

Merry Christmas to everyone, and God bless!

Thoughts on rewriting

As regular readers of this blog know, I've been putting off going back to my second mystery for some times now--yeah, even months. The manuscript sat there like an accusing stack of papers, saying "Look at me." But I am a master at putting things between me and something I dread doing. Saturday I decided instead of reading someone else's mystery, my time--and I had a lot of it that day--was better spent reading my own novel. So I dug in. And you know what? It wasn't half as bad as I thought it would be. I think the thing that kept me from it was a deep, hidden conviction that it was beyond rescue, so bad, with so many holes in the plot that you could drive a truck through, that I really should throw it away.
Well, that wasn't true. Yes, I saw holes in the plot, places where people's motivation didn't hold up, places where coincidence played too big a part. But it wasn't beyond hope. I made editorial notes like crazy all weekend and am ready to dig in and edit--except that this is a busy week, filled with all kinds of other things from health appointments to lunch to staff meetings, plus cooking for my Christmas party.
But what I decided is that the first time through on a novel, you just write, whatever comes into your head, and a lot of it doesn't make sense. But when you go back, it makes more sense than you thought, and an adjustment here and there, a beefing up of this person's motive and that person's story, makes it much better. Even after I make all these editorial changes, I'm not done, and I know it. But I've taken a gigantic step, and I'm really happy about it. And I think the novel iis good.
When I write articles, I always know that the first draft sounds like an idiot wrote it, but I can fix it. Why didn't I believe that about novels?
So cold and wet in Texas today. I rushed off to a doctor's appt. this morning, then at lunchtime my friend Carol came with cat carrier to help me take Wywy to the vet for a checkup (expensive!), and we met a friend of hers at the Tokyo Cafe for lunch--great sashimi and great company. Home for a nap, shower, bike ride (indoor of course) and to pick up one indignant cat. Then dinner with Carol and Kathie--our early Christmas dinner and gift exchange. Lots of fun. Kathie is rushing off to Georgia Friday to greet her first grandchild, due to be delivered tomorrow. She's as excited as can be, and I'm happy for her.
'Tis the season for great joy--even in sloppy, cold, wet, Texas weather.

Big Bend National Park

I spent much of my day--probably only 2.5 hours if you really count--in Big Bend National Park, courtesy of a manuscript I'm reading. It's written by a teacher of young children at the San Vicente School District, and she really transports you to the land and makes you feel the friendship and closeness of the people who live in that isolated setting. Melinda loves Big Bend, so I emailed her she'd be jealous, and she asked if I was hiking. I said a bit, plus some bird watching, and she advised having a glass of wine on the porch of the hotel in Terlingua after hiking. Sounds good to me.
In real life, e-mail, Twitter, and Facebook are taking an incredible amount of time, and I find it a dilemma. On the Agent Quest list I read that you must use these tools to promote your writing career. But, to me, they are left-brain, the opposite of creative, and they don't further creativity. In fact, they are among the things I put between me and writing or re-writing, which is what I should be doing now. The Big Bend manuscript falls into that category too, but at least I get paid for doing it. Plus I like it.
Had a nice lunch with Jeannie today and then we went shoe shopping--she came away with four (yes, four) pairs of black shoes, while I bought a pair of snow boots for our Christmas trip to Colorado--they're gray plaid and will match my long gray coat. I'm having doubts about my stability on snowy, icy streets in Breckenridge, but I guess I can hold on to my kids. Still seems a long time away to me, but it really isn't. Thanksgiving will be here before we know it, and this weekend I start cooking for my annual tree trim (no tree) party. Jordan says she's not coming if I don't do desserts.
Incredibly beautiful weather today, so I put the top down. After many many trips to VW service and a lot of money (which they eventually repaid), the top on my car still doesn't go all the way down. We went into lunch, and when we came back and I turned the motor on, I could put the top down--it has to sit like that. A royal pain! I'm taking it in again Monday.

