Twas the Day after Christmas

And just as the day should be--long and slow and lazy, a time for recharging. I did a tiny bit of work--polished a proposal and a book review and sent them off. I fiddled on Facebook and even thought for a change I'd go to Pinterest. I almost never do that because you get stuck on it forever--it's addictive. But today it was almost all photos of classic movie stars. Nice but I could scroll through pretty fast. So I dove into the new Coffeehouse Mystery by Cleo Coyle, Holiday Buzz. Spent an enjoyable evening reading. Just not ready to get back into the routine of the real world, though several projects beckon.
Going to read a bit more, go to sleep early. Sweet dreams, everyone. I hope you too recharged your batteries. Sorry for those who had to rush back to work early this morning. Once again, something that makes me realize how fortunate I am.
LIfe is good--grab it!

Those subtle blends of flavors

I'm reading A Brew to Kill, a Coffeehouse Mystery by Cleo Coyle and enjoying it much. But I am awed and baffled first by the art of the barista--who knew how much training, talent, and finesse it takes to pull coffee?--and second by the acuteness of heroine Claire Cosi's taste buds.In one sip of coffee, which she savors long and slow, she finds subtle blends of fruit, almond, chocolate, woodsy flavors, whatever--things I never think of when I drink coffee. It's just coffee to me, but I'm not an aficionado. Claire's ex-husband brings home a new bean from  South America, and the author is at pains to dissect the flavors.
Confession: I don't like Starbuck coffee; to me, it's bitter. I don't like strong coffee. I drink decaf, because caffeine hypes me up too much, something I am quite capable of doing on my own without outside help. I only drink one cup of coffee a day. Occasionally I prefer green tea, wish I'd drink it more often because it's so good for you.
Separating out coffee flavors is like letting fine wine roll around on your tongue. I'm afraid that art is missing in me. Another confession: I drink box wine a lot of the time. It's cheap, and some of it is not bad. When I arrive in Austin, my son-in-law always takes a picture of the box, posts it on Facebook, and writes, "Gaga's back in town." As those who know me are aware, I enjoy a glass of chardonnay, and I like it oakey. I don't get much more specific than that, so I'm mystified when people talk about fruity--okay, sometimes I think I get that but I'm never sure. Move on to specific fruits and I'm lost.
I can detect a thin, really cheap chardonnay or a sour one--but my oenophile daughter and her husband scoff at what I consider a nice bottle of wine. And I run from a Reisling or Muscatel--or anything sweet. These days pinot grigio seems to be the white wine of choice, but I stick to chardonnay and I was comforted to read on the internet that the appeal of chardonnay is its complexity. See, I'm not a simpleton.
Would someone run out and get me a bottle of  Kendall Jackson, please?

Chronicles of Jacob--and a new idea for guacamole

I'm thinking of writing a book titled Chronicles of Jacob. Tonight we had another adventure. He arrived quite somber and declared he did not want to go out for dinner. We watched "Who Let the Dogs Out" for the  umpteenth time, and I saw that there is a parody called "Who Let the Frogs Out?" So I told him we could watch it after we came home from dinner. WE went to the Star, a North Side steak/hamburger/chicken fried place owned by my friends Betty and Don. Betty had put parking cones out in front to save us a place, which was really wonderful--and there she stood on the street waitingfor us. Jacob was quite solemn at first, but he livened up. He wanted to know why the men were wearing hats--North Side is full of cowboys, and Don even came in wearing a Stetson. I think maybe Jacob needs one for his birthday.
Betty and I visited, and Jacob toyed with his chicken tenders--they were not like the bland frozen chicken nuggets he's used to, but he ate a lot of fries. Then he played with stuffed toys from the display counter and became a bundle of energy. On the way home he chattered all the time and demanded, "Juju, why aren't you talking to me?" He had so much energy that I called Jay to come have a drink on the porch--which translates to help me watch Jacob. It was hot but pleasant, and Jacob ran and played but always where we had him in sight. So much in sight that we were well aware when he pulled down his pants and peed in the monkey grass. Jay shrugged and said, "He's a boy." But then he called out, "You're supposed to go behind a tree!"
Now he's talking to his toys, though for a minute I thought he'd gone right asleep. Wishful thinking on my part! But a plus: we haven't had the TV on since he got here, and he hasn't asked for it.
Me? I'm tired--and before Jacob arrived, I really didn't do much. Mostly I read The Girl Who Played with Fire-I'm hooked, I must admit. It's pretty intense, though, and I may take a break before reading the third Stieg Larsson book, though I read an interview with him today (made shortly before his sudden death) in which he indicated the story all comes together in the third book.
Found a recipe today on the Web site "Mystery Lovers Kitchen" that suggested mixing an avocado, lime juice, and about 2 oz. of feta for guacamole to spread on a toasted pita, top with cherry tomatoes halved and whatever else you want. I'm big into using pita toasts for dip these days (much better than chips) so I think it sounds good just as a dip. May try it soon. Credit for the recipe goes to Cleo Coyle, author of the Coffeehouse Mysteries and one of my favorite authors.

