An old friend visits

My old friend, anxiety, paid me a visit over the weekend. She doesn't come very often, and this time her visit was sort of like a whisper. First she descended on me when I was at the grocery, but I'm a good faker--I visited with friends I ran into and one of my favorite checkers and drove home without incident. After lunch and a nap, she was gone.
She came again Sunday and gave me shaky hands, which I so hoped Jordan wouldn't notice as we fixed poor boy sandwiches for lunch. But she said, "Why are you so shaky?" I didn't know, had no idea. I fiddled at my desk until about 10:30, then got up and did a bunch of housework in a hurry and suddenly was shaky. Of course when someone notices, then you become self-conscious about it and get shakier than ever. A good lunch, a little wine, and a nap fixed it.
But anxiety leaves a hangover behind her. I spent much of the morning being terribly introspective: How do I feel? Am I all right? Am I anxious? By noon I went to lunch with a good friend who happened to mention another friend who has such severe anxiety attacks that he calls in desperation for someone to sit with him. I realize the value of sitting is distraction, and lunch did that for me, got me "out of myself." But I also realize that I'm lucky that anxiety's visits to me are lighter and less frequent and that I am not the only one afflicted with these unwanted visits. Anxiety tends to isolate you--you think you're the only neurotic one who experiences these visits when, in fact, it's much more common than most people realize.
In retrospect, it was a good day. And tonight I'll get some reading done if not some writing. My neighbor--the good-looking one--came over to dislodge a dead fluorescent bulb (usually I can do that) and free a corkscrew from a cork I couldn't budge--he said he figured that would be an emergency. We had a nice, front-porch visit.
I can feel the lazies leaving my and my ambition returning. Feels good.


 

Faery peaches for a faery garden

A couple of weeks go, in Austin, I visited a wonderful nursery called The Great Outdoors. One special area was devoted to faery gardens, miniature gardens with house, tiny plants, rock and crystals for faeries. They ranged from elaborate to quite small; one was even in an old desk drawer. I bought a small one for Elizabeth, partly because I knew she'd like it and partly to thank her for caring for Sophie while I was gone. The faeries, I assured her, would protest her at night.
Now she's gone to Pennsylvania for a visit, and the faery garden is in my house, where I carefully give it just a tiny bit of water--faeries don't need much--every other day.
Last night a neighbor I'd never met (sad commentary) came to the door with three small children in tow. They were sharing an abundance of peaches from their tree--small, tiny peaches like none I've ever seen. But he assured me they were sweet and good--and he was right. I thanked them, all the time holding on to Sophie, so I wasn't the best hostess.
When I took the peaches out of the bag I found a note that said "Peaches from our faery tree." I wish I'd known sooner--I would have invited the children in to see the faery garden. Jacob, who covets the small garden, was thrilled with the peaches. He insisted on putting the bowl next to the garden and said the peaches were for the faeries to eat, one a day. I could not convince him that they came from the faeries for us to eat. He even put the note in the garden, so the faeries would understand.
Isn't it wonderful to have the imagination and belief in faeries, elves and other creatures of the air that a seven-year-old holds to so firmly? It's like magic, and I vow to stop trying to bring too much reality into his world of the imagination. I only wish I could recapture that magic myself.

A new deck and a busy day

They started framing the new deck on the back of my house today. As  you can see, Sophie likes it. It will be 10x12, just right for a table and six chairs and lots of plants. This picture was taken about six, so you can see that on many nights it will be plenty shady for cocktails and supper. Tonight of course was just too blamed hot, but a late night glass of wine out there would be pleasant. Meantime I'm forbidden to go out there--everyone is sure I'll fall over the framing. Susan and Jay went out there with no problem tonight, and I'm sure I could--but how embarrassing to prove them right. Besides, I have no reason to go right now. The Bundocks, Lewis and Jim, only work on it mornings--today was the first day--because the afternoons are too hot.
I'm enjoying my new routine of getting up at 6:30 and doing my yoga, though I tell myself if one morning I don't want to leave my bed that early, I don't have to. This week I'm delivering Jacob to Vacation Bible School at nine in the morning and picking him up at noon. Today by the time I took him to the church, I had done my yoga, watered the porch plants, started two loads of laundry, read my email and Facebook, and made ham salad for my lunch! Still, I didn't settle down to serious work as early as I hoped.
Started a new, as yet untitled novel today, the next in the Kelly O'Connell series, and got a good 800 words done. Still hope to do 200 more tonight to reach my daily goal of 1,000--last time I did that, I felt the novel flowed more smoothly and went faster.  I see days looming when I won't do that much, but I can also see some when I'll do more.
Tonight I hosted an impromptu happy hour. Since our former neighbor, Sue, was coming over at six, I invited Jay and Susan. We had a good visit, but no Sue, so they went home; two minutes later, Sue arrived, so I had a second happy hour. We too had a good visit but I was sorry they had all missed each other. I had my supper all ready to heat and did so about eight--stuffed zucchini and corn on the cob. Delicious.
Now, on to that last 200 words!

HIgh tea, of sorts

Instead of writing the Great American novel, this morning you would have found me in the kitchen making finger sandwiches. Now I’ve been to high tea—notably at The Adolphus Hotel in Dallas--and I know how fingers sandwiches should look. My cucumber, chive, cream cheese ones did not look that neat—they kept falling apart. When my children were little I used to make two or three kinds of sandwiches and cut them into finger sandwiches, so each child could have several choices. Colin had a fondness for cream cheese and mayonnaise until a friend said, “Colin, it doesn’t have any flavor.”

