Snippets of a happy holiday

The calendar is really getting down to the deadline—it’s the 22^nd already. Have you done all your Christmas shopping? I have been parceling out packages for days and think I have most distributed, except for my brother who lives an hour away—too close to mail, too fair to drive. We’ll have an extended Christmas after I get back from Tomball.

Tomorrow Colin, my oldest, will come from Tomball to pick me up and then we’ll go to Jamie’s office in North Dallas/Plano/somewhere along I-35 for a foosball table—I am beginning to wonder which is more important to Colin: me or the foosball table. That’s not really fair, because he has told me he likes being the kid who gets responsibility for me on the off years for Alter Christmases. And I’m looking forward to time in Tomball, especially time with the two grandchildren there—Morgan and Kegan. And some writing time—yeah, of course I’m taking my computer.

My days have been a happy mess of Christmas things—a grocery store trip on which I already felt the need to deal with the ham and black-eyed pea menu for New Year’s. Jordan responded that they are having friends in to watch whatever bowl game and she’s serving sausage balls which are a lot cheaper. I thought she missed the point. Then she said, “IF you want a ham, go ahead and get one.” Then I knew she’d really missed the point. Who gets a ham for one person?

Lunch yesterday with a friend I don’t see often enough. We had so much to talk about—the business of writing, whether or not you can write to someone’s textbook plan or just have to let it flow, grandsons. I mean we really chattered, and I loved it.

Then happy hour with an old and dear friend, talking about Christmas plans and gossiping about people we knew in our previous existence—like me, she is the ex-wife of an osteopathic physician and now, both our husbands are dead. But we have a lot of memories in common and a lot of old friends.

Tonight, I went to a cocktail party at the home of my Canadian daughter—her parents, dear friends, were there. Often, I miss them at Christmas because I travel just when they are here, so tonight it was a joy to visit with both of them. Lovely party, delicious food, plentiful wine—but so noisy I couldn’t really have a conversation with anyone, even with my new hearing aids.

Today I’ve been packing and organizing—Sophie will go with me to Tomball tomorrow, and you’d be amazed at what it takes to pack for a dog—food, probiotics, Benedryl, fake cheese slices, chew treats, her very own dog bowl. That done, I packed some things for me and have a really organized list of what needs to be packed tomorrow, plus another list of what needs to come out of the freezer and refrigerator at the last minute. Sometimes I scare myself because I’m so organized.

As we head into the holy season, I feel optimistic. I think our long national ordeal is coming to an end—the death throes may bring increased pain, fear, panic, and financial instability, but I believe as a country we’ll rise above it and restore our democracy. I am well aware that calling this the holy season leaves out Hanukah, Kwanza, and other religions which mark the winter solstice, and I don’t mean to be exclusionary. I simply approach the season—and the nation’s problems—from my own Christian perspective.

So holiday blessings on all of you, no matter what or how you celebrate. It’s the love in our hearts that matters much more than the shape of our faith. Be happy, my friends.

Social grace--and the art of hostessing

I'm pleased to report that I've raised four children with social graces but tonight I have just one of them in mind. In the summer, Jordan and Christian open theier home for a potluck supper every Friday--or sometimes every other Friday. Tonight was the first one of this season. Their friends bring their children, along with favorite dishes. Kids play outside and have a wild time, then melt in front of the TV, while adults mingle and visit and catch-up. When I left tonight, there was a gin rummy game going at the kitchen table.
Jordan chooses a theme for every party--often it's Mexican food, but tonight it was appetizers, so we had tamales, quesadillas, veggies, two kinds of hummus, tuna salad. It's BYOB.
Jordan is one of the most gracious people I know. Once a friend said to me, "Jordan makes you feel like she's been waiting all day to see you." It's an art, and I'm so happy for her. She enjoys her own parties, and I am grateful to be included with all the young people. (Omigosh, they're all approaching their forties, so not so young any more.) But still I am greeted with hugs and warm affection that is genuine, and I'm included in the conversations
My children grew up in a household that was often filled with people. I entertained a lot--still do--and I'm pleased to see Jordan carry on the tradition.
And darn! Why didn't I think to take a picture of two!

