Being a grandmother on a birthday

This is Jacob, first thing this morning, using a flashlight to try to peek at his birthday present. Of course, I told him he could open it.

Jacob with his mom, after he opened his Minecraft figure. Who knew what Minecraft is? He showed me on Amazon, but it turns out I didn't quite order the right one. Still, he was pleased, and I promised to get the other one next year (by which time he will have moved on from Minecraft completely).
Jacob goes to day camp this summer, but he elected to spend the day with me --be still, my heart. What a great compliment from a seven-year-old. We went to his swimming lesson--impressive crawl, backstroke needs a little work, but he's pretty much pool safe. Then we went to the Dollar Store to get donations for him to take to Vacation Bible School next week--toothbrushes, crayons, rulers, glue sticks, things like that. While we were in there, my friend Jeannie came in--she was meeting friends at a nearby restaurant and was early, saw my car, and figured out where we were. We all trooped to Subway (Jacob's choice) where Jeannie guided me through the routine--I haven't been to Subway in years. My offer of frozen custard was declined, so we came home where he watched TV and I got some work done.
At three o'clock two other little boys arrived to go to Jacob's birthday party, and they were all wildly excited. Thanks to Don Lee for sitting on the porch with me while they whooped and hollered. Then Jacob's mom came to take them to Pump It Up and I, mercifully excused from that part of the excitement, took a nap. I met them, with Christian's family, at a restaurant called BJ's, new to me. Not good, not bad, but I couldn't hear. When everyone else went back to Jacob's house, I scooted home to work. But I got a sweet thank you from my birthday boy, and it was a lovely day that I enjoyed. I hope he did too.

The Art of Piddling

Have you perfected it? The art of being content doing absolutely nothing. I haven't though I'm getting better. When I used to be a study in constant motion, I had a friend who could happily watch paint dry. It drove me crazy. I put off retirement for six or seven years because I was terrified of waking up in the morning and wondering what I'd do all day.
Well, it turned out I retired to a whole new career as a fiction novelist, and much of the time that keeps me frantically busy. But I've noticed lately that I piddle more. I'm not so compulsive about doing something constructive every minute.
This morning was a perfect example. I was up at seven, but I knew I had all day to stay home and work (except for the time I worked with Jacob on his homework), so I dawdled, even though lmy goal was to write 2,500 words today. First it was emails--38 of them first thing in the morning, plus junk e-mail, which I clean out every morning. Then Facebook, which was equally busy--everyone commenting on last night's debate and,  yes,  I got my two cents in. Then some of the emails involved business that I needed to tend to, respond to and the like. And then there was the newspaper to read, although that doesn't take long thes days because the newspaper has shrunk to a shadow of  its former self--a fact that I much regret. The breakfast dishes and making the bed takes five minutes tops. Still no worry. I had plenty of time to write.
But I had to do my yoga--there goes thirty minutes. I try not to rush through my routine because I think that defeats the purpose, but I was beginning to worry about those 2,500 words, beginning to feel my compulsive behavior creep back in.
At ten o'clock I let the dog in and settled down to write. By lunchtime or shortly thereafter I was only 350 words shy of my goal--easy peasy. So this afternoon I piddled again--Jacob and I worked a jigsaw puzzle. Tonight I'll do those 350 words, then check some recipe magazines and read the novel I started.
Goal setting really is counter-productive to piddling, and I feel sort of torn between the two. But it will be nice to piddle a bit tonight. One thing I can't do: watch TV without doing something else. It makes me antsy. I guess my compulsive side is still winning. I wonder if age helps....

The fun of book signings

This has been a weekend of book signings, and it carried over into Monday night. It began with the Mystery Month Event at Barnes & Noble Friday night and carried over into two signings at the Old Neighborhood Grill--a real neighborhood hangout with good food. Saturday morning Jordan and I were there at seven, and several friends were equally prompt, meeting for breakfast and to get signed books. I sold 24 books, which I think is a really respectable number, especially that early in the morning, and beyond that I had a good time visiting with friends. Most people who came to buy a book stayed to eat breakfast.
Not so tonight for another signing, back at the Grill. People who came to buy the book lingered and visited over a glass of wine, which was fun and pleasant. Tonight was not as busy as the Monday night signing for the first book, but I wonder if that isn't usual with the second in a series. People will read it but don't feel as obliged to be in on the "big" event. Several people have said to me that they're liking the second book even better than the first. And tonight I got some "walk up" traffic--people who came to the Grill for supper and stopped to chat. Several bought books, and one went away with a bookmark, saying she'd get it later--maybe she will and maybe she won't. One friend I hadn't seen in a long time said she's heard a lot about this book and wanted her book group to read it--great news!

Both signings were family affairs. Jordan has appointed herself my goodwill ambassador, cashier, and, most recently, publicist, though she did ask "As your publicist, what would I do?" Hmmm. Stumped us both. Jacob was a willing salesman and, if nothing else, charmed people. He tallied a long list of figures that, far as I could tell, had nothing to do with anything and announced I could give him either $1, $100 or $1,000--which would I choose? Hmm, life's hard decisions.
Christian arrived, and we stayed for supper. Even sold a book unexpectedly as we were about to leave.
The third book is written, and I have about 2500 words on the fourth--though it went in a totally unexpected direction this morning. Now what do I do with that, other than bask in the glow of these good signings?