 

Some of the sandwiches I made this morning were for little boys—peanut butter and honey. But I was really trying to make nice, ladylike ones. Jordan informed me a couple of weeks ago she had invited my back-fence neighbor and her two boys for tea in the garden and promptly began digging out some of my mom’s fancy dishes I never use. I try to go along with most of Jordan’s schemes, so I went shopping yesterday for just the right bread (Pepperidge Farm thin sliced), whipped cream cheese spread, pimento cheese, trail mix and amaretto-coated pecans. I mean, if we’re going uptown, we’re going to do it right.

Jordan laid out trays, dishes, etc. and had everything ready last night. After school, Jacob did a check of the back yard for dog poop. “Did she poop?” he asked. Since he hadn’t checked in three days, I told him I was pretty sure she had. Then we rushed through his homework.

Tea turned out not to be quite as elegant as I’d hoped. Jordan and Elizabeth said it was awfully hot outside for hot tea, so we sat in the playroom, with three boys yelling and screaming around us, riding a trike for which the are far too old and which desperately needs WD-40 to quiet it. We had one bloody nose that entailed a lot of wailing and screaming and apparently quite a bit of blood. But it was fun. Over the noise we managed to visit and talk about first grade and homework and the end of school and other things. I’ll rethink the event for another time.

Jordan helped me clean up, and we sat in the yard for a glass of wine. Maybe high tea isn’t our cup of tea. Guess what I had for supper? Yes, finger sandwiches. They were pretty darn good.

A good kind of too tired

Last night I posted that I was too tired to write Judy's Stew and several kind people posted with wishes for a good rest and the like. I was so tired I did something I never do: went to bed with dishes in the sink and got up this morning to face soaking flatware and a greasy crockpot. But let me stress: I was the good kind of tired that comes from an evening surrounded by people who are important to me, eating more than my share of food and drinking a tad more wine than wise. When my neighbors and family get together, it's noisy, happy, always an evening full of joy. I can't hear a thing anyone says, but I love it.
We gathered last night to welcome Graham and Heather Brizendine, with son Gage, my new neighbors to the east. We'll see a lot of each other in years to come as we have common driveways. Their house has been a worry to me--rental property in which there have been some people who became dear to me, some whom I never saw, and a couple of difficult ones--like the reclusive couple who threw trash in the bushes or the loud fraternity boys. I've had coeds--they were really polite and considerate--and a three TCU boys who made great neighbors. I had Sue, who has become part ofmy close circle of friends, and her two children for at least three years and grew use to having them nearby, parted with them sadly--but they're not far away. Still I always worried about who would move in next. Now I have a nice family, set to stay for many years--I hope they do.
It was a potluck supper, and I made crockpot barbecue--and announced last night if I ever said I would do it again, someone should commit me (Jay thought I mean commit me to making it but that's not what I had in mind). I remembered how good it was, I just forgot how much work it took. I shredded beef by hand while watching the Boston search. We had a feast--Jay made great potato salad with a definite lemon flavor, Greg and Jaimie brought enough cole slaw for Cox's army, Elizabeth contributed beans, Jordan and Cathy both brought veggies, cheese and snacks. I made a pan of cheater's chocolate chip cookies (so easy) and Cathy brought those bars that are graham crackers with brown sugar, butter and pecans on them--delicious! I hope Heather and Graham don't think we eat that way all the time! But I'm looking forward to a good lunch today. Even Jacob ate barbecue--he thought it was sloppy Joe.
Special thanks to Jordan and Elizabeth for helping put the dinner together, and even more important, putting away leftovers and organizing the kitchen so well that I finished it in under thirty minutes this morning. They freed me to visit with our guests, and I am grateful.
I am so grateful for my small, happy corner of the world!

Dogs are so funny!

Sophie with a favorite bone

Sometimes Sophie seems to know exactly what's going on and what we're saying to her. Other times she's clueless--or ignores us. This morning Jordan came in after taking Jacob to school, and Sophie, rope toy in her mouth, attacked, all but demanding, "Play with me, play with me!" Jordan declined because she didn't want to be jumped on in good work clothes. When she left, Sophie was the picture of dejection, rope toy still in her mouth. She stood looking out the window toward Jordan's car as if saying, "I can't believe she left me." When she heard the motor start, she dropped the toy. I'm sure she was saying to herself, "Well, there goes that."
A bit later, when I went to change so I could run some errands, she watched me anxiously. She knows what it means when I make the bed, take off pjs and put on jeans and a shirt. She slunk into her crate. I thought it was nice enough for her to be out since it was to be cold later but she clearly objected, so she stayed in her crate while I was gone.
Last night, she caused me some embarrassment. She's not a bad barker and certainly not one of those who barks to hear herself, but when she's in a frenzy over some critter, she has a high, shrill bark. I went to bring her in, but she was jumping at the back fence; obviously there was something up there. I don't remember hearing her bark, but I do know she ignored me when I called her. Then the neighbor behind us called and mentioned gently that they were trying to go to sleep early and Sophie was disturbing them. I went out, used my sternest voice and a chew stick as temptation, and got her in. This morning I sent off an apologetic email and got a pleasant reply, saying Sophie doesn't usually bother them.
Right now, Sophie is curled up at my feet, under my desk, good as gold, and we're both happy campers. She reminds me of the little girl with the curl: "And when she was good, she was very good/And when she was bad, she was horrid." I cannot imagine life without a dog--especially without Sophie who long ago worked her way into my heart..

