The Berkeley neighborhood in Fort Worth

Today, I filled my garbage carts about noon, but when I went to take them down to the curb around two, they were already there. I waved at the school crossing guard and shouted my thanks, and he waved back. Tomorrow, even before I'm out of bed, he'll have one of the carts back up by the side of my house. I never asked him. He saw me with a cart one day and said, "Let me do this for you." I hope he does it out of the goodness of his heart and not because he thinks I'm a little old lady with a cane, but either way I'm grateful. And he's a nice, nice man.
And Jay came over tonight to show me where the cartridges are on the printer/scanner/fax he handed down to me. Then he went in to check the commode that runs if you use it and decided he needs to get a new something or other for it. And we spent a long time at the side fence discussing what to do with the barren spot between our houses, the way he and Greg were going to take out some junk trees and put in a drip system for whatever ends up planted there. (Not sure Greg knows about this!)
I live in a neighborhood where I feel well taken care of, and it's a good feeling. I also try to take care of my neighbors, though I'm better at feeding them than caretaking (they're all a lot younger!).
Our neighborhood newsletter came out today, complete with a full page feature on Cooking My Way through Life with Kids and Books, including the ubiquitous Doris casserole (I really must develop another signature dish!). But also in the newsletter was a note about the class that Elizabeth and I will be facilitating in May (okay, she's Beth to the rest of the world but she will always be Elizabeth to me). It's called Writing Your Life Story and springs out of the Story Circle Network (call it up on Google) and Susan Wittig Albert's  Writing From Life. I've taught noncredit classes from that book before at TCU but this time I'm going to teach at my home, with pot-luck food and wine. It's a class for non-writers who want to tell their life story--for themselves, for family and friends, for the world at large. I've already had one inquiry from a neighbor I've not yet met. If you're interested, email me at j.alter@tcu.edu.
Yes, Berkeley is a nice neighborhood to live in. Jordan said the other day, "I want to live in this neighborhood." Of course, she'd have to pay more for less space, and it's too soon for them to do that, but I do hope someday they will move close. We have an active neighborhood association, guardian patrol service, a strong voice in civic matters to protect our neighborhood--and lots of activities, mostly for families with young children. It's a great place.

Book review and a fabulous house

Today another author, Kay Nelson, and I shared the spotlight at the annual Christmas luncheon of a local book group. Ten of the most interesting ladies I've met in a long time. I went without a clue what I was going to say, but the hostess asked me a question that got me started, and we were off and running. Later I sold all twelve copies of  Cooking My Way Through Life with Kids and Books that I'd brought with me. Kay's book, Spilled Blood, is a novel about relations between American and Islamic peoples, made clear and specific through the meeting of two women. The book questions war and peace and tells a story of learning to accept others and develop an unlikely bond. She did a great job talking about why she wrote it and sparked a lively discussion of the U.S. role in Iraq and Afghanistan.
The food was delicious, although it's a bit immodest of me to say that--the recipes came from my cookbook. Doris' casserole, the Star Cafe house salad dressing, and Texas Delight for dessert. Another day when I don't want to talk a bout Weight Watchers points!
But the highlight of the entire lovely event was seeing the hostess' house. Located west of Fort Worth, in Aledo, it sits high on a hill, and the main living areas are on the floor above the entry level. The entire open great room and kitchen is surrounded by windows, so there is almost a 360 degree view. The kitchen sits in one corner--streamlined, stainless steel counters, efficient beyond belief--with a view to the north (or maybe east, but I think north). I could imagine Sue cooking there in the evening, looking over the houses below all decorated with Christmas lights. To the west (I think) were a few more houses--all set much lower--and then, beyond prairie dotted with scrub growth. It's a modern house, too modern for me probably, but I did covet that kitchen and the view. The sink faced the common room, though there was a view out the windows on the other side--I think I'd have had the sink by that great northern view.
We got a tour later--the ground floor level has his and her offices and a bedroom for a grandchild. Below that, I presume is the garage. But it was all tasteful, wonderful, and amazing. Seeing that house was the highlight of my day!
Tonight Jay and Susan came for cocktails--isn't it nice to have neighbors who bring their own beer?--and exchange of gifts. We laughed and visited and had a high old time, and they left with Christmas wishes. They drive to Taos Friday, and I leave for Breckenridge (CO) on Monday. Both of us use the same pet sitter, so he'll be going between the two houses, but we'll be well protected.
I made an easy, quick appetizer for tonight--the mixture my mom used to stuff into mushrooms: grate cheddar, chop scallions, add dry mustard and Worcestershire with a fairly free hand, and bind with mayonnaise. Tonight I put it on baguette slices and broiled them. So good, even if I do say so.

