Politics, Politicians, and Pollyanna

My son Jamie shared a couple of You-Tube videos from the show "Newsroom" with me this morning, and we got into an interesting discussion of what's broken in America. Conclusion? The system. One clip showed a young girl asking why America is the greatest country in the world. The show star's long answer boiled down to "It's not the greatest country in the world, but it was and it could be again."
Set me thinking about politicians today. I guess I'm Pollyanna, but in an ideal world I think they would run for office because they wanted to be public servants. Therefore, they would put the public good ahead of their own success (that's sort of what I think physicians should do too, and I think maybe since the day of doctors earning big bucks seems to be passing, that sort of change is happening in medicine). But back to politics--let me use Texas Senator John Cornyn as an example, though I know it happens on both sides of the aisle (I may be Pollyanna, but I'm not that stupid!). Cornyn seemed a reasonable fellow when he was in office in Texas, but when he got to Congress, he lost any individual opinion, always voting the party line. Recently I read that he's moving closer to the extreme right wing because he's worried about his re-election. Therein lies my problem--the only reason I can see for becoming more conservative is that you really embrace those core beliefs. If you don't believe it, how can you say it?
I was also horrified to read that Speaker John Boehner publicly said he rejected the President's latest budget without reading it. To me that speaks of a deep bias against the President and not at all of a willingness to work together, to compromise for the sake of the common good--and all those people who are hurting because of the sequester.
I know a few politicians, past and present, who I think really had or have the public good in mind. Senator Ted Kennedy was one; Texas Representative Lon Burnam is another, though Lord knows he faces an uphill battle in the Texas House. I like to think U.S. Representative Marc Veasey is another, but I only know about him through my daughter and her husband. Secretary of Defense Chuck Hagel seems to be another. Can't make my mind up about Ron Paul--he had some good ideas but a lot that were pretty wild.
Jamie and I came to no conclusions because there is no simple fix. Term limits sound reasonable, to me, because they would keep legislators from getting too entrenched, but Jamie pointed out you'd have too many people who don't know what they're doing. We have one example of an out-of-control freshman legislator from Texas who may prove his point.
Maybe, as Medicare and Obama care have done with physicians, we should stop rewarding legislators so handsomely and making it so expensive to run that only the wealthy can afford to try. As we careen toward an oligarchy, maybe we should think about that.

Cookbook, a political rant, and sushi

You never know what day will turn out to be exciting. This morning I thought the day ahead looked fairly dull, except for dinner with Betty, but email brought the page proofs and cover of my cookbook/memoir, Cooking My Way through Life with Kids and Books. I couldn't get it to upload tonight, but the cover features Jacob's school photo in which, for some reason, they dressed him in a tocque and chef's jacket, and put a whisk and wooden spoon in his hand. He has an uncharacteristically solemn expression, but it's a wonderful photo. When the editor told me the designer wanted to use it, I said my youngest daughter would be thrilled and the rest of my kids would be pissed. Jamie has written, "Don't talk to me," and Brandon wrote, "Ah, well. Life is never easy. We'll have to sit Sawyer and Ford down and explain to them that their grandmother loves another grandson better." I told him I'd hit him upside the head if he did that.
Reading the page proofs is fun, although I am notoriously poor as a proofreader, but I'm trying to be careful. I guess one trouble is I've read this stuff soooo many times. Still sounds good to me, though, and I'm excited about having the book in print. The press that is publishing it operates under a historical grant and told me quite some time ago everything they publish has to have an historical slant. I told them I'm old enough that some of my recipes are history.
I know this is not a political blog, although sometimes my opinons creep in, like my exhaltation on inauguration day. But tonight I really want to rant about Texas' own Senator John Cornyn. He's always distressed me, because he votes the party line without question, and I think that fake ad of him in a cow pasture was ridiculous. But someone really needs to tell him that Bush is no longer president and the Republicans aren't in power. First he held up Hillary Clinton's nomination because of concerns about Bill Clinton's foundation, concerns which the Obama people had worked out some time ago. Now he's holding up Eric Holder's nomination as attorney general for fear Holder will prosecute some of the Bush administration who sanctioned torture. If I'm not mistaken, justice is a big part of the American way. If those people broke laws (and the Geneva Convention) with their atrocious interrogation methods, they must stand by what they did. I think Cornyn is trying to engage in payback politics, and he's going to lose face--and maybe his next election. We can only hope. It's always frustrating to me to live in Texas when I was urged to write my senators on matters of liberal concern. It's like writing to a stone, and when I did get an answer, it spouted the party line.
Meantime, I applaud President Obama for the speed with which he's moved, especially toward transparency of government. It can't all be done in one day or two, but he sure has moved ahead in rapid and reassuring ways. For the Obama girls' sake, I hope the media gets over fascination with them, so they can lead normal lives. They are adorable.
I've had other frustrations--today I had a list of people to call about business matters--the mail-order pharmacy, TIAA-CREF about my minimum withdrawal distribution (which I didn't realize I don't have to do this year), Citicard about the time I paid double and what happened to the money, my accountant. Inauguration day, when my lunch guests left and I settled down at my desk to work and watch TV, the TV wouldn't work--thank goodness, one quick call to AT&T solved that. And then last night when I decided to allow myself a few minutes of relaxation reading, my Kindle wouldn't turn pages--once again, I'm grateful for instant tech support. It was easily fixed, and I was soon happily reading. But many of my calls involved navigating automated phone systems, which are really awful, especially when you follow directions, punch in this, that, and the other, only to be told, "Our offices are presently closed."
But all my frustrations disolved in soy with wasabi tonight. Betty and I went to our favorite sushi place, and I had something called the Russian--white tuna, California roll, smoked salmon, and topped with just a dab of caviar (I actually couldn't taste the caviar). Me, who can't eat spicy southwestern food, can take a good bit of wasabi in my soy sauce--I love it. Betty had something with shrimp in it and declared it the best she'd ever had. It had a spicy red sauce, so I couldn't have eaten it for two reasons--shrimp (to which I'm allergic) and spice.
Back to proofreading my own recipes.