Post Thanksgiving doldrums--and recovery

Guess it was a hard day all around. Jacob and I did much better on homework today, but we took frequent breaks--I had until seven o'clock, so I could stretch it out. Got everything done except the third read-through of his book (you have to do three a day--yikes!). I went through the kitchen about six calling "Okay, pause the TV. We're going to read that book," and the above is what I found. I let him sleep until about 6:30 but, knowing he's an awful grump when he wakes up from an unexpected nap, I began to nudge him then. First he was almost crying because he was soooo tired; then he was starving and could not wait ten minutes until we went to the Old Neighborhood Grill. By the time we got there he was quiet but okay, ate his grilled cheese and seemed to brighten. Then neighbor Mary Dulle charmed him by getting him to talk about DisneyWorld and by the time we left he was as effervescent as usual.
It was that kind of day--up and down. I got a lot done but in retrospect couldn't tell you what. Still I swept a lot of small stuff--from paying my cousin's bills to personal notes of sympathy and thanks--off my desk. And I was much more patient with my friend above about spelling and reading. Got a few errands run--bank deposit, gas station, books delivered to a store--and a bunch of work landed on my desk in emails, so I'm busy. I'm always a happier camper when I've got work to do. So maybe we're all getting past the post-holiday doldrums.

Yoga and writing

Yesterday I woke up in a funk. The prospect of lunch with one good friend and supper with two others didn't jolt me out of my blues. It took me a while--and a yoga session--to figure out what was bothering me. The novel I'm working on wasn't going well; in fact it wasn't going. I'd been reading a wonderful mystery mentioned in a previous blog--Mr. Churchill's Secretary. I got so thoroughly engrossed in it that it's been hard for me to start another novel, though my iPad is loaded with two new ones by authors whose work I usually enjoy. What set Mr. Churchill's Secretary apart was partly the significance of the backdrop--Hitler's march across Europe, the Luftwaffe bombings of London. But more than that, it was the unexpected. No one was who you thought they were, and good guys turned out to be villains, and those you had pegged as villains were good guys--or at least had a soft streak. My novel, on the other hand, was predictable--at least in my mind.
I figured all this out while stretching and pushing and doing all those yoga things--and counting to ten seconds for many poses. But I truly went back to work with renewed enthusiasm and have since written about 3500 words--okay, I know some authors write ten hours and 10,000 words a day--not me. But I finally feel that I'm headed in a better direction, and that's exciting.
I have enjoyed my social life--lunch with Melinda who, apart from having been my favorite employee at TCU Press, remains a good friend now that I'm not at the press; supper with Carol and Kathie, two book cronies I've known for years. We share each others triumphs, tragedies, and small concerns. Today I had lunch with several members of a book group I've spoken to three times--discovered one of them is a "field editor" for a cooking magazine--right up my alley, and I may have more to say about her later. But she gave me sample copies of Taste of Home and I had fun learing through them this afternoon. My favorite find: strawberries stuffied with a mix of cream cheese and blue cheese, and topped with a bit of balsamic vinaigrette (I'd leave out the chopped pecans). Would that be salad or dessert? It was a real boost to my ego to hear these ladies say again how much they liked my books, and one had read one of my historical novels and ordered another.
An aside; we deliberatel went to the Frank Kent Honda dealership for lunch. Good friend David Rotman who used to own Cafe Aspen now works there, and they asked him to spiff up their food service for customers and employees. He's brought some of the old Aspen recipes, and you can have a great lunch in the attractive chrome setting of a new car dealership. David wasn't there today, but we had a good lunch and good time. One salesman told us lunch was free if we bought a car; he told one of the other ladies if she paid his price for lunch, she'd get a free car.
Tonight was neighbors' night at the Old Neighborhood Grill and I had my meatloaf fix--the cashier looks at me and asks, "The usual?" When I nod, she pours a generous glass of Kendall Jackson chardonnay and orders up a piece of meat loaf and a side of green beans. I don't know--is it good to be that predictable? As we were leaving, one neighbor asked, "Are you going home to write?" I said I was, and she said, "Good. I need another mystery to read."
So all in all, writing is looking pretty good to me--and when I reread what I had done on that novel, it really wasn't all that bad. I think I'll run it by my mentor/beta reader/whatever next week and maybe get a critique partner through Sisters in Crime's Guppy program. Funk gone at least for now. Oh, and I've done my yoga faithfully. I think it helps both mind and body--and that funky right hip that's been bothering me.