Another good day

North Texas was like early fall today--up into the upper 70s, sunny and gorgeous. Tonight the temperature is to drop and tomorrow the forecast high is 39 with rain. If you don't like the weather, wait a minute and it will change. Mid-60s by Wednesday. Meantime I have gotten out warm fuzzies for tomorrow.
This morning I went to early church--8:45--something I maybe have done once or twice before. But today, my good friends Jean Walbridge and Jim Clark joined the church, and Jeannie and I were there as their cheering team. I haven't, as I've mentioned, been going to church, and it was good to be there--I always enjoy the ritual, the music, and today I enjoyed the sermon. The church at 8:30 is a far different place than it is at 10:45, and I was astounded--no traffic on the streets, empty places close up in the parking lot but no valet, no people in the halls on the way to the sanctuary--or at least very few. Still there was a fairly big crowd at the service. I didn't find it so hard to get up at 7 and be ready to leave at 8:30--still read the paper and had my breakfast. What I did find funny was that at 10 when I got home, I was hungry. Usually when I get home from church it's lunch time. So I said what the heck and ate the half leftover gorgonzola burger I had in the fridge while finishing the newspaper. Jean and Jim were warmly welcomed into the church, and I was really glad I had gone.
The sermon took its theme from "Jubilee," the Hebrew celebration every 50 years where fields lie fallow, land is returned to the original owners, and the enslaved are freed. Congregation Beth El, the local reformed Jewish temple, sent a representative with a shofar, the ram's horn symbolic of the ram that was sacrificed in place of Abraham's son. I thought it interesting that they sent a woman, for I think of Judaism still as a religion where men predominate. But this was a lovely attractive woman who wore a shawl I wanted to rip right off her and steal. She blew the shofar and reminded me I'd forgotten how shrill the sound is. When I was young my parents went to a church in a "changing" neighborhood, far from where my friends attended. But Dad had attended St. James since the 1920s, and he wasn't about to change. I went to the United Church of Hyde Park (Congregational and Presbyterian) and next door was a small orthodox Jewish temple. The grandmother of my good friend Eleanor Lee lived on the other side of the temple, so one way or another, I heard the shofar quite a bit. So hearing it this morning was a bit of nostalgia for me.
The rest of the day was spent mostly proofreading--and I finished the project this evening, though there are problems I have to work out tomorrow. I put a pot roast on about noon and added potatoes just before I napped about two; when I went to add carrots in the late afternoon, I feared I had let it cook too long. But Jordan, Christian, and I agreed it was delicious--I really would prefer just to do the potatoes and carrots and forget the meat. The cooking liquid is a can of mushroom soup, a pkg. of Lipton's beefy onion soup, and a half cup of red wine--makes delicious gravy.
Jacob had been sick last night, slept way too late and long this afternoon, and couldn't decide if he was happy (sometimes) or whiney (sometimes). I commented that the whiney doesn't happen much if at all when he's here with me alone. But we gave him his Christmas present from me--an Elmo sleeping bag. He was much excited by Elmo but didn't get the sleeping bag idea at all. Jordan says we'll take it to Houston and maybe Morgan will show him. Nonetheless he gave me a sweet kiss and hug and left with, "Thank you, Juju." He talks about "Do Claus" and cannot be persuaded to say Santa Claus.

Wild man evening

Jordan, Jacob, and Christian came for dinner tonight--Christian being a last-minute addition because he was suddenly not scheduled at the restaurant. I had thawed a bison rib-eye that I thought Jordan and I could share but decided it was just enough for Christian. So I defrosted a chopped sirloin patty for us to share. Because I was afraid of the bison being a bit dry, after I cooked the steak and the sirloin, I put a blue cheese/panko topping on them and broiled them. Then I covered them with a red wine sauce--with shallots, garlic, thyme, beef broth, and red wine, reduced. The whole combination was really good and with Jordan's great salad all we needed for supper. I'm going to have to start buying more meat though--Jacob ate a good portion of everybody's meat and kept saying, "More meat."
After dinner, he became a wild man, going from English to Jacobspeak, throwing himself on his mother, his father, screaming, absolutely out of control. At one point he got sent to time out because he had been told not to play with the mini-blinds and he did it again. He could be heard calling, "Juju! Juju!" We took no pity on him. And when he came back, he was undaunted. Maybe all that red meat energized him.
Otherwise it was a peaceful day. I did early morning runs to Barnes & Noble--finished my Christmas list!--and Central Market. Elizabeth came to talk about ways to get up if I fall--bottom line is I can't do it. I can get to one knee, but I can't push up from there without something to hold on to. So there's another routine to practice. Plus she suggested more practice on my balance poses--tree and dancer's pose, which I dutifully did today. Our goal: get so I can do balance poses and warrior stances without a chair to grab on to and so I can get up without aid. May take a while, but she seems confident it can happen, so I'll believe too.
I've wrapped most of the famly gifts, baked almost all the tree trimming party pastries, and am feeling pretty good about the world. It will all hit me the week after Thanksgiving.
I proofed more of my cookbook today but may take a break tonight and read the Susan Wittig Albert mystery I bought myself today.