The day wasn't over

It's not yet noon and I've already had enough excitement for a week. To begin with, when I thought my long day was over yesterday, it wasn't . I finally tore myself from the computer--you know that just one more thing feeling?--and went to tell Jacob he absolutely had to turn off the TV, use the bathroom, and brush his teeth. He was sound asleep, TV blaring. I wrestled his pajama bottoms off to put a pull-up on since heaven only knows when he last used the potty. (This morning he looked down and said, "How did I get this on?") Then I pulled him from the foot of the bed to the head so he could stretch out--50 lbs. of uncooperating dead weight--laid him on his back and told him to close his eyes, put eye drops in, said to open the eyes. "No, three!" he shouted. "Three what?" "Count to three!" "Okay, count to three." At this he scrunched up his face in a cry and said, "No, not me. You count!" When I told him to close his eyes again, he was out, and I left the room feeling like a bad grandmother.

But the night still wasn't over. About one o'clock, he crawled wordlessly into my bed. I really debated whether it was more trouble to endure the kicks, punches, and body slams or to try to maneuver this sound sleeper back to his own bed. I settled for endurance though at times I felt like a battered woman. His favorite place is the middle of the bed, thank you very much. This morning when I asked how he got to my bed, he gave me a look like I am fairly dense and said, "I walked." I asked why, thinking he'd had a bad dream, and he said, "My bed was wet." Swell!
One benefit: sometime during my off-and-on sleep and dreams, the idea for a short story came to me. Project for the day is to rough it out. I've promised to supply a short mystery story for an anthology this spring, and it's been worrying me because I don't write short stories easily unless an idea slams me over the head.
We had one more piece of excitement this morning: Sophie, the nine month puppy, escaped out the door. Before you could blink she was across the street and in the schoolyard. I was so desperate I told Jacob to look both ways very carefully and then follow her. Ran back foir a leash, treats for bribery, and went out the front door calling for my neighbor. The neighbor on the other side said, "She's got her," and there came the neighbor from two doors down carrying Sophie, with Jacob trailing behind them. Said Sophie is so friendly she ran right up to her  with delight! My heart is still pounding.
Jacob has gone to spend the weekend with a friend, the supper is cooked, and I'm looking forward to a visit with good friends. I need peace and quiet.

Kindergarten homework

Jacob and I have had a rough two days, mostly clashing over homework. He uses any excuse to put it off and I end up feeling like a bully for ordering him to do it after his snack. Today I decided I would try extra hard to make it a more pleasant day than yesterday, so even before we left the school I said I thought a cold rainy day called for hot cocoa. He agreed and ended up dumping semi-sweet minimorsels into it. Then he had a Twinkie (long story why I bought them and won't again) and went off to visit the dogs, who were in their beds because of the rain. I distinctly told him not to let the puppy out of her crate. Next  thing I knew Sophie came bounding into my office. His explanation? He wanted to try his sunglasses on her. That did NOT get us off to a good start.
But we turned to the homework.  Jacob's approach is to guess. One problem had five chickens. If you take two away how many are left? He looked at me brightly and suggested "Five?" Now this is not a slow child--he figures things out way beyond his years when he wants to. He just plain doesn't want to do his homework. We struggled through that math work, counting on fingers and counting animals on the page. Once he gets the hang of it, he whips through it in no time and generally is pretty proud of himself. That didn't happen today--I almost felt he was playing with me, and my string grew shorter and shorter.
Next we moved on to the new batch of reading words he'd brought home. The guessing was much worse. He'd look at "this" and I'd sound out "th" and "iss" and he'd say happily, "Green!" Then he wanted to love the dog; next he was distracted by the pictures on my computer screen. I got read of all distractions. We finally muddled through, and as he finally got each word I made him study it. Told his mom they should go over the words with him again tonight. Bet he doesn't remember them.
We parted friends. I got three kisses, a huge hug, and an agreement that tomorrow will be better. But Mom was quite strict about listening to Juju's dog instructions or losing his dog privileges.
I hate the way this whole business makes me feel, like it's ruining all the fun we usually have together. And I hate it when he says, "You're so mean. All  you care about is homework." I tell him "No, all I care about is you."
I honestly don't think my kids had homework in kindergarten, and I'm too old for this!
Rant over.

A food day

Seems like the major thing I did today was eat. Betty, Jordan, Jacob and I went to the Frank Kent Honda dealership for lunch--lunch in a car dealership? Yep. It was great. Good friend David Rottman, who once owned and ran Cafe Aspen, has gone to work there, and they asked him to spiff up their on-site cafe. He's brought back a lot of his classic Cafe Aspen items--the chicken salad, those delicious hamburgers, coriander chicken salad, turkey club, fish of the day, soup of the day--all wonderful stuff in a much more casual atmosphere--you order at the counter and eat at shiny new chrome tables with banquette backs snaking through the space. And you don't have to buy a car. My sense is that it's a serivce to customers while they wait for repairs and to employees but anyone can wander in and have lunch--and an early supper. I think they close at six. We visited with David only briefly, but it was really a reunion. Great experience.
By serendippity, a friend from church was there waiting for her car and she joined us, so it was a lively and interesting lunch time--two hours, thanks very much.
Tonight was neighbors night at the Old Neighborhood Grill, and I had an unexpected date--Jacob. He was the star of the party--kept everyone entertained. He'd start a story with "Hey, guys!" and I frequently had to remind him not to interrupt when others were talking. Aftr all, they did want a bit of adult conversation. But they all seemed charmed with him and his stories. He had corn fritters and alternated between ketchup and syrup on them.
Both our lunch and dinner companions said Jacob really ought to be having a career as a child actor or model--which his dad did. They were struck with his outgoing personality and charming happy face. At one point at lunch he was behind me, and I said, "Jacob Burton, you come give me a hug." I'd turn one way and he'd dart the other; we kept it up for a while, and Genie, who had joined us, said "I'm sure my day is going to be lot better just from seeing his face behind you."
Mr. Charming just tried to convince me he had two broken legs and couldn't get up to go potty and brush his teeth. I told him to crawl, which he did a bit until he bounced to his feet and said, "Fooled you!" He's right now watching the Food Network and appears to be quite engaged in it. Maybe he caught on that this was a food day too.
Glad to report that although I've not found any of my lost items, they've given me a new idea for another Kelly O'Connell novel. And my electronic problems--email on laptop and phone, plus sending pictures on the phone--all seem to be solved. Things are moving in the right direction.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Random acts of kindness vs. instinct