Neighborhood and neighbors

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The elm tree in front of my house, from my front porch, where I entertain a lot

I live in the Berkeley Neighborhood in inner Fort Worth, an older neighborhood full of charming homes (mine was built in 1922) close enough to the hospital district and downtown that residents can avoid the freeway--a distinct bonus in my mind. We have wonderful huge trees, the kind that arch over the street forming a canopy. A huge old elm anchors my house to the street, and I live in fear that the city will say it's on its way out. Recently they came to trim it and pronounced it healthy. We have paved sidewalks, albeit some a little rough and uneven, and wonderful old-fashioned streetlights. Some houses are like mine--modest bungalows with that standard pattern--living, dining, kitchen on one side, and three bedrooms on the other; other homes are two-story, large and usually expensive. Many have been added on and undergone redos but in general the neighborhood has been good about maintaining ambience. There are few glaring mistakes and only one or two instances where the existing house was torn down to make room for a new one--a couple of McMansions but not bad.
It's a cohesive neighborhood with an active neighborhood association and a busy email "buzz." A dog runnning loose will be reported quickly, and neighbors turn out to help return it to the rightful owner. When developers wanted to build an apartment complex at the edge of the neighborhod, the association worked closely with them on such issues as noise abatement, lighting, traffic control, and a design reflecting the neighborhood. We'd rather not have the complex, but it will be the best we could get.
We are next to one of the larger city parks and the zoo--okay, that does cause traffic problems occasionally and there's an occasional report (rarely verified) of a coyote sighting--when seen, the poor animal must have wandered up from the river in the park. Within walking distance there are several good restaurants and a lot more within five minutes by car.
One of the things I find neighborly that I discovered a year ago or less, thanks to a friend, was the neighborhood dinner group. A small group meets on Tuesday nights, informally, for supper at the Old Neighborhood Grill. You never know who will be there or if you'll end up eating alone--though that rarely happens. I'm impressed that most of these people are involved in their churches and community, for instance with Leadership Fort Worth. One has been a mainstay of the neighborhood association for  years. They're people who take their community seriously. Conversation is always lively, and tonight it touched on what a gem our city has in the University of North Texas Health Science Center with its pioneering programs. One of the best forensic medicine programs in the country, with experts who are called on worldwide to do work; an outstanding Alzheimer's research program. Those were but two, but I know there are many more.
I was involved with the health science center, once a stand-alone osteopathic medical college, from its earliest days, and it gave me a secret glow to hear these people praise it. They know nothing about the early hard-scrabble days--though maybe someday I'll tell them, since it's a subject I've written on.
Neighbors can be the nicest folks on earth.

Neighbors

The house to the east of me is rental property. We have common driveways, and their kitchen, dining and living rooms look out at me; my office, where I spend most of my time, looks out at them. So I get to know whoever lives there pretty well. When I first moved here, the owners lived in the house with small children (now grown), who used to get out in the driveway at 7 a.m. on Saturdays and scream, "Daddy! Daddy!" They moved to a larger house and there was a newly married couple in their maybe mid-thirties--nice enough people (except for one smashing driveway argument)--but they had a half wolf/half dog that howled. His name was Grant, and my kids, then grown, thought it was "Grand Goddman it!" because if he howled in the early morning, I'd come straight up in bed shouting that. (Excuse my profanity). Then came a series of college kids--some boys who were pleasant and not noisy, some boys I barely knew who had parties so loud I once called the police explaining I didn't want them to get in trouble, I just wanted them to be quiet (found out other neighbors had called too, which made me feel better). There was one weird couple--he had a homemade-looking van conversion from which he sold golf balls (one friend said to me, "Yes, but what's inside the golf balls?) and his wife was so reclusive I thought maybe she had agoraphobia. I was always tempted to see if I could help, but  they were so strange I kept my distance.
Then came Sue, about seven years ago. Newly divorced, with two young children. I met her parents first in the driveway and took to them instantly--of course, they're Canadian! Sue and I became good friends in spite of a 30-year age difference, and we shared a lot of wine on my porch. With Jay and Susan, neighbors to the west, we had a happy little community. Sue moved maybe two years ago, but we are still close--and she is only nine minutes away. She's clocked it. She calls me her Fort Worth mom, and I am awed by what wonderful people her children have grown to be--one in high school, one in middle school now. I was distressed when she moved, and the house sat vacant for a long time. I still get a visit with her folks when they come to town,  usually twice a year.
The Latimers moved in--Meredith, Brannon, and two-year-old Abby. They've been there almost two years and have become almost family--Meredith and Jordan visit a lot, and Meredith said the other day she's tempted to call me "Mom." Jacob adores going over there to play with Abby and the new baby, Grayson, now a year old. But now they've bought a house--probably not much more than a mile away. I'm happy for them, and I know, as Meredith predicts, we'll stay close. She says she likes Jacob and his mom and his grandmom too much to let go. But it won't be the same.
Still, I've decided I collect new friends, even extended family members, from that house--and I wait with baited breath to see who will move in next. Meredith et al probably won't be gone for another month, but then we'll see!

A bit in the doldrums

It may have been the stormy weather--and falling barometer--but I was a bit in the doldrums today. Maybe it was too much of my own company. Who knows? But I looked it up on the web--it means, as you might suspect, a period of inactivity, stagnation, listlessness. The phrase is thought to come from an archaic word dol meaning "stupid" with the suffix of "rum" as in "tantrum." Oh, good!
The doldrums has a maritime meaning--it's an area in both the Pacific and Atlantic oceans near the equator where the winds are so high in the atmosphere that the water is perfectly still--reflecting the sky. Think of "The Ancient Mariner": "As idle as a painted ship/Upon a painted sea."
That was me, hanging on a painted sea. However, I'm a firm believer that you have to get yourself out of the doldrums or you'll malinger there forever--don't think I can carrythe maritime analogy any further, though there was something about the horse latitudes. But, after retreating to my bed for a bit, I got myself together, did some chores that needed doing such as feeding the dogs, and went to dinner at the Old Neighborhood Grill. Our neighborhood evening was three ladies for most of the time and girl talk, until one husband joined us. He had just come from a church meeting, and since we all go to the same church, talk turned to church affairs. All interesting, and got me out of myself.
Tomorrow will be brighter, though I understand there are showers in the future. At least not downpours!