Mostly cooking

Marcia from El Paso claims she's missing her Judy's Stew fix because I haven't blogged enough lately, and I replied that I didn't think I had much to say except trivia. But I promised to post something tonight, so this is mostly a cooking blog. Last night I had lovely dinner guests--two couples fairly far apart in age but most compatible in spirit, and talk ranged from a scholarly interest in the history of comic books to the art of collecting to politics--we are all of the same mind but the discussion still got lively. And we ended the evening recounting a series of cooking failures (I hope that was not a reflection on my dinner).
I served a recipe I've looked at in my "appalling collection" for years and never tried--and of course I didn't read it carefully enough so I goofed several times. It was roast pork loin stuffed with an apricot mixture: I gleefully bought pork tenderloins, came home and read the recipe again, and that was not at all what was meant--it called for a loin roast. I figured I just wouldn't cook them as long. Then I forgot the part about divided use in the molasses and probably put too much in the stuffing, though it was pretty good. Then I didn't read carefully enough to realize that you were supposed to pour chicken broth and bourbon over the meat, roast it, and then add cream to the pan drippings. I added it at the beginning. But what was really cool was that I cooked that mixture--broth, bourbon, and cream--and then flamed it without burning myself. And I was amazed at how long it flamed merrily away. The accompanying recipe was for "Thunderbolt Mashed Potatoes"--seasoned with corn, cumin, chili powder. They were good but I made them the day before and didn't think I got them hot enough for dinner. To my mind the best was the apple crisp for dessert, but my oh my! it had a lot of butter, and I served it with real whipped cream. One of the guests, a man, looked at me and said, "Is this the real thing?" And his wife said, "It's better for you than the other kind." He ate two helpings.
Alas and alack, this morning I could barely button a favorite pair of pants, so I'm off bread, potatoes, etc., had a vinaigrette salad dressing tonight instead of that wonderful mayo/sourcream/blue cheese one I've recently invented, and limited my chocolate intake this afternoon.
Tonight I fixed spicy chicken fingers. Megan called, and I asked if she remembered them, and she did. You dust chicken tenders in flour mixed with salt, pepper and oregano, brown them in butter and olive oil, and then add diced Roma tomatoes, diced basil, garlic and lime juice. Such fun to pick the fresh basil, but I never use my fresh thyme--it's too strong.
No much else new. Everyone in the neighborhood is losing their political signs--but it's bipartisan. Both Obama and McCain signs are being stolen. I wonder if its a teenage prank or people with serious political beliefs and a distorted sense of American freedom of expression. They left the signs in my yard for a state senator and a state representative, just took the Obama one.
I started a British Victorian mystery over the weekend. I have to be careful about identifying titles or authors, because many of those authors I've now "met" through the Sisters in Crime network. But I seriously considered putting this one down several times. I persevered, however, and now I'm drawn into it. I decided maybe that's a huge difference between British and American cozies--in American cozies there's usually a body in the first chapter; in British ones, it takes you a long time to get drawn into the story. It may be too that I prefer to read about people I can identify with--contemporaries. I read a blurb recently for a mystery set in churches in Rome, but the protagonist was an American journalist, and I thought I'd really like to read that book. Like many that I read about on the Agent Quest listserv, it's unpublished now. I found one author has a series of Travel Agent Mysteries, so since Jordan is a travel agent I rushed to amazon--no luck. And then I realized that author, like me, is unpublished. I am working away though--and finishing that Victorian mystery.
Huge author's program tomorrow night--at least 500 tickets out, maybe more, for a venue that seats 450. It will be an interesting and long evening. Don't be surprised if I don't blog. Sorry, Marcia.