Today when I was running errands in the neighborhood, I drove by a woman standing on the side of the street. She had a cane although she was not elderly, and I assumed she was waiting for me to pass before crossing in the middle of a block. It was a gorgeous day--what happened to that rain we were promised?--and I had the top down. She lifted her hand, and I waved back. Only as I passed did I hear her say something like, "Excuse me?" or "Please." I did not stop, and then my conscience beat me up. Yet there was something just enough off that I didn't want to stop. I knew if she asked for a ride, I didn't want to let her in my car.
We're told constantly to listen to our instincts, and I believe it--but that warning conflicts with the idea of random acts of kindess. And I'd been the recipient of random acts of kindness the day before.So how do we know what to do?
A few minutes laters, as I drove by a TCU parking lot, a student shot out into the middle of the street before he looked either way--I stopped and waved him on, which he never acknowledged with a smile or a wave. My stopping was definitely instinct and not an act of kindness, but there was no sense honking angrily and bullying my way through even though I was in the right. There's the middle ground, I guess.
I once read a book, or started it, on the important or value of fear. Many mystery writers tout this book as a great source. I read a bit and gave it up, but the basic point was that fear is a great self-preservation instinct. If it feels wrong, it probably is wrong. (Oh, how I long to turn that into a comment on politics, but I'll refrain.) I think it's a valid point, but then again we don't want to live our lives in fear nor, heaven forbid, pass that on to our children and grandchildren. I do have a lot of fears like heights and deep water and so on, although not as many as my grandmother, but still I've worked hard at not foisting them off on my children.And the result is that they're a fairly fearless bunch. But I think they too feel the instinct of self-preservation.
Countering that is what we hear in church or elsewhere about being our brother's keeper, looking after our neighbor, thinking of others. That's the kind of person I want to be.
So what wouldy you have done? Would you have backed up to see what the lady with the cane wanted? Would you, as I have, spend much of the day worrying about her? Or would you dismiss it and decide your instincts were right.
Fortunately my day took a much more positive turn with the arrival of Jacob. We went out to dinner with "Aunt Betty" and had a good time. A friend at the next table talked with Jacob and then said to me, "I guess we have no issues with sociability." I laughed and agreed. And Jacob said to me, "This has been a fun day." Makes the whole day worthwhile.

Waking up joyful

I have vivid dreams, sometimes getting into bizarre, impossible situations with aa wild variety of peole past and present and sometimes writing a novel in my dreams but of course the next morning I don't remember those details and twists of plot. It interests me that in the midst of a dream, bits of reality intrude and I can say to myself, "No, that's not true." I often find myself cleaning--a messy kitchen, a dirty house, whatever, rarely my own home. I'll have to look into the significance of that, but it generally takes me a bit to transition from my world of sleep and whatever dream world I was in to the real world. A friend calls it "getting my happy on" and says she gets it by the time she has her first cup of coffee. Today, though, I felt like I ought to burst into that song from Oklahoma! "Oh, what a beautiful day!" I felt self-confident, strong, skinny (well that may have been delusional), and like all was right with my world. Wish I could bottle that feeling! Not sure where it came from but probably a variety of things.
I corresponded last night with a MacBain descendant in Alberta that I'd never heard of--I wrote him because a family tree he put on Ancestry.com has been most helpful, and he answered immediately. At one point, he said he thought the MacBains, at least his branch, were in Glengarry by the Uprising. I thought he meant Scotland and wondered if I should abandon Inverness, change the itinerary and go to Glengarry, which is near Glasgow and doesn't sound nearly as interesting. Then he wrote back and said he meant Glengarry, Ontario, not to give up on Inverness. We are both apparently stymied by the same man, father of both our great-great-grandfathers (they were brothers!). What fun to find this hidden trail to follow.
This morning I went to Central Market and splurged, really splurged, to fill that lobster longing I wrote about a few days ago. They had lobster tails for $13.95 and I thought I could afford that, but when I asked I was told yes, they had been previously frozen. I have a tentative relationship with shellfish, can't eat shrimp at all, and have found that I can eat fresh lobster and crab but not frozen or canned. The fish lady offered to steam a lobster and take it out of the shell, which she did quite quickly while I waited. (I can do it but I rarely get the claw pieces out in one big piece as she did.) Please do not ask about the cost, but my lobster salad tonight was delicious--a bit of celery and green onon, lemon juice, dry mustard and mayo, all lightly used so it wouldn't hide the lobster taste. And there's enough left for tomorrow night---shhh, dont tell Jordan who will probably show up right at lunchtime, after church, tomorrow. She gets tuna salad.
Jacob and I ate al fresco--a picnic on the porch. I had given him his choice of going out for either spaghetti or tacos and he said he wanted Mexican, but after I got changed he said, "I want to eat here. You can take those clothes off." So he had chicken nuggets and I had my lobster with hearts of palm and hummus. The breeze was just beginning to show signs of the cold front we expect tomorrow and now the air feels much chillier.
Jacob had a big day--a program by Kids Who Care in the morning, errands, a little boy's birthday party in the afternoon--he arrived with green hair and a fish on his cheek, which he announced he was wearing to church in the morning. Unfortunately he smeared his hand down his face and the fish transfered itself, not intact, to his hand. As I helped him clean it, he said, "I am just so angry!"
At 7:30 I was in the family room, reading while he watched TV. Left to come write an e-mail, came back at 7:50 and he was sound asleep, fully clothed. I have two concerns here: I'll have to get him up to pee, and he may wake up at six. Heaven help me!
I guess I'll make full use of my free evening and go to bed early just in case.