Cooking with what you have

Ever since I read Jam Today, about cooking with what you have, I've kept that thought in mind. So tonight, I pulled a delicious dinner out of my fridge. I've been enamored of the Pisces tuna Sue and I ordered, but it comes in 7-1/2 oz. cans, which makes too much for any one meal for me. One night I sauteed it in oil, added capers and anchovies and poured it over pasta; another night I added it to a tossed salad. But still almost half a can. So tonight I made tuna cakes, modeled pretty much on the way I've always made salmon croquettes but adding a bit of dill pickle relish (I'm not sure I even tasted it). But my leftover tuna made two good-sized cakes, so I enjoyed one thoroughly and saved the other for lunch tomorrow. I had a butternut squash that really should have been cooked before this,though it was fine. So I baked the halves with butter and sugar, scooped out the meat, mashed it all up with a bit more butter, and ate only a small portion. It's really low in Weight Watchers points and really high in fiber--so good for you. (Yes, I did count the butter and brown sugar). Then I had some good thin asparagus, so I roasted a few stalks of that. Voila! A meal fit for royalty. Tomorrow I must steam the rest of the asparagus every so slightly to keep it from spoiling.
Butternut squash reminds me to ask if everyone knows the trick for dealing with these hard-shelled critters. Slice around the middle--you won't get a deep cut at all, but at least break the skin. Then microwave for about three minutes. It will cut in half like a dream, and you can scoop the seeds out and get ready to bake. Also be sure to trim a bit off each base to give it something to sit evenly on in the pan.
As if that weren't enough, I made a cheese ball for my annual Christmas party and put it in the freezer. I am beginning to feel almost guilty referring people to Cooking My Way Through Life with Kids and Books (well, not too guilty),but the recipe is in there in the first chapter. It's a mix of Velveeta (those who scorn it are missing a great cooking cheese), cream cheese and blue cheese, with pecans, parsley, onions, Worcestershire and horseradish (I put a bit more of the latter in than the recipe called for, but it tasted great). Truth is, I have tasted a bit of this and a bit of that all day long, so I probably should add 2 unspecified points to my daily count--but I used them on chocolate. Even tried some salami at the deli counter at Central Market this morning.
Now I have a sink of dishes waiting for me, but I decided it was time to sit down and rest my back. Lots of reading to do tonight. Don't think I'll make my goal of two more queries and doubt I will either Saturday or Sunday. Both promise to be full days (by the time I get my nap in!) But full days in a good way.
A friend emailed from Nebraska wanting reading suggetions, so I began with the Deborah Crombie novels, also suggested Julia Spencer-Fleming, and I have a whole long list of books by members of Sisters in Crime to send her.
The good news of the day is that I have my car back! They guarantee me it will work. I picked it up around 5:30, when it was dusk and a little chilly for top down. I'll try it Monday--probably won't drive anway until then. Sue is driving us to Weatherford in the morning.