Falling off the wagon

I fell off both the diet and wine wagons yesterday, and I've been analyzing the reasons. One is that I bought some homemade toffee that is so delicious--but so high in Weight Watchers points. Still, it calls to me every time I go through the kitchen. And I keep thinking a half ounce doesn't matter. But those half ounces add up. Then I made some potato salad that I absolutely love. I use the County Line barbecue restaurant (Austin and San Antonio) recipe, with lots of pickle relish. I made this because Jordan requested potato salad and chicken salad for lunch Sunday. I made both yesterday, and if the toffee calls to me, the potato salad literally shouts. It is, I warned Jordan tonight, robust to say the least--I think I overdid the pepper a bit. But those two things, toffee and potato salad, have not helped at all, plus Weight Watchers has changed their point system. You get more points a day, but foods cost you more--I haven't adjusted, and last night I ws ten points over my daily quota. Yep, this morning I was a pound heavier.
My horoscope today said something to the effect that I shouldn't take a initial encounter too seriously and rush into passion. Friendship before love. I think it meant the potato salad.
The wine wagon is a different thing. I've discovered that my wine consumption goes up with the disruption of my schedule. Terrible to be a person who lives by a schedule of meals, but I like something small shortly after I get up, lunch around noon, and dinner around six. Last night, with the autograph extravaganza, I knew it would be after eight before I had supper. So I ate a banana before I went, then snacked on cheese (oh, so many points) and had two glasses of wine--adding up all those points because I really wanted a meal.
So today I resolved to stick to my points in food and my personal wine limit. So far so good, and it's nearly ten o'clock.
Jordan and I went to a party tonight with wonderful, lavish food. I bypassed the sliders and brie sandwiches and ate salmon, chicken, and veggies--delicious and almost no points. This was a party that I always enjoy but rarely go to--because of a staircase. I've known the hostess all her life--she's the daughter of a longtime friend. She and her husband live in an older, lovely home, but the only access is up a fairly long set of steps between the sides of the driveway. Nothing to hold on to. In a couple of other years,  my friend and her husband parked in the driveway next door and we crept across the lawn, but tonight Jordan said we were doing the stairs. And we did--piece of cake. Saw several people I know and was glad to see, ate that good food, had a glass of wine. When we left I had a full escort  down the stairs--Jordan walked in front of me, the husband of another young woman I've known all her life walked beside me and held my hand, and our hostess walked on the other side. I felt a little silly. I would have been fine with just holding on to Chad's hand. And I could have walked on the slanted driveway pavement too. It was fun to go to a bright holiday party.
I came home to wait for Jacob who arrived at nine to spend the night. He stayed up extra late but was giggly and happy and is now talking himself to sleep.

Post-party recovery

The other day we ate Sunday breakfast at Ol' South Pancake House, a local institution that Jamie particularly loves. I was reminded of Jordan's wedding day when we ate there. The waitress found out that Jordan would be married that evening and arrived with a single pancake topped with whipped cream and strawberries and a lone candle. As she presented it, she sang, "The party's over . . . ." That's how I feel. The party's over, but the glow lingers on. And for me, my birthday continued through yesterday--the actual day--when the office gang took me to Cafe Aspen, the same favorite place Jordan and I ate Monday. And last night, Jeannie, Betty and I celebrated at Lanny's Alta Cocina, an upscale (to put it mildly) Mexican restaurant--haute cuisine from the amuse bouche to the chocolate whatever that came as the birthday dessert. Betty and I shared rack of lamb, and it was absolutelly delicious.
But I am getting back to work. At the office I've been busy catching up on details and dealing with a load of acquisitions--rejecting some, considering some at length, and asking, so far, for two complete manuscripts and a formal proposal.
At home I've gotten things done too, but it gnaws at me that I'm not back to the mystery. The Guppies listserv (Going to be Published) has been full of peole offering their writing schedules and how to avoid distractions. It makes me realize my schedule is very haphazard most of the time, unless I'm burning with an idea. I wonder if I'm committed enough to the project to really make it happen. On the other hand, if I have a chance to play with grandchildren or have dinner with friends, I hate to pass up the opportunity. Part of my philosophy these days is "Carpe diem!" In that mood, I fixed dinner for Jordan and Jacob tonight--Jacob was in a sweet affectionate mood (grab it while you can!) but he'd had a rough day. Another kid bit him, hard enough to break the skin. He didn't want to talk about it and wouldn't let his mom look at it (I imagine she will at bath time tonight).
Julia Spencer-Fleming is part of my problem, part of the reason I'm not writing (I hope she has one of those services that alerts her every time her name or books are mentioned anywhere on the web). I read the first two of her Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne mysteries about a month ago and really got wrapped up in them. Then a friend brought me not one but three more, and I've almost been unable to tear myself away for constructive work. Tonight I must polish a column and get it off and respond to a request for a partial manuscript from a publisher--I should be more excited, but all I can think is I want to read tonight. Spencer-Fleming has constructed a wonderful fictional world, and she tells compelling stories. Wish I could write like that.
Excuse me. I'm getting to work.