Finding yourself through memoir

My memoir class met tonight for the second session of the spring semester. It simply amazes me how those women have bonded and will share the most personal secrets--sometimes blurting them out, which is what I did tonight. Something we were talking about touched a nerve in me, and I told about an incident I had never ever mentioned to anyone--not my bad, but that of someone close to me at the time. It's wonderful to be in a group where there is such trust--what is said there never leaves that room. And, as Jordan always warns me, "Don't blog about this, but . . . ." and then she proceeds to tell me some tidbit. So, no, I can't share. But take my word--it's fascinating. This much I can share:
One class member recounted a story about a strange woman she met periodically over the years, and she said it was only in the writing that she realized the significance of those meetings and the message she was supposed to get from them. Memoir is indeed a way of discovering yourself. Another woman described her parents' descent into old age, and I suggested I wanted to hear more about her, more about how she felt. We have moved into fiction, and one woman read a part of a short story that was gripping, though she had some things to work on.
The whole time I was leading the class, I was babysitting--sort of. Jacob was in the back watching a DVD, but close to the end of the class he called for me and said he was hungry (I had bought a Lunchable for him that he despised) so Linda and I collaborated on fixing a pbj. He came in to greet the ladies as they arrived and charmed them all. After they left he was through with TV and decided to follow me wherever I went--we had some interesting conversations, but it's no wonder I find myself bone-weary tonight.
I did mention to the class that this morning I heard Diane Rhem interview a woman named Stacy Lannert, author of Redemption, a memoir about her father's sexual abuse of her and her sister and her ultimate act of shooting him, for which she spent time in prison. In the interview she came across as a remarkable woman, charming, open, frank, and dedicated to seeing that no children suffer as she had. I recommend the book highly, even though I haven't read it. It sounds like everything a memoir should be--looking back and making sense out of your own life experiences. That's what I hope I can lead these women to do--and maybe do myself. I'm going to write a piece for next time, though I never read my pieces unless we run out of class material.

2011 is off to a good start

Is New Year's Day an omen of how the year will go? In so many ways I hope so. The highlight of the day was TCU's close but decisive win of the Rose Bowl. Who thought a school of 8700 could field a team against a school of 42,000 students and win? Jordan and Christian and Susan and Jay and I watched, while Jacob boycotted us and watched the Disney channel in my office. I'm curious to see what changes this big, national win will have on campus--it can either focus attention completely on athletics at the cost of academics or it can help boost all facets of the university. I'm hoping for the latter--and for a strong university press as part of the deal.
The day was also off to a good cooking start--sort of a no-brainer but I heated a spiral-sliced ham, made mashed potatoes, heated canned black-eyed peas (I never can cook them from scratch so they're any good, but, Barbara, if you're reading this I can still do purple hulls as you showed me years ago). I made a Reuben spread for an appetizer, and Jay brought an amazing array of cookies and sweets that he'd baked over the holidays. Jacob helped me cook--he's suddenly crazy about cooking (if he's in the right mood and has his apron). He helped make salad dressing, dumped the peas into a saucepan, watched me unwrap the ham carefully, and at the table took credit for much of the meal. We all praised him. I wanted him to keep his apron on so we could have our pictures taken but a blow-up over whether the TCU game or Rudolph should be on the TV put him in a bad mood--and he was moody off and off all evening. I know, I know, I believe in discipline but it just breaks my heart when he sobs. The typical soft-hearted grandmother.
And the day was a good omen for writing (I hope)--I submitted my mystery, Skeleton in a Dead Space, to a small press. The fact that I'm going to try a few small presses and then go to self-publishing is indicative of the changes we've seen in publishing just over the past year. Self-publishing has lost it's tinge of disgrace (though some bad books still see their way to at least electronic print that way), small presses are doing gangbuster things, and some people predict the decline of the chain bookstores and a resurgence of the indie stores. All laudable trends since publishing in New York has been sort of a closed circle that it was hard-to-impossible for a beginner to enter. I don't think this is sour grapes because an agent submitted my mystery to the major big publishers without success--I think it's more a recognition of the changing face of publishing. I'm not going to justify the fact that a major publisher wasn't swept away by my book--I know how many mystery writers there are out there. But with my small press background, I'm cheering the new approach to books and publishing.
Technology is changing so fast too--Jay brought over tonight the book Susan made him for Christmas, a chronological record of the dishes he has cooked for them over the last two or three years. She took the pictures with her iPhone, designed it on her computer, and sent it off to some service of Apple to be bound. Result is a quality book, hard-bound, dust jacket and all--and to my eye good color. (OK, Melinda, your eye would be more discerning). I was much impressed, and Jay was sentimental about it. He is, by the by, a great experimental cook and creates some wonderful dishes!
I would happily accept my day as an omen for the new year except for nagging distress over Jacob's meltdowns--I guess that's all part of being four. I hope each of you found as much pleasure in your day and look forward to a great year.