The contradictory dilemma of creativity

I've been thinking a lot about creativity, especially when I do my morning three pages of free writing (I do this as many mornings as I can, though I don't come anywhere near the seven days a week recommended in The Artist's Way. This writing is supposed to enhance your creativity, but how do you measure that? And if you measure it, aren't you applying the rules and forms that are the opposite of creativity? Similarly, retirement is supposed to be freeing my creativity to write the great American novel--or at least the great American mystery. But if I do as everyone says you should in retirement, move at my own pace, it takes me most of the morning to do my free writing, exercise, shower, answer emails, read the paper--I get precious little writing down. I admit that didn't worry me much as long as I was waiting for an answer, but now that I've had a rejection, I feel I need to move ahead (I did send out two queries today). Writing requires self-discipline (argh, so does dieting!). But aren't self-discipline and creativity polar opposites. I don't want to be one of those artists who creates larger-than-life canvases at three in the morning, but I would like to strike a happy balance.
I know that now, more than ever, I'm good at putting things between me and writing--manuscripts to read for TCU Press or other sources, social events, etc. This morning, while free writing, I had an epiphany of sorts (I used to have a friend who had an epiphany every day and the rest of us giggled about it). The things I put between me and writing bring me tangible results--sometimes money, often the company of good friends. So today I also finished a novel I'm reading for TCU and arranged a potluck get-together for ten or 12 neighbors for Sunday night.
I'll cook the entree, which is a funny story in itself. I'm doing a radio interview Saturday on a local station in a small town not far from here, and when the host got the review copy of Cooking My Way Through Life, she emailed that she was going to make gorilla casserole that night. I think it's really called meat and pasta casserole or something, but the last line of the recipe was "You could feed ten gorillas with it," so the kids and I always called it gorilla casserole. Next day, the radio host reported that it was yummy but even when she halved it, she had a lot left over. So that's what I'll make Sunday night--haven't made it in years.
And here I am back to food again. Last night I opened one of my special cans of Pisces tuna, fresh caught on the Oregon seacoast (no dolphins endangered), canned immediately, and only cooked once. I sauteed it in some olive oil with onions, a couple of anchovy filets, and some capers, and added it to a small amount of pasta. Really good, but I used less than half the can, so tonight I made a tossed salad with tuna (still have about 1/3 can left), leftover green beans that Jacob didn't want, some green peas from the bag I keep in the freezer, grape tomatoes halved, and a bit of lettuce--actually would have been better without the lettuce. Got to get over thinking lettuce is essential to a salad! I dressed this with a vinaigrette that had--you guessed it--some of that open can of anchovies in it.

E-lists, mysteries, and foood, of course

I spent much of today improving my e-communication position. I've been reading on Sisters in Crime and the Guppie list how important Twitter is. I'd signed up some time ago but never did anything with it, because I simply didn't know what to do. The buzz on the Guppie list today was all about Twitter, so I signed up to follow some Guppies, and then, through the listserv, a bunch of them signed up to follow me. But when I checked my site, I found lots of postings from people I didn't know--only recognized one or two names. So it's a lot of stuff to wade through, time-consuming, and I don't know what for. But I did find some lists I want to follow, like agents and food and Guppies. I feel like I've just dipped my toe in the water, and I'm in awe of those who are proficient at it. Also I'm sort of hesitant to fill in that box that asks "What are you doing right now?" What am I doing that I want to share with the world? On a more practical note, I retrieved my user name and password for the Sisters in Crime Web page, which is full of helpful information. Browsed on it, so I'll know where to go for specific things. Finally, my brother sent me a link to a petition I want to sign--long story, but there is a move afoot to add an M.D. degree program to the Texas College of Osteopathic Medicine and like many loyal to the DO profession, I don't want to see that happen. John called with phone directions, but still all I got when I clicked on the link was the sales site for Go Daddy. So I finally emailed the state osteopathic organization and asked them to fax me the form. Whew! I'm about through with technology for the day.
I've been chewing on that bit of advice, found on Agent Quest, that your blog must reflect your focus on writing mysteries. No trivia about my hamster died, or my grandchild said this, because agents will decide you're not serious. Well, I do report on my grandchildren and my cooking, and if I had a hamster and it died, I'd blog about that. I don't know that I want an agent who expects my life to be so narrowly focused, and I'm not sure but what having such a rich and varied life doesn't help my mysteries. But I read the posts on Agent Quest and realize that most of those ladies--and a few gentlemen--spend a lot more time on their mysteries than I do. Yet I do feel I am a serious professional. So what's the answer? First of all, I don't think I could come up with serious, weighty comments about writing every day; second, I'm not about to give up grandchildren and food.
So here goes: I fixed Norwegian hamburgers tonight. Jordan was home sick all day but since she was fever-free she brought Jacob and Christian came straight from his office. Norwegian hamburgers are a recipe from Torhild Griesbach, Colin's mother-in-law who was raised in Norway. We all adore Torhild and her "meat patties" (I think that's what she calls them--Colin gave them the Norwegian hamburger name). The recipe is in Cooking My Way through Life, but basically it's lean hamburger, eggs, corn starch, pepper and enough milk to bind. You saute onions, then brown the patties in the same pan (having removed the onions). Here's the part that amazes me: you make 4-5 packets of instant beef gravy and then add the patties to simmer, along with the onions and 2 boullion cubes. You cannot tell me that 40-50 years ago in Norway they had instant gravy mix packets! Still it is delicious, and I could eat a whole pan by myself. As I was washing dishes and licking extra gravy off the spoon, it occurred to me those gravy packets probably have a whole lot of salt in them--and tomorrow is weigh day.