Dogs and feet--not my best day

My foot surgery yesterday was so painless, I thought I was home free--no pain until I got up in the middle of the night and realized it dinged at me a bit. Today, it hurts to walk--not excruciating, just annoying. Aspirin doesn't seem to help, and I don't want anything stronger.

But last night my old dog, Scooby, kept collapsing when I tried to bring him in. He had no balance, and his legs, especially the back ones, kept giving out. I had to call the pet sitter to come take him to the vet this morning. When I woke at four, I couldn't go back to sleep--sure that the vet would say to put him down. She didn't--she said give it a day or two. She did say since both the dog and I were lame, it would be best if they kept him so we didn't trip each other--a sensible notion. Sometimes these things pass, and he did seem a bit better by the time I left the clinic. Scoob is lounging in the "luxury site" at the vet's, but the report this afternoon was "no better, no worse." I bet he'd rather be home in his own bed, which he loves.  They reported that when they took him out to pee this afternoon, they rigged a sling to keep his back end upright. I'm apprehensive about this. I thought Scooby was eleven-and-a-half, but it turns out I was a  year shy--he'll be thirteen in August. I'd been railing at the gods that he should have a couple of good years left. Now I'm somewhat mollified, but I still don't want to lose him.
Scoob is a gorgeous blue merle Australian shepherd. I got him at three-and-a-half from the Humane Society. He had been abused and has never lost some characteristics of that--the sweetest dog in the world tried serously to bite the vet tech today over rectal temperature-taking. Grabbing hold of his collar scares him, and I have to keep him by me because his house manners are not reliable if I'm not watching. But he has a way of looking at me with adoration that just breaks my heart. This morning, when I was getting ready to leave the clinic, he clearly didn't want to leave my side. Made me teary. We do get so invested in our animals.
Sophie, the puppy who jumps on Scoob's rear end and doesn't help matters at all, doesn't seem to miss him as much as I thought she would. Played outside by herself quite happily for a good portion of the day and is now asleep by me.
My day got a lot better when my brother came to get me for lunch, with his wife and mother-in-law in tow. We met Cindy's sister and her significant other at Carshon's and had a high old time, mostly planning an Alter/Peckham/Azuma reunion for May. Aunt Patty is the one who has taken that particular bull by the horns and done a great job of organizing people, etc. (I'm resisting mixed metaphors or I'd talk about herding cats, which is what getting all those people to agree on a date amounts to.) Today we decided a scavenger hunt for the kids would be great fun--they will range in age from almost two to thirteen. Lots of laughter lifted me out of the doldrums, and tonight I look forward to dinner with my neighbors at the Old Neighborhood Grill.
So, bad, distrubing things, even minor pain, aside, I am blessed with family and friends and oh so grateful.

A happy halloween to all

Since I no longer have kids at home--haven't for almost twenty years--I've let Halloween go. It's not much fun to do by yourself--or that's my excuse. Some years when the Frisco girls were young I went there to see them in their costumes; some years I've turned out all the lights and hibernated; for a few years the Texas Book Festival was on Halloween, and I was in Austin. We had a wonderful time--Melinda, KK, and I gave out treats in Megan's  yard while she and B took the boys down the street. But the last couple of years, I have a new tradition, thanks to my good neighbors, Susan and Jay. They enjoy Halloween--Jay particularly likes greeting each child, commenting on his or her costume, joking with the parents. He sits on their front steps with an enormous bowl of candy at his feet and doles it out. Susan has made delicious stew both years, so I simply put the dogs up, turn out all my lights, and go next door.
Kids come to our neighborhood by the thousands (almost literally)--the sidewalks are crowded, the streets are full of parked cars and some cruising slowly. Even after dark, the steady parade continues. I saw the biggest van I've ever seen across the street tonight. It's not a particularly rich neighborhood but as Jay says it's "Halloween friendly": the houses are close together and not set too far back from the street, and the residents (except me) open up their hearts, buy tons of candy, and turn on their lights. All of the children and their parents who came up the walk tonight were exceedingly polite, full of "thank you" and "Happy Halloween." At least half the parents were in costume, and some came carrying babes in arms sound asleep--hmmm, wonder who would eat that candy? I hope not the baby. In all the constant two-hour stream, we saw only one neighbor.
At eight o 'clock, Jay and Susan ran out of candy and turned out the lights. Jay walked me home since my house was so dark. But I am grateful to them for sharing the evening with me--it's not much fun to hide in your house with the lights out. And I'm grateful for the stew--I'd been wondering what to have for supper and was definitely in need of comfort food. Susan sent a goodly serving of it home with me for supper tomorrow night.
Other than that, it was a busy day--an appoinmtment with the audiologist at 8:15. Note to self: do not make such early appointments again. Quick run to the grocery and to drop off some books; then the podiatrist and on to the pet store, where I bought the rapidly growing Miss Sophie a larger crate, this time one of the open ones. I had thought I'd have to call Jay and ask him to get it out of the car and assemble it--but I did it all myself. Quite proud, if I do say so. But it was the easiest assembly I've ever seen. Sophie went in it for the first time readily and seems to like it. I think she likes seeing the world, and now I can drop treats to her through the top. It actually will be easier to travel with than the other one. This one collapses neatly, and Sophie now rides in the car with a harness attached to a seat belt.