My work ethic conscience

My conscience has been bothering me because I started yet another revision of my first mystery, Skeleton in a Dead Space, and then put it down in the rush of the season. Even after cleaning up from Friday's party, I could find other things to do, other books to read, and ignore the manuscript. Tonight I finally got back to it. It's always to my mind a little chancy to put something down and pick it up even days later, let alone weeks (which is what I've done with another novel). I think to write a good novel you have to live in the world of the characters and have them in  your mind all the time. I haven't done that, but then I know Skeleton almost by heart. It was fairly easy to pick up again. Going back to my Blue Plate book will be a different thing. I have of course great plans to work hard over the holidays, which I know I won't do. But after the new year, maybe fresh eyes will be a good thing.
This morning Jacob and I piddled. I was horrified to realize at noon that I hadn't made my bed yet. But we had a good time, and he kept himself busy all morning without TV. He ate three waffles and most of a pbj and was excited when his mom mentioned a taco at 1:30. Child must be in a growth spurt.
Yesterday I ate leftovers--savory thing with strong flavors, so today I really wanted bland. Had a tuna sandwich and hummus for lunch, turkey meatloaf and roasted brussel sprouts for dinner. Tomorrow all the leftovers go out--tomorrow is their latest "use by" date. I'll be glad to clear out the fridge though it seems a shame to throw away good food.

Holiday parties

Giving a holiday party is a bit like packing for a trip--going through the house wondering what you forgot! Since I'm a compulsive who does things way ahead, I had lots of time for that kind of second guessing. Then after the party, you feel slightly like a truck has run over you. At least I did last night as I was cleaning up, especially my feet.
But inbetween are those golden hours of greeting old and dear friends and watching them enjoy each other--and the food. I had warned everyone I wasn't going all out this year but of course they thought I did--my triumphs included a Reuben spread--the ingredients of a Reuben sandwich put into a spread--and a salmon terrine with cream cheese, lots of it, and capers and dill. In spite of my fears, it was easy to make--its layered--and easy to unmold. I still had a few sprigs of dill in the pots on the porch so they decorated it. Medium successes: chopped chicken liver and herring--the few people that eat those loved them but they're not items of general appeal. Still I remember when I used to serve large bowls of herring and everyone loved it.  Failures: the bean dip with pesto and lemon juice--unappetizing color and texture; brie because it didn't cook right, though everyone ate it. Things I didn't cook that were okay: marinated vegetables and hummus. I really overestimated on desserts and am now frantically trying to think of people who need them so I won't be tempted.
I've been giving some form of a tree trimming party since the mid-sixties, and many people have been coming almost that long. These days it's an almost annual, no-tree tree-trimming party because I never put up a tree any more. It's just that the label has stuck to the party so firmly. But the best part of it is that people see others they're really fond of but don't see often. It's a time of a lot of hugging, and this year it was a time of a lot of children--three of my grandchildren, four of my brother's, and two of Jacob's cousins. I had a separate kids menu--grapes, carrots, cherry tomatoes, pigs in a blanket, cheese strips. The children ranged in age from 11 years to 3 months. All in all, it was a lovely evening.
And after a good long sleep, I was glad I cleaned up last night and only had to put dishes away.
Today I nibbled on leftovers and then served them to guests. An author I'd worked with and encouraged to rewrite his novel (it was subsequently rejected after I left the press) wrote to say he and his wife would be at a B&B just blocks from my house and could we get together for coffee. I invited them for a glass of wine, served leftovers (they'd never eaten chopped liver and liked it a lot), and we had a delightful visit--very pleasant people, good conversation, both about writing and lots of other things. It kind of carried the festive mood of the weekend over.
Jacob is here. He arrived sleepy, turned very shy for my company and sat in my lap refusing to speak to them, and finally livened up with a little food and ice cream. Now we're fighting the to-bed battle. Ah, well.

Lazy Jacob day and a good dinner

Having fallen asleep before 9 p.m., Jacob woke birght-eyed and bushy-tailed at 6:30 this morning. I did not share his enthusiasm for the day. I got him to cuddle for half an hour, but he's a pretty restless, wriggly cuddler. At seven, I thought, okay, I'll turn on the TV for him and feed the cat (he kept telling me Wywy wanted food!). I did and got another 45 minutes of dozing, which brightened my mood considerably.
Our good weather continued today, and we spent a lot of time on the porch (I had to convince him he could not go out in his underwear). We tasted and talked about the various herbs in my porch garden--I think he liked chives best. We watched squirrels, and I sent him on a hunt for geckos on the brick of t he house. He moved his precious rock collection for me, so I could put the plumbago in a spot where it got more much-needed sun. With the nicer weather, my porch has come back to life--the basil no longer droops, the plumbago and impatiens are blooming. It's like a green sanctuary. On our second trip to the porch for the morning, Jacob thought he saw a bee and nothing would do but that we go inside. Then, inside, he spotted a spider and insisted I "get it," when my inclination was to let the poor creature go about his business. Still, I decided when it came to a standoff between Jacob and a spider, he won hands down. Goodbye, spider.
I told Jacob to take a body rest after lunch, and I had what I'd call an interrupted nap--he kept appearing at my bedside with some new announcement. When I finally got up, he lay still as could be and watched TV. I was still trying to persuade him to put his clothes back on when his mom arrived. We did sit outside, and the new neighbors wandered over for a visit. Jacob and their two-year-old played sweetly--a pleasant encounter.
I fixed a dinner of lamb burgers, wedge salad with a pumped up ranch dressing, and feta bread--the latter was the centerpiece of the meal. You heat an oven proof skillet (my reliable iron one) in a 500 degree oven for five minutes, the pour in 2 Tbsp. olive oil and a batter of flour, baking powder, salt, water, olive oil, and vodka (not sure why the latter), spread it around quickly because it begins to cook immediately, and top it with feta and dots of butter. Bake for 15-20 minutes, still at 500, and remove carefully. The directions were so full of cautions for dealing with the extreme heat and the need for speed that I was intimidated, but it really wasn't hard at all--and it came out great. Like a pizza with a really thin crust topped with feta. Christian immediately wanted to open a pizza parlor and serve variations of it, until I asked if I had to do the cooking? If you're interested in the recipe, try to find a Web site called "the meaning of pie" and scroll back to older entries--it's worth the chase, believe me.
Jacob was an angel all weekend--well, okay, a couple of mis-steps, but nothing serious. For some reason when his parents arrive, his behavior deteriorates, Jordan gets impatient, and confusion results. I'm not sure how to handle that.
Back to the workaday world tomorrow after my nice lazy weekend. I dreamt I was getting ready to be at the office at 8;00 a.m. and then I thought, "Wait! I'm retired. Why am I going in at eight?" And tomorrow I can sleep past 6:30.