Catching up

I spent a large part of this evening reading some blogs that I normally follow and have gotten way behind on--another symptom of my busy life. I used to read them every night. Some are by friends, some are by writers whose work I enjoy, one is about Chicago (my home town), and others interest me for various reasons. But I came to the conclusion tonight that those I most look forward to are the ones that give me a sense of the person who's writing, the life he or she leads. I'm not drawn to blogs that give me lectures about writing or even, much, to those interviews about "how did you write your first book?" I like the people side of it--like my friend who told her cat's life in a series of imaginative pictures and captions or my neighbor who wrote about efforts to increase sales of the Oxford English Dictionary--and make us all appreciate the beauties of the English language.
Today it's rainy and cold in Texas but I got out for lunch with Jean, then a staff meeting and some work at the office. Finally by 3:30 I slunk home, anxious for my nap--but I had brought chores with me and it was 5 p.m. before I got a nap. Hardly seems worth the trouble!
I am caught up in Christmas--spent last night wrapping packages and tonight have to work on a shopping list for my annual party.
Just finished reading Cleo Coyle's latest Coffeehouse Mystery, Holiday Grind. My reaction to it is similar to my reaction to blogs--I get a strong sense of Claire Cosi, the main character, as a likeable person--adventuresome, risk-taking, but a good mom and a nice friend to have. Coyle has endowed her with sophisticated knowledge about coffee (not a big deal to me, but still it's cooking--and she does cook other thing), and I'm well aware of the ongoing, prolonged tension between Claire, her ex-husband, and her new boyfriend. I always wonder about the pacing of relationships in mysteries--if you keep the lovers apart, are you creating tension? Or frustration about how dumb they are? In this case, I'm surprised they got as close as suddenly as they did, after several novels of distance. Maybe Coyle listened to what her characters were telling her and followed it. I recently read, for the third time, a novel in which I think the author got so wrapped up in reacting to the critiques we'd sent that she forgot to listen to her characters. I always will remember that was one of Elmer Kelton's primary pieces of advice to young writers. Having wandered away from the topic, I do recommend the Cleo Coyle Coffeehouse Mysteries to readers of cozies.