Day Three of the Ice Siege

Day three--and it seems to get worse. I definitely have cabin fever, and I notice some anxiety, that old friend of mine. I'm working hard on it, trying to remain positive, but I really want to get in my car and go to the grocery store. The general consensus among those who care about me is that I should not do that even tomorrow, so Christian is going to get what I need to cook for company on Saturday night (the company includes him). They don't seem to realize that I grew up in Chicago and lived in northeast Missouri, the "icebox" corner of the state, for several years. I can drive on ice, even if I'm leery of walking on it. And I'm sure the handicapped spots at the grocery are ice-free. But no one else believes that, and I am left to savor the feeling that they care about me. It's not worth a battle.
My neighbor, Meredith, came over for an hour this morning, with her three-year-old daughter, Abby. She too is feeling housebound. Abby likes to play with the toys at my house because they're different from her own, but her attention span is short and she tires of them quickly, so she went through all I had to offer in a half hour. Another neighbor, Linda, was going to go to the new Sprouts grocery this afternoon and asked if I'd like to go, which I jumped at. But she went out on another errand and lost her nerve. Then Meredith, who is very pregnant, was going to Target when Abby woke from her nap. But by then it was almost 5 and I declined, much as I want those blasted groceries.
For one thing I wanted to watch the national news at 5:30 to see what's going on in Egypt. I'm  devotee of Channel 5, so I feel like Brian Williams and Lester Holt and others are friends, and when I heard they were beating and/or detaining foreign journalists I was concerned. I can't understand why we don't just pull our journalists out of there--and the story of the 76-year-old woman who is stranded in an apartment in central Cairo is horrifying. We're watching significant history, as uprisings spring up all across that region, like a contagion. Meanwhile, if you watch the local news you'd think nothing is going on in the world except the SuperBowl.
To make the day longer, I had no email. A pipe burst in the basement of the building where tech services is housed, and the server was down all day. When I finally got into it about 8:30 tonight, I had 105 emails. Fortunately, it didn't take me long to go through them--most needed no attention or response. But I have a stack of papers to take care of by email--tomorrow.
My big accomplishment today: I followed Smashwords directions carefully and created a Table of Contents with links to the short stories in my collection, Sue Ellen Learns to Dance. Tedious work, but the instructions are clear and I am really proud that I got it done. I'll post it on Smashwords in place of the version that's now up.
Ho hum. Another day at home tomorrow. I don't know that Scooby and I can either one stand being inside that long. He loves being out but I'm afraid to leave him for very long. I've noticed that he doesn't go in his house these days as he does in the rain--he lies in the snow and looks around alertly. He seems to really enjoy it. Wish I did.

Another lemon

Just when I was getting over yesterday's disappointment about my agent dropping me, another disappointment: U-Verse's contract with Food Network has expired, and when I clicked the channel where I usually get it I got a reality show about housewives. Not what I wanted at all. I've voiced as many complaints as I could.
Tonight the new neighbors (wonder when I'll stop using that adjective) came for supper--Meredith, Brannon, and two-year-old Abby. Jacob and Abby played together, and he was really a sweet good boy with the littler child. We had a killer cassereole of beef, noodles, and lots of stuff bad for you like sour cream, cheese, and Ritz crackers soaked in melted butter--thanks to Jenn Riley of Mystery Lovers Kitchen. After they left a bit after eight I did the dishes and went to look at Jacob who was watching a Star Wars DVD--only he was sound asleep. I slipped his jeans add pants off and was about to put a diaper on when he fell off the bed and woke up in full indignation, declared he was not asleep--his eyes were open. So I put pjs on him and dispensed with all othr night-time rituals. Tucked him in and figured he'd fall asleep again watching TV. It's apparently his night for abuse, since earlier we had watched a video of the friendship between a dog and a dolphin--and I went to get the keyboard out to thank the friend who sent it and soundly whacked Jacob in the cheek with the keyboard. Lots of tears, cries for Mommy, but then he spotted a new toy in the bookcase--I'd been thinking it might be his Christmas present, but it came in handy tonight to dry those tears.
Meredith and Brannon are fun--thirty years old, which makes them forty-two years younger than me, but I thoroughly enjoy their company. And Abby is sweet, quite mature for a two-year-old. So it was a pleasant evening.
Cold out these nights--porch weather didn't last long enough.