Mostly food--and a lot of rain

This morning was a lovely day to be inside--almost dark, constant rain, thunder and lightning. I piddled, had to put the dog out for nature's call, but only stuck my own head out enough to empty garbage and get the paper. Christian and I planned to take Jacob to the deli for  lunch, but I didn't want to get out, didn't want to put make-up on. I said I had lunches for Jacob (pbj or grilled cheese) but I didn't have much that would appeal to Christian--my lunch supply consists of gravlax and salmon, tuna, liverwurst, hummus, and hearts of palm. Christian was quick to say not to worry about him--he'd eat a bigger meal just before he goes to work because it's a long time then until he can eat again. I laughed, because I knew none of what he calls my odd tastes would appearl to him. He did stop and get a Happy Meal for Jacob and the accoutrements have kept him busy all day. He actually fell asleep watching TV when I was prepared to think the best I could hope for was a "body rest," as he calls it.
Jacob and I had kosher hot dogs and baked beans for dinner, but I spent some time today cooking for tomorrow. I'm going to make pinto beans the old-fashioned way that I learned probably 30 or more years ago. You soak them overnight, then fry salt pork and onion together (that brown from frying really adds to the taste), and then throw in five bouillion cubes while the beans are cooking. I fried the salt pork and onions tonight. I had a hard time finding salt pork in the grocery--I guess in this health-conscious age we don't cook with it.
I also made a marinade of beef broth, low sodium soy, lemon juisce and garlic for the brisket--which is really too big for the pan. When I first put it in the fridge to marinate I had marinade all over the floor and the inside of the fridge. I opted out of adding the liquid smoke--just want the pure beef taste. Sounds good to me. I'll cook it a lot longer than the recipe said.
Just looked up and the child I thought I had put to bed was sitting on the couch watching me. I hustled him back to bed. He'd had a stomach problem much of the day and occasionally cried that he wanted his daddy to fix his bottom. A big poop took care of that. But the downside is now, at almost ten o'clock, he's feeling wide awake and frisky. I'm not.

An almost perfect fall day

Fall is coming to Texas. The temperature is finally below the low 90s. Today it was humid, really so in the morning, but stiill a perfect morning to drive around with the top down. I had a haircut, and my hair really looked cute when I left the salon--but then I finished my errands top down, and there went that. Still it was worth every minute of driving with the air blowing around me.
Tonight I took a book and an extra glass of wine to the front porch and sat and enjoyed the breeze and the view. My neighbors across the street have the most amazing tall cedars--they lost one in a storm this year, but the others have fiilled in. My crape myrtle, usually slow to bloom and then never blooming profusely, is bursting with flowers, as those trees are all over town. Greg, my botanist friend, tells me it's because of the cool spell we had last week. They're beautiful but messy! I have a  wonderful big but very old elm in front of my house. It used to lose branches from time to time, but it seems stable now. Every time I called the city to take away a  fallen branch, I quaked in fear they'd take the tree down but they said it's still healthy. I hope it lasts as long as I last in this house. To the west of my front yard, I have a lovely lush maple that was small when I moved here eighteen years ago. I must talk to Greg about raising the canopy, but for now it looks really wonderful. The whole street is tree-lined, and I sort of feel I'm in a forest when I look around. My porch plants have come back amazingly after the horrible heat--my fern hanging basket is particularly wonderful. And the hanging sweet potato plant has sent a shoot up the chain the holds it. My only regret is that it gets dark so much earlier these days.
Porch party Sunday night for sixteen. I worried that it would be too hot. Now I'm worried that it may be too cool. High predicted for Sunday is 78, with a low that night in the 50s. Yep, fall is on the way. Meantime, I did some savvy shopping at Central Market and got a whole brisket for $6-something instead of the trimmed ones for $15+ a lb. My gosh!
Looking forward to the weekend. I'll have Jacob from noon Sat. until supper Sunday--hmmmm. How to keep him amused? His other grandparents take him to movies, the state fair, things I'm just not up to alone. Yet he seems to love to come here, so we'll see.