Another miscellany

A quiet couple of days. Yesterday I didn't even wash my hair (which makes me look awful) or put on makeup. Jacob amused me until about 10:30--at one point he rolled out my yoga mat, and when I told him that was what I exercised on, he began to do these funny exercises, hands and feet on the floor and raising one foot at a time or doing what looked like a clearly abortive cartwheel. I missed Meet the Press because we were watching The Mermaid, but I later heard McCain called Texas a battleground state. I wish! 'Fraid it's not true. My neighborhood is peppered with McCain/Palin signs but all the Obama signs have disappeared--someone with too little respect and too much time on their hands. I heard it was teenage or young college girls.
Tonight I am particularly upset about the murder of Jennifer Hudson's family. I know if she were not a celebrity, we wouldn't have heard a word. But I saw statistics tonight that there are more murders per capita in Chicago than New York or I think it was Detroit. I grew up on the South Side of Chicago--and I mean inner city, 51st Street in the Kenwood neighborhod. I never spent a night alone in our house until I was well past grown--if my parents left town, I went two doors down to the neighbors who had become adopted aunt and uncle. I tell people I'm a scaredy-cat because of that upbringing. My mom and I used to sleep on the screened-in porch in the summer, but she had hung waist-high curtains to conceal my cot, and I was never allowed to talk if there was someone on the street.
I don't know where the Hudson home is, but I'm curious. I know domestic violence like that occurs all the time, in Fort Worth as well as Chicago and every other city, but the abduction and murder of the young nephew is particulrly upsetting. I simply can't imagine what the surviving family members are going through. And the worst is, it happens all the time. It just doesn't often make the national headlines. It makes me though a little uncertain about writing books about murders--seems just a bit callous.
I'm getting in the holiday mood. I always go through this "Will I or won't I?" phase about my annual no-tree tree trimming party but last night I decided I would--I've been in a bit of the doldrums and the energy of planning and cooking would be good for me. So I picked a date, emailed it to some family and close friends, and of course Jordan immediately wrote back to say "Wrong!" They'll be in Dallas celebrating their anniversary. Back to the drawing board. I like the idea of an open house on Saturday at 5 p.m. because folks that have more festive plans can go on and those that don't can linger here. I have a good start on Christmas shopping and I hope when everyone's here at Thanksgiving they'll help decorate.

Let the good times roll

What a pleasant evening I had tonight. Christian's b'day was in early August, and desperate for a gift, I promised him dinner at a new wine cafe that opened recently. Tonight was the first night we could all get our schedules together, so Jordan, Christian and I went to supper--I complained loudly that I wanted to take Jacob too, but they would have none of it We had a really good time. The wine list is extensive--and expensive--and the menu limited, but we each had a salad, they had pizza, and I had chocolate mousse--way too rich and way too delicious. We lingered over dinner and wine loosened our tonuges--well at least mine--so we had a good visit. Christian brought me home and brought in more junk--excuse me, exclusive items--for their garage sale this weekend (I am running away from home!).
Today was a good day anyway--I went to the library for a meeting with my boss. Parked in a handicapped spot about half a block from the loading dock (my easy entry to the library) and had no trouble walking there. The meeting went well, the morning at work went well, and an old and delightful friend and I had lunch at a Lebanese/Italian restaurant.
My good news is that yeesterday morning I sent a query to an agent about my first mystery and got back a request for a full manuscript so fast it made my head spin. I have changed the title from Dead Space to Skeleton in a Dead Space. Maybe that made a difference. Anyway, I'm almost afraid to be encouraged because the response was so quick, and yet this agency checks out well. So maybe I'll go with being excited about it. My mentor, Fred, said we must celebrate with lunch, but we couldn't find a mutual day until next week.
Last week, at dinner with Betty, I said I hadn't even started on Christmas, and she said with seven grandchildren, and eight children (including spouses) plus a lot of friends, I really needed to get going. I'm happy to report that I've had suggestions from two moms, and I'm deep into studying toy catalogs and have ideas probably for over half the grandchildren plus a few of the adults. Each year I warn that it's going to be slim, but it's always less slim than I mean it to be. Toys are such temptations. From now on my head is probably into Christmas.

Anxiety and Other Facts of Life

A quote I found that I really like: "Things may come to those who wait, but only things left by those who hustle."--A. Lincoln.
Anxiety, which I had pretty much conquered, came back to hit me full force yesterday and today. I started out each day feeling great, crashed about noon. I think it's because I'm on antibiotics--I had a skin cancer removed from my arm last week, and the incision looked red and angry, so the doctor prescribed a sulfa antibiotic. I intend to call first thing in the morning and ask if I can quit taking it. Today at lunch with two of my best friends--people with whom I should feel totally relaxed--I could hardly function, hardly walk or sign my name. I had to hold on to Jeannie, and when I did she said, "Your hand is shaking." An absolutely rotten feeling not to be able to control your body. I came home and did what the doctor dislikes--drank a glass of wine. Hey, it works! Tomorrow I'll call the office again and take an anti-anxiety pill. But the whole thing did put a damper on my lunch out--we went to a fancy new restaurant none of us had been to, and it was really good. Betty and Jeannie had shrimp and grits, and I, being allergic to shrimp, had a smoked trout Cobb salad. I enjoyed it, but the whole time I was thinking, "Can I walk out of this restaurant?"
Tonight I'm being extra good to myself. Fixed really good creamed tuna (okay, I know that doesn't appeal to a lot of people, but it was delish, as Megan would say) and will probably let myself read that Dick Francis novel instead of plowing ahead with passenger ships. And I may wrap a couple of Christmas gifts that I got today. I'm almost in danger of being smug about the good handle I have on Christmas.
All the bags and boxes that decorations were in have been piled in the hall, to go back up to the attic until time to repack things. Christian suggested that we put them in the garage apt.--easier than getting them up to the attic. Then Jordan suggested I could do that without them. So tonight, in sort of defiant anger, I put most but not all in the apartment. I'll do the rest night by night, have them gone before I have a business lunch here next Monday.