24-hour getaway

I'm just home from 24 hours in Granbury (TX, of course) with my good friends Rodger and Linda Preston. Linda and I go back years and years, and she's been married to Rodger about 11 years. I love him too because he's a great cook, a steadfast liberal, and an all-around good guy. Linda came to get me Friday about 3 p.m. and we chattered all the way to Granbury. They gave a dinner party that night--a former bookseller of whom I'm particulary fond, one of our TCU Press authors and his wife, and the mayor and his wife. Turns out the mayor's wife went to high school in Scotland, so we had lots of fun talking about all things Scottish. Rodger fixed bouef bourguignion according to Julia's Child's recipe--Linda kept saying it was too complicated and she liked recipes with four ingredients, but today she and my brother agreed I would have done the same thing. I like those challenges. It was delicious, meat marinated for two or three days, lots of mushrooms. I avoided the noodles and the dessert and came in under points for the day.
Rodger and Linda own a gift store, Almost Heaven, on the square in Granbury (watch for their blog soon), and this was Harvest Moon Festival, which attracts a lot of vendors and a lot of people. Linda and I walked to the store about ten, and I holed up in the office, checking emails, working on a column, doing my free writing. We went to The Merry Heart, a lunch place two doors down, for chicken salad, another good visit, and then back to the store, where I signed books from 1-3. Well, I would have signed books but people weren't buying. I sold three, and two of those were to a woman I knew and her daughter, good friends of Linda's. Still, I talked to a lot of people, and maybe they'll remember my books. I have developed my "draw them in line" for Cooking My Way Through Life with Kids and Books--I point to the picture of Jacob and say, "That's my grandson. Isn't he adorable?" When they say yes, I launch into the story of what the parents of my other grandchildren thought. It worked well as a conversation starter, but not so well as a sales pitch. The people who come into Linda's store are looking for scented candles, odd gifts, etc. The lady who was demonstrating a salt scrub did a lot better than I did.
Highlight: My brother and his wife, John and Cindy, came by to visit, with Cindy holding their two-year-old granddaughter, Emery, who would not be detached from her grandmother. She clung and looked long at all of us. When they got ready to leave, she began to wave bye-bye--I think it was out of relief that they were leaving, for she'd been saying, "Go, Go." John said the crowd scared her. After they left, Linda brought me back to Fort Worth and we shared a glass of wine and a bit of cheese and stale crackers (I threw them in the trash after she politely said they were a bit stale but not too bad!). We had yet another good visit. She makes me think of that old saying, which I'll surely get wrong, but "New friends are silver, but old friends are gold." When Jamie married, he ordered silver steins with that on it for his groomsmen.
I'm nursing a cold that has been lingering on my horizons all week. Tonight it has turned into frequent sneezes and a constant need to blow my nose so that I look like Rudolph the Reindeer. Although I didn't feel on top of my game last night, I felt good all day and am fine now home and settled at my desk. It's taken me so long to catch up, I hope to have time for reading tonight.
After I unpacked, fed the animals, and got everything back to normal, I had a big debate with myself: did I want to saute that ground sirloin patty in the fridge or fix an anchovy pasta. The pasta won, and I cooked a handful of ditali (small short tubes of macaroni). While it was cooking, I heated olive oil and dumped in three chopped anchovy fillets, a generous helping of capers, and a small (single serving) can of tuna. When it was done I put some fresh grated parmesan over it. No salad, nothing else, though I felt a bit guilty about not having greens. But it was a delicious supper with a glass of wine.
Moral for the day: writing leads you into all kinds of fun situations. When Rodger asked why they were doing something--maybe having fresh raspberries for breakfast?--Linda said, "Because we have an artist in our midst." Who, me?