Neighbors

Neighbors are like relatives--you don't get to choose them. But I've been as lucky with neighbors (recently) as I am with relatives. For several years I had college students living to the east--some were really nice and friendly, others were a pain. On the other side was an elderly and eccentric man who was so lonely he loved to talk. I felt most guilty that I didn't encourage him but I didn't want to take him to adopt.
Two good things happened--Jay and Susan bought the house to the west and comletely redid it. It's wonderful, and they're great neighbors. Then Sue moved in on the other side, and when I heard about it I thought, "Oh dear, a single mom with two children who will probably be noisy." Not at all. The children are a delight, and Sue became a good friend. She moved last March, and I miss her still.
But Brannon and Meredith Latimer have moved into her house with two-year-old Abby. They're expecting baby two in March and just found out it's a boy.
Meredith came over for coffee on the porch this morning--a lovely sunny morning with the temperature just right. We chatted immediately, found lots in common, and the forty-year age gap between us disappeared. We swapped stories--mine about granchildren, and hers about her child, then on to family, background, etc. An hour passed before we knew it, and it was time for her to pick up Abby. A most pleasant break in the morning, and I welcome them to the neighborhood, hope they'll stay a while.
November is Nanowrimo Month, a project that urges amateur and professional writers to put together a novel in 30 days--I didn't sign up. I don't need more pressure in my life. After all, that's why I'm retired. But today I wrote slightly over 2,000 words--if I did that every day for 30 days, I'd be darn close to a finished cozy. With my upcoming schedule, I won't get that done, but it was a good feeling, and I intend to keep after the novel now that I'm back to it. No more distractions.
Tonight was my memoir writing class. What a classy group of ladies! We laugh, we look at ourselves, we explore, and, best of all, we share. There are some hard times shared but somehow we always see the good in life. Tonight in addition to presentations, we read our exercises in telling a story in six sentences. (There's a blog where you can do that: http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/.) Lots of fun. I cheated and condensed one of my short stories into six sentences, but some of the others were really good, and one gave me the chills.  The beginning of a good mystery short story.
I am so grateful for all these different threads in my life. They tie together well, but I have the feeling I'll be harried and hurried from now through Christmas.

Traumas, major and minor

We have suvived all kinds of traumas, major and minor. On Wednesday it was floods and possible tornadoes. I spent an hour watching firemen rescue people from an apt. complex roof in Arlington--a creek had suddenly burst its banks. And there was flooding all ovr the state in the path of--was it Hermione? Megan had a friend who drove into a low-water crossing before he saw the water but luckily escaped. Then that night I spent an hour texting with Melanie in Frisco because it looked like a tornado was headed their way--Jamie was at his office in Addison and she told him to stay there. I think the storm--no tornado but lots of wind and rain--passed between them. A good friend lives in a sixth-floor condo in Dallas where another tornado looked headed. I asked if she went to the basement but she said she stood in the window and watched it. Her opinion was that it was a lot more exciting on TV than what she saw. Tells you something about media, doesn't it? A good two hours of media time was devoted to the storms.
On the home front, the cat got locked in the closet that is her new hiding spot. Socorro, who keeps my house as clean as she can, didn't realize it was in there and closed the door tight. I finally missed her and noticed the closed door. Then yesterday morning when I went to let Scooby out, there was a dead possum at the foot of the stairs to the back yard.. My first instinct was to call neighbor Jay but I figured by the time he got here, Scooby's bladder would have given way. So I used the pooper-scooper to throw the poor critter over the fence into the drivewy, where today Greg, who does the lawn, kindly disposed of it for me. No, it was not playing possum--it was dead, for sure!
My food book proceeds, and today I plowed through the Best Maid Products (best known for pickles) Web page and got enough information to write up a descriptive history. Like many Texas foods it began as a home project--a Mrs. Dalton who made and sold meringue pies and didn't know what to do with all those leftover egg yolks. So she made mayonnaise. I love the creative use of leftovers! I think this is the last major entry before I send the draft off to the probable publisher.
I'm relieved that the publicity-seeking "reverend" in Florida has decided not to burn the Koran, but I still hope tomorrow will be peaceful. I thought President Obama did a good job today of handling the subject and the whole anti-Muslim feeling that has suddenly burst upon us with such ferocity. I saw on TV tonight a bit about a man who lost his son that day and is crusading to educate young adults--too young at the time to remember or understand--about the life-changing day and its impact on America. A much more reasonable way to remember the victims than burning the Koran.
Yay! The house next door to me will be occupied as of tomorrow. The landlady has rented, after nine months of trying to sell, to a young patent attorney, his wife who is expecting, and their two-year-old daughter. Sounds like good neighbors. Not having neighbors is sort of akin to being marooned on an island.

Planning a menu--and a happy grandmother's picture

Ignore the goofy grin. This is very much a proud grandmother photo. I'm wearing the T-shirt that Morgan and Kegan made for me, with a little help from their mom. Susan took this tonight when she and Jay came for supper.

I'm convinced more than ever that successful entertaining depends less on your ability as a cook than on  your ability to plan a menu. Tonight we had a cold supper, perfect for a warm day like today (101, with heat index of 108). My mom used to chill a can of salmon and serve it on a platter with cucumber, mayonnaise, and I forget what all. I've talked before about the Pisces tuna I order from a cannery in Oregon. Recently I also got six cans of salmon, and we tried it tonight. I fixed a platter of deviled eggs, cherub tomatoes, cucumbers, asparagus and salmon, and served it with a vinaigrette, mayonnaise, and lemon. None of us used anything but the lemon, and the salmon was delicious.

I also made the County Line potato salad that I loved so much at the party last weekend. It was great and Jay, who never will take home leftovers, took a huge helping of potato salad--he had some cockamanny argument that it wasn't leftovers because it hadn't been cooked and wouldn't have to be reheated. Look up the recipe online, because it's all over the place. I learned something while making it. Back to Mom's cooking again, but she learned years and years ago from the Italian cook at the hospital where Dad worked that you should peel and cube the potatoes while hot and pour vinaigrette over them. Let that soak in and cool before adding mayonnaise, mustard, onion, celery, whatever. The directions for County Line potato salad call for boiling the potatoes in their skins and refrigerating them for half an hour. I refrigerated them overnight, and oh my goodness, they were so much easier to peel and dice. You make the sauce, including onion and celery, in a separate bowl and then add the potatoes. For once, I followed the recipe to the letter, and it was delicious if I do say so. I could have eaten two helpings again but I was aware of the sour cream and mayo, even if both were "light."