Milestones

I hit two miletones yesterday--and one of them almost slipped by me. When I reached the mark of 19,000 hits on my blog, I thought I'd watch and have a blogobration (is that a blog celebration?) at 20,000. But I must have turned my head. Either that or more people read it than usual, because last night I looked and it was at 20,077. Now folks, this is not the Huffington Post--that probably gets over a thousand hits a day. I've been blogging four years, so that probably averages to 20 hits a day, though I think it's been growing lately. I guess the good news is that people don't read it once or twice and get bored but seem to come back. So I'm pleased. I enjoy blogging, and I'll keep doing it. I thank those of you who read it daily--Jeannie and Marcia and Elizabeth, among others--and those of you who check in when  you have time. Sometimes I think my blog is such a mish-mash that I'm not sure where it's going--but I try to keep it a mix of writing, cooking, and grandmothering--hats off to Melanie for coming up with that concept and title. And I try to avoid politics, though every once in a while I can't resist inserting a bit of my opinion on that subject. But thank you all for reading and caring. I'd like to hear more from you--what do you want me to talk about, what interests you, what bores you?
The second milestone was that I sent the rough draft of my Texas food book to the publisher who's expressed interest--I guess I blogged about that last night. But it was an accomplishment, because when I first looked at the list of foods that began in Texas, I thought writing about all of them was insurmountable. It wasn't. Instead it was fun.
Another phone bank day at the Bill White campaign office. I particularly liked the lady who said she didn't know anything about White, and we got to chatting. At one point she said to me, "I'm 70, but I'm not a dumb 70." I replied, "I got you beat. I'm 72." We laughed and continued to have a good conversation. It makes you feel good when you open someone's eyes to study the issues and the candidates, even if they don't immediately agree with you. Several people said to me, "I don't want to get involved." A campaign worker said, "You should ask them why they don't want to get involved. Don't they realize this is their state, and who is elected affects their daily lives?" I'll try it next week.
Jacob came for supper tonight. Supper consisted for him of seven chicken nuggets and one blackberry. I made myself another version of tuna salad--this with lemon, tomato, fresh tarragon from my porch, mayonnaise, red onion, and ate it along with hearts of palm and hummus. Good dinner, and not too fattening. Jacob's dad came and together they fnished the blackberries. But I turned a deaf ear to Jacob's pleas for ice cream. I think I've learned my lesson about sweets. He proudly pointed out to his dad where he hid under the dining room table the other night, and Christian, bless him, used the occasion to reinforce that Jacob was not ever going to hide from Juju again.
I'm usually a sound sleeper but last night I could not get to sleep. I would swear I didn't sleep all night, but my mom used to tell me I did and just didn't know it. But I do know I never got that deep REM sleep we need--and this morning at an 8:00 breakfast I felt like I was sleep-walking. Jacob's early arrival interrupted a good nap that Scooby and I were sharing, so I'm off to bed early. It seems a busy week looms, but when I think about it, I suspect its easily manageable.
Again, thanks for being interested in me and my doings, my writing, my cooking, my family.

Understanding the separation of mind and body

Jacob understands the separation of mind and body perfectly. Today as I sat reading, he began throwing himself on the daybed where he sleeps, then sliding off and landing in a heap on the floor. He repeated this more times than I care to count, and each time he did it, he pushed the bed against the wall and the already frail and cheap mini-blinds in that window-filled room. Finally I said that was enough.
Jacob: I am not doing it. My body is not listening to my mind.
Me: Tell your body I'll give it a spanking.
He obediently walked over to me, so I hugged him and gave him a few gentle swats on his well-padded behind. He went back to throwing himself against the bed. "I'ts not working, Juju."
I told him to put his body in time out; he knows where the time out chair is. But he came back almost immediately, saying "My body won't stay there." Finally something else got his attention, but throughout the day he'd hit himself in the head and say, "Stop it, body. Stop hitting me." Of course I encouraged all this by laughing. His mom was a bit alarmed when he demonstrated for her tonight.
It was a Jacob day. We went to the grocery store, where I had to ask a sack person to put him in the seat in the front of the cart; then that didn't suit him, and we had a perilous maneuver getting him into the main basket of the cart. Then an equally perilous maneuver getting him out of it--I thought I was going to drop him in which case, I think, I might have broken the leg he wouldn't untangle from the cart. He weighs a whopping 44.5 lbs. now.
I snuck away occasionally to check email and do a bit of research on the web, but mostly I sat in the back room and read while Jacob watched TV and played. We had great conversations, and tonight we played a new game where I sent him out of the room, hid the miniature soccer, football and basketball I'd gotten him and he had to look for them. But I cannot do any work while he's here, and I cannot nap unless he falls asleep--which he didn't do. He was in and out of my bed, wanted to talk to Scooby (which only gets Scooby all excited), had to potty (didn't really), wanted a drink (forgot about that quickly). I finally turned the TV back on for him and tried to nap but it was too late.
Made a chicken salad with scallions, celery, blue cheese, lemon, mayo and sour cream for Jordan tonight. Finally remembered how I'd done that--and it was good. I also made Ellerbee's heirloom tomato salad, and it was great (look it up on Epicurious.com) though I'm not sure I could tell a difference between the heirloom tomatoes and regular fresh from the vine ones.
Giving myself a vacation the rest of the night. Back to the real world tomorrow.

Action figures, southwestern tuna, and mutt makeovers

Elizabeth and Weldon came for supper tonight and mostly spent the evening taking pictures of action figures with Jacob--they were all enchanted and so was I. She emailed earlier in the week to ask if I'd be making southwestern tuna and I said I would if they'd come eat it with me, so they did tonight--and Jacob was highly entertained. Apparently he woke up from his nap asking if he'd see Weldon today. Jordan had no idea he would and was astounded to find them here. Maybe Jacob is psychic, but they all had a delightful time. We had fruit salad and marinated tomatoes with our tuna. Weldon and Elizabeth are my friends who are gluten free, and she has a blog (http://www.cowstoquinoa.blogspot.com/) about their diet. She wants to post the recipe (and pictures of making it) later this week on her blog, but since we have different readers, I'll put the recipe here:

Two 7 oz. cans tuna (we of course used that special tuna I ordered from Oregon, which they now are eating too), Add 1/4 c. mayonnaise, 3 Tbsp. chopped red onion, 3 Tblsp. chopped cilantro, 2 Tbsp. green chilis, 1 tsp. lime peel, 1 tsp. lime juice (I used almost 1 Tbsp.), and 1/8 tsp each cumin and chili powder, At first we were going to make only one can of tuna, but, never good at following recipes, I put in 1 tsp. each cumin and chili powder, so I decided we needed two cans of tuna. Good thing we did, because we ate most of it.Jordan can eat the leftovers tomorrow for lunch.