weather, food traditions, new tax rule

Okay, I admit to being a wimp. It's only October 9, in Texas, and I turned on the heat. Yesterday the air conditioner, which had been silent for a couple of weeks, kicked on, but today it was cool--never got above the mid-60s--and so damp that it chilled your bones. I closed the vents over my greenhouse windows--that's always a big deal, because I have to stand on a stool to do it, so I only open them when I think I can leave them open for days at a time. But this afternoon I was cooking and felt the cool, damp breeze come in. Tonight, when the furnace kicked in, Jacob said, "It's a monster!"

You know how the furnace smells when you first turn it on for the year? Well that smell fooled me today, and I burned some spinach. Now I ask you, who burns spinach? That's not easy to do, but I did it. Smelled something a little funny but thought it was the furnace--until I walked back into the kitchen! Me oh my! I found myself doing something I swore I'd never do tonight--cooking separate meals for a child and myself, but I wanted scrambled eggs. Jacob's mom said he wouldn't eat them, so I thought I'd make him a pbj sandwich. He wanted chicken nuggests--those yucky frozen ones. Doused with lots of ketchup, he ate them happily and then settled down to eating straight ketchup. I put a tiny spoon of crustless apple pie on his plate, but he scorned it. For myself I threw tomato, a bit of gravlax lingering the fridge, a couple of huge mushrooms sliced, and a scallion into my eggs--very good but with struggling to cook two meals, I let my eggs get a bit overcooked for my taste. And next time I'll saute the mushrooms first.

I was reading a piece tonight about family food traditions--actually it was about a family who had spent time in northern Thailand and brought back a dish that became a family tradition, served with great ceremony. It had nothing to do with the Eastern European Jewish roots of either of the parents, but the entire family looked on it as their dish. I tried to think about dishes passed down in my family from generations before--my mother's roquefort cheese ball comes to mind, because all my kids love it and one daughter-in-law makes it annually. But none of my kids will eat Mom's coffee cakes and that tradition has died--I don't make them anymore because they're a lot of work for no audience. In my immediate family Doris' casserole would come closest to being a family dish--we all adore it, except Megan who hates it. When Colin requested it for his 40th b'day, Megan contented herself with Colin's Queso and didn't eat the casserole. So it would seem we're a family without food traditions, and yet when I started my cookbook (Cooking My Way Through Life with Kids and Books--got to get that plug in there), the kids each contributed with, "Remember when you used to do . . . ." Another recipe that comes to mind is green noodles--it's in the cookbook, along with the cheeseball and Mom's coffee cakes. And then there's Jewish food, introduced to us by the children's father--some of us love it and some don't like at all. Maybe with four kids, it's hard to have taste buds agree on a tradition.

There's a new tax rule that has literati buzzing and, frankly, puzzled. It seems you have to declare the value of books you receive in order to write book reviews. Now that's plain darn silly. For scholarly publications, the book is your payment--you get nothing more--so now, you have to pay for the privilege of writing a review? Might wash with young scholars looking for credit, but they sure don't need to add to their tax bill, even that tiny amount. For newspapers, etc., you get a small fee plus the book. But now you're supposed to declare the market value of the book as income--even though you may end up disliking the book and writing a negative review! I don't know how they're going to track it, though one source I read said you have to declare in the review that you received a "gift" of the book or else the editor of the publication has to declare that in a sidebar or something. Seems to me the government will spend more money and time trying to track such things than they'll reap from the paltry taxes paid on books valued at $24.95. Just another thing to worry about.

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.