NY's Hotel Pierre, talking animals--and retirement

Today in the Cleo Coyle novel I'm reading I came across a description of the Hotel Pierre. I never knew it was so lavish and ritzy. My dad didn't go to NYC often, but when he did, he stayed at the Pierre. Dad was a Scotsman through and through, so I always thought it was a lesser hotel, even though he traveled on an expense account. Apparently not so. I wish he were here so I could ask him about it.
I've discovered a new dislike: novels with talking animals. I've ordered two recently and decided I couldn't read them. One wonderful thing about Kindle is that you can order the first chapter of a novel free; if you don't like it, just erase it. Want to buy it, which is of course what they hope. Go to one-click Kindle shopping. I ordered a sample of one but dumbly ordered and paid for the full text of the other because I'd read good reviews Reviews or not, I couldn't get into it. Never did read Watership Down. I've decided I must use that function of Kindle all the time. I'm notorious (to myself) for buying books I've already read. At Barnes & Noble, they were good about returning them, but there's no such option on Kindle. I thought I'd read all of Cleo Coyle's coffee house mysteries but Latte Trouble didn't sound familiar. I ordered the first chapter and found I hadn't read it, so I've had my nose in it much of the weekend.
Jacob slept till 8:30 this morning and then I had to wake him up singing "Where's Jacob, Where's Jacob?" He woke up with a big grin. I was afraid Jordan would be unhappy if he slept all morning. Tonight Jacob and his parents and I went to Uncle Julio's--Colin worked there forever (I was afraid he was going to be a bartender all his life) and Jordan worked there three years, so it's sort of a sentimental Mexican placer for us. Two glasses of wine and I had to come home and take a nap!
I guess I can make my big announcement now--well, it's big to me--I'm submitting my letter of retirement tomorrow, effective July 15. The powers-that-be have known this for a long time but asked me to hold off. It's been a hard decision to keep quiet because it effects so much of my thinking and planning. No, I don't know who will succeed me--there will be an interim director while they do a national search, but they haven't settled on an interim and the turmoil surrounding that has me in a constant state.
I sat the other night and made a list of my goals for retirement: the first is to conquer my anxiety by slowly widening the circle of things I will do alone. I've had to do that before, and I know it can be done, but it's tough. I don't think I'll have the peace of mind to do it until I'm out of the office. I can start practicing now, because I know I've really drawn that circle more tightly around me. My other goals have to do with seeing more of my other grandchildren--have to find a way to get to Houston and get over the anxiety enough to ride the train to Austin and Dallas. And to do more serious writing--as readers of this blog know, I keep putting off my current work in progress, blaming it partly on not having heard from the publisher who's had the first mystery for almost six months. But I can query them and their answer may give me a hint about which direction to go. I hope to continue my occasional column for the Dallas Morning News and turn my blog into more of a review blog. And maybe do some other free lancing.
After retirement, I will continue to do acquisitions for the press and participate in some event planning, so I won't lose touch comletely. It's a big wrench--I went to work there in the summer of 1982 and became director in 1987. The press is pretty much my baby (aside from my own babies and their children), and many people have said kind things about what I've built it into. Yes, I'm nervous abut leaving it in other hands. But my good friends Jeannie and Jean have convinced me that I have to look after myself first, not the press. And they're right. I've been anxious for months, and when they both said they were worried about me and that every time I talked about the office I tensed up, I decided it was time to listen. My boss keeps asking if I've changed my mind, which is a nice compliment. But been there, done that, and this time I'm not turning back.

Diets and other things

This is Jacob, hard at work in my study, one of his favorite places to be. He knows where "his" paper is (old copy only blank on one side--sometimes he draws on the printed side, makes no matter to him), though he often tries to take my good pens. He wants a Spiderman pen and I'll have to work on that.

As usual I went overboard in the produce department at Central Market, but when Linda from Granbury called to say her husband is in the hospital close to my house and could she drop by, I realized I'd bought all single servings--except one medium large baked potato to share with Jacob tonight (no butter, nonfat yogurt instead of sour cream). All those single servings for healthy, low-point meals. If Linda can leave Rodger, she'll bring her half sandwich left from lunch. I'll assure her that by tomorrow night I can cook her a much better meal if he's still there--and I think he will be.

A diet lunch today was so good I could do this all the time--tuna salad (ok, that counts some points), grape tomatoes (which I can eat like other people eat popcorn), hearts of palm (pricey but I've started splurging on them since I started the diet), and fresh raspberries--all zero points (if you don't eat too much!). I keep ruining by point total by drinking a little wine at lunch and a little more in the evening. Tonight though I had a fine meal and made it under my point limit for the day--a half a baked potato with nonfat yogurt (delicious) and plain cooked broccoli. Jacob was apparently too shy around Linda--didn't eat, except for one bit of broccoli. I'm going to give him his strawberries and blueberries for breakfast and send his half of the potato and broccoli home for his lunch. Other than that, he was charming. When he arrived we sat on the porch and looked for rolypolys again--well, he did. When I declined, he decided it was time to go in. Then of course he came alive about 8:30 tonight when 9:00 is bedtime. I can hear him on the monitor, playing with his toys.

I've had a good day, distracted by reading yet another mystery, Cleo Coyle's Latte Trouble. Not much to do with food but more than I need to know about espresso and likeable characters and a good plot. Work on my own writing? Nope, didn't do any!