Today's newspaper had a great article about a program called Mutt Makeover, an outgrowth of the national
Mustang Makeover program that tames wild mustangs for adoption. In the Mutt program, trainers take dogs from the Humane Society, train them for ten weeks, and offer tham for adoption. I rescued my dog Scooby from the Humane Society (where someone said considering his age--3.5 years at the time--and his size--55 lbs.--it was a wonder he hadn't been euthanized, a thought that troubles me to this day). He is a beautiful specimen of an Australian shepherd, and the most loveable, sweet dog in the universe, but he had cage fever when I got him and there are some aspects of civilization he'll never get--trustworthy house manners (he's okay if I'm around or if he's in his bed), calm behavior around company, begging for food. He also will never get over his herding instinct. I love him dearly, but I couldn't help thinking what a wonderful dog he'd be if a professional trainer had taken him on. Yes, I had a trainer, but it was mostly left up to me, and while I corrected some bad habits--chewing on stuffed animals, jumping on people and furniture--I never have gotten him fully civilized. Now he's eleven, and I figure it's too late for eaither of us to change.

Oops, the same picture appears twice. Sorrhy about my incompetence.

Trivia-and Jacob

Does someone out there in junk email-land know more about my finances than I do? I am suddenly deluged with offers of quick cash, advance loans, all sorts of ways to get instant money. Just think of the trouble people get into if they reply to these emails. They show up in my junk mail and in the mail TCU quarantines. And its just happened all of the sudden, like someone sent out word "Here's a likelly patsy."
Another frustration: figs cost like gold in the grocery (when you can find them) yet they're popular in a lot of trendy recipes in  Bon Appetit and similar publications. I have a source of wealth in my backyard--a large tree with tons of little green figs. But every time one gets at all near ripe, some critter--bird or squirrel?--takes an unappetizing chunk out of it.
A new frustration: a really sore tooth. I'm hoping by Monday, when I can call the dentist, it will have healed itself. They do that, don't they . . . sometimes?
Jacob has been here since noon--I fixed lunch for his dad and him, and we had a good visit. Then Christian went off to work. Jacob has been sweet and happy. My former neighbor Sue and her parents came for a glass of wine about five--I always enjoy her parents. They are from Canda, which gives me a link, and they're my age and nice people. Jacob, sometimes shy, was bright, outgoing and funny, and we all enjoyed a good visit. Now I'm in the throes of trying to get Jacob to bed--his mom complains that he stays up too late at my house (it has an advantage--he sleeps later in the morning). But he can draw out the bedtime process longer than anyone I know. I'm about to go turn off the TV, but he will play with his toys long after that. I always hope he'll go to sleep before I'm ready to.
Jacob was leery of my dog and cat when he was little. He long ago decided the cat is his friend and loves him (I'm not so sure about that, but Wywy tolerates him) and tonight Jacob was more involved with the dog than he has been, kept saying, "He's a good dog." He is, and he has the sweetest disposition--he's just sometimes overhwhelming with his enthusiasm. But they had a happy meeting tonight, which says to me Jacob is growing up--and maybe Scooby, who will be eleven in August, is mellowing with age.
While I kept Jacob company, I actually got a lot of work done on my food book--notes taken. I am so intrigued by this, though I'll be glad to work through the section on Wolf Brand Chili.

A lazy Sunday

I meant to take Jacob to church today. Honest, I really did. But he has this new habit of climbing into my bed about 7:30 and crawling over me, sometimes literally sitting on my  head, to get to talk to Scooby, who immediately gets awake and excited and wants to go out. So, reluctantly,  I am up and about the day. This morning we moved slowly--well, I did. Jacob was full of vim and vigor. I read the paper, fed us breakfast--he asked for chocolate bars but I explained that was not breakfast food--and then finished the clean up from last night, putting away dishes, emptying the dishwasher, and so on. When Jordan called at ten to confirm that we were going to church, I told her I didn't have the energy. So I had Jacob until almost noon. His new trick, that he apparently saw on TV, is to bow in front of you, hold out one hand, and say in a soft, non-Jacob voice, "Yes, your majesty." Cracked me up every time he did it, and then he'd get the giggles. We had a good morning.
Actually did some work this afternoon and then had a long nap. Jay and Susan came for a drink and to eat leftover Texas caviar--Jay confessed that when I called he didn't know what it was and googled it to find out. Tonight I've sent them the recipe. But I heard all about their trip to Chicago and am indebted to them for exploring "my" part of the city--Hyde Park and Kenwood. They loved the city and made me a bit nostalgic for it--of course, the company Jay works for is headquartered on Pulaski on the West Side, so he's familiar with it, but Susan had never been. They thought, as I still do, that the lake was wonderful, and the University of Chicago magnificent, the Art Institute awesome (they have a friend who's a curator and gave them a behind-the-scenes tour). It was lovely to sit and listen to their description.
Since then I've been lazy--ate chili con queso for supper and decided it's the salt that gets you--whew! Velveeta must have a high sodium content or mybe I'm getting more sensitive to these things lately. Anyway a busy week looms,, so I'm just going to read and go to bed.
I'm reading a mystery in which the victim is poisoned--seems I've read several of those lately and they are of particular interest since my work-in-progress revolves around poisoning--in fact a restaurant poisoning, as in Delicious and Suspicious, by Riley Adams, the one I'm now reading. Don't know what the poison was in this case, but I have laid the groundwork for what it is in my book--just don't know if it's lethal enough. Writing and reading mysteries is a lot of fun, though my work this week will be on the nonfiction book I'm doing.