The Rude Hostess and Other Tales of a Busy Weekend

I was too tired to do much last night but scramble through some emails and fall in bed. About 9:00 I sent my dinner guests home, for which I still have a guilty conscience, because they looked like they would be content to sit on the porch all night. I think maybe they went to Sue's patio. They are younger and can drink more wine than I can. I hosted a potluck for the neighbors on either side, and we ate royally. I made a spinach/cheese/Rotel dip but Jay couldn't resist bringing avocado-stuffed smoked salmon rolls (I ate too many and spoiled my dinner). Julia brought bruschetta with a cucumber sauce and a tomato topping, and, for dinner, she made pesto pasta with artichoke hearts (except for the appetizers, it was an Italian menu). Jay's entree was veal meatballs, stuffed with fontina, in a chunky, light but absolutely delicious red sauce--I've asked for the recipe and am prepared to beg if necessary. Jordan made her Greek salad, which is always wonderful. Julia brought tiramisu for dessert, but by then the only ones who could eat it were herself and Jay. Jacob said no to everything we tried to offer him. So here's Jay, trying to encourage Jacob to eat, and here are the rest of them at the table. Fun evening, and I am so grateful to have such warm-hearted neighbors.

Yesterday afternoon, four of us did a program on Grace & Gumption at my church and were enthusiastically received by about 70 women, twenty of whom bought books--a good record. We didn't have books, so as the others spoke I raced to the office and got books only to remember that on Friday I had stashed some in the mail room at the church--but not enough so my speed trip was worthwhile.

And before all that, in the morning, I scrubbed the porch--company, you know!, made my dip, made a bison meatloaf, taking great liberties with the recipe. Jeannie cautioned against the dryness of bison, so at her suggestion I added a quarter lb. ground sirloin. But the recipe had a half pound chopped musrooms, which I'm sure kept it moist, and I added the leftover half can of Rotel (from the cheese dip) in place of the tomato sauce and then added a half a small can of tomato sauce. By then I was afraid I had it too moist and used my mom's old trick of throwing in some instant tapioca. I'll take half the meatloaf, with mashed potatoes and aspargus to Jeannie and Jim Wednesday and feed the rest to Jordan and Christian if they want it. Christian has started a new job--praise be--and is now waiting tables only on weekends, so he's around for supper some and I'll get to see more of him.

The ladies of G&G, as we refer to the book, have become a small community, and we've demonstrated it lately as a support groups for two women whose the husbands were ill with life-threatening conditions. The first was Katie's husband, Gayland, who spent four weeks in the hospital, first for a bypass and then following emergency surgery for a bleeding ulcer. He's doing well. Now, Ruth K.'s husband is in the hospital with acute leukemia and was nearly gone a week ago but has rallied to the point that they're again talking about getting him well enough for stem cell therapy. Susan, Ruth, Katie and I had lunch today, and Katie and Ruth were able to share each other's experiences. Ruth had some hair-raising medical stories to tell, but she said to us, "Who knew when we thought of this book that you all would turn out to be my main support system?" Funny how life works. I feel like I know three "miracle men" now--Gayland, Ruth's Armin, and of course Jeannie's Jim.

Jacob is pictured and discussed often in this blog, because he's the child I see most often (once a week or better), but the others are just as cute. Here's my youngest grandson, Kegan, helping himself to a drink of water. His mother said in the email with the picture, "So self-sufficient and gets his own drinks." I wrote back and asked if she meant Kegan or his father, and she said she's still working on Colin. She meant Kegan.

More busy days ahead.