Usually I don't fix dessert, but last week I wrote about Blue Bell ice cream, so I had to buy some. I bought peppermint/chocolate and served it with a mint chocolate sauce I had in the fridge. All three of us licked our bowls clean.

My point about planning: the cold platter, potato salad, and ice cream went together so well and made a perfect meal for a hot summer night. And as Susan said, conversation was as lively as always. We had a good time.

Nor did I lounge away the day. I wrote almost 800 words on my novel and feel I'm back into it. A busy week ahead, but I intend to keep writing. There's a challenge on a mystery blog to write one page a day before you ever turn to the internet. Good idea, but not one I find myself following. But I'm going to write a page--or more--every day.

As I walked out on the porch tonight when Jay and Susan were leaving, I said to think that in a month we'll be having cocktails and maybe dinner on the porch. We all sighed. This 100+ heat seems endless. We've been encouraged with the promise of scattered showers, but I'll tell you how scattered they've been: yesterday morning when I went to the store the streets were dry, but when I got  six blocks away they were wet with large puddles indicating a good-sized rain. So frustrating!

Front porches

Until the mid- or late-twentieth century, people sat on their front porches. Neighbors visited, they howdied the people who walked by with strollers and dogs, and it was all very friendly. Then came the era of the patios and six-foot privacy fences. People moved into their back yards, cut off from the neighbors. And it's hard to be neighborly over a six-foot fence. As people who read this blog know, my 1922 house has a commodious front porch, and this year I've worked hard at making it green and lush with herbs, hanging baskets, a prolific plumbago, sweet potato vines, and impatiens. It's a lovely place to sit in the evening and watch the world go by. My writing class prefers to meet on the porch, even when it's a bit hot, and I often sit out there at night reading.
Tonight my porch was host to what porches were meant for--a gathering of neighbors.  Sue, my former neighbor, came back for a visit, and the rest of us gathered--Jay and Susan, Greg and Jaimie, Jordan, Christian and Jacob. It was BYOB, pot luck--and we had great food--I made bourbon hot dogs (some of which got scorched and had to be thrown out because I blithely walked away and left them to simmer, got involved at my desk, and didn't stir them--when will I learn about electric stoves, which I hate?; as punishment, I had one heck of a time cleaning that pan). But I also offered a cheeseball, toasted baguettes, and brownies left from last night's class; Jay brought hummus and pita pieces, Jaimie contributed a black-eyed pea salsa, and Sue brought a dish I never did get to taste, so I can't tell what it was. We gathered around the table, eating standing up for a while, until I convinced Jaimie that she and I should lead the way to the porch. Everyone followed. Jacob is sometimes shy in the company of adults, but these were people he knew and he was charming and outgoing.
We visited, we argued (discussed?) politics, we talked about food and the weather and the BP oil disaster and upcoming summer birthdays and what have you, but it was relaxed, fun, and really not too hot. Most of all it was pleasant to know that I was among good friends, that we all care a lot about each other.
The rest of the day was good too--got my new keyboard, though I haven't yet worked up the gumption to install it. Went to lunch with my old and dear friend, Jim, and we had a good time, though we joined someone we met at the restaurant, so as Jim said, we didn't get to tell secrets. Still it was good to catch up with him. And this afternoon I worked on updating my web page--not a lot to update, but I like to change the recipe page and wish I did it more often. I'll post when the changes are up and, big deal, I changed one sentence on the home page--but it's now accurate to say I have two mysteries with an agent and am about a third into a new one different characters, etc.
So, as I often end posts, life is good.

A funny day

Tonight Betty and I went to Sapristi's for dinner and had our favorite--the tapas platter for two. It had  spicy quail with a something-tomato sauce (not spicy and absolutely delicious), beef skewers, bacon-wrapped scallops, feta bruschetta, and a tart with peppers and onions. Since I hadn't been out of the house in three days I felt downrightcelebratory. I had a chocolate mousse dessert and reveled in stories of Betty's trip to Paris and Germany (which she loved, though it was rainy and cold most of the time). We had a good visit,and I was so glad to be out in the world. After I got home I called Jay and Susan to come get the strawberries I had left over from the weekend, and we had a visit on the porch, so I feel I've had some sociability for the evening.
Day three of my new life didn't go as well as the previous two. I piddled and did small things to pass the time, although not all of them were useless. Doing yoga on a floor mat in the family room can sure make you realize that you haven't vacummed since the grandkids were here, so I vacummed, scrubbed up the sticky tape from the living room floor (it used to anchor the rug but was now just a sticky mess), showered, read a bit, played on the web, but put off working. Finally in the afternoon I wrote 1,000 words on my mystery and felt pretty good about them. I had a couple of scenes in my head that had to be written, so I finished one partially--still have to complete it and move on to the next. But I'm feeling optimistic. And since I finished reading the mystery that had me riveted, maybe I'll be more likely to concentrate on writing. Anyway, I'm hopeful. I think my new life will take some adjusting. But I'm working at it with a cheerful heart.