A yoga day

Today was a yoga day but also a tired one, for no known reason. I went to Central Market fairly early but felt like I was just plodding my way through the store. Just after I got the groceries put up, Elizabeth arrived for a yoga lesson, and I told her I was having a tired day. But she boosted my spirits greatly when she said she could tell I was stronger and more flexible than when I started yoga. She asked if could tell, and in a way I can--there are poses I can do know that I couldn't before, but in a way I can't tell because I can't see or feel the day to day slow changes. Its like yesterday when the lovely lady that cuts my hair asked if I was getting a lot of comments on how much longer it is, and I said I wasn't. I think it's because people see me every day. Anyway, yoga invigorated me, but then this evening when I stood in the kitchen cooking for an hour, my low back forced me to sit every once in a while--and that made me tired. I made mashed potatoes for tomorrow night's company dinner and discovered that I bought the wrong cut of meat for the recipe I'm using--instead of a pork loin roast, I bought pork tenderloins. Bet I can improvise. But more about that menu tomorrow, because it really is a good one. Tonight I stir-fried some veggies that were in the fridge--asparation (which I'd never heard of--I thought I was buying broccolini), onion, zucchini, and some fresh mushrooms, then added bay scallops. Sooo good.
I sat outside to read for a bit tonight before the dark that comes way too early these days. It was so still that it was almost eerie--not a breath of wind anywhere.
Back to revising my mystery--maybe revising is a way of avoiding writing new text. I have to stay up late enough tonight to watch Sarah Palin and Tina Fey on Saturday Night Live. Whatever else Governor Palin has done, she has certainly brought new life to SNL. I read a letter to the editor that made me laugh the other day: a reader wrote that he or she would never vote for Palin to be a heartbeat away from the presidency, because she doesn't use correct grammar. It seems that before the vice-presidential debate, she approached Senator Biden and said "Can I call you Joe?" whereas any grammarian knows she should have said, "May I call you Joe?" I can think of a lot of reasons I don't want her a heartbeat from the presidency but that small grammatical slip is not one of them. If you were watching, she did call him "Joe," and he addressed her as "Governor."

Not much

I didn't blog yesterday, so I tried hard to think of something significant to write about tonight. But it's not there, unless I want to delve into the deep subject of presidential politics. I'm sitting here watching the debate, trying to pay attention to every word, trying hard to undestand, which is particularly hard for me on the economy, but pretty clear on the subject of let's meet with enemies before we decide to attack. Negotiation should always precede hostility . . . but there I go, talking about politics. I clearly have an opinion, especially about Senator McCain's waffling about the debate and injecting himself into economic negotations in Congress. After he got there, things that were almost worked out went haywire. Oh, well, Sarah Palin knows international relations because both of the countries that border her state are foreign countries. Duh?
The shortening days are causing me a problem. For years I've prided myself on never setting an alarm because I always get up on time. Somehow this year, with the darker mornings, I'm oversleeping. This morning I was astounded that it was 20 minutes past time for me to get up when I glanced at the clock, expecting to have another 30 minutes to doze. I have an employee who oversleeps a lot, so I feel bound to set an example. No way I was going to call in and say I overslept. I rushed around and got there on time but I didn't finish reading this morning's paper until 2:30 this afternoon.
Last night I sent off the complicated proposal that I've been working on, so today I've mostly on office stuff--reading a new chapter in a book in progress that came in by email, proofing pages of a small book that came from the designer yesterday. Tomorrow I'll get back to my own work. I did pick up a novel about home repair--sort of the same thing as my realtor/renovation series, and I was interested to make a distinction in my mind. The narrator and her sidekick are too wacky. Maybe what I want to say is the book is "too" cozy. I like my heroine better because she's serious about her work, about the skeletons and bodies she finds--yeah, she's a bit klutzy, but it's not the predominant characteristic about her.
I've been cleaning bookshelves, though I have a long way to go. But I have called the Friends of the Library bookstore and they say they'll send someone to get the hardbacks I have sorted out. I've also sorted paperbacks (mysteries--I have a whole lot of them!) and my friend Mary Lu is coming Sunday to look at them, make sure none are hers and none are ones she hasn't read and wants to. The remainder will get sold at Jordan's yard sale (in my front yard--a whole different subject) next weekend.

Blogging to figure things out

Someone asked me once why I blog, and I answered that it made me write something almost every day (except that I haven't posted in two days). But I think that's the truth of it, but I also think I have always figured things out in writing. It used to drive my ex-husband crazy that I didn't argue--I wrote notes. I figured he could yell louder than I could, and arguing was futile.
So today I'm trying to figure out revision of my mystery. The rejection mentioned earlier said a real estate agent had no spark, no appeal. So I rewrote my query letter and really punched it up, making Kelly, my protagonist, a character who stumbles over skeletons and bodies, serial killers and cold-blooded murderers. A TCU Press author who reads the blog sent an opening sentence from El Paso that sounds pretty good: Kelly Jones always thought real estate was pretty safe until . . . So having rewritten the query, I set about "punching up" the manuscript itself, adding more free-spiritedness to Kelly. But as I tried to do that, I found I really like Kelly the way she is. She's realistic about who she is and who she isn't and she can be clever, but she's not a rebel against society--she has those two daughters to whom she's devoted. In short, she's a real person in my mind--she has taken on life. A lot of the advice I got from Sister in Crime sisters over this had to do with what write you want and believe in, and so though I'll continue through the first manuscript and then start querying again, I doubt I'll change much. I did work in a craving on Kelly's part for chocolate bars with ground peanuts and jalopenos--my current chocolate addiction. And I think I might work in Fort Worth's "Cowtown" image in the public and its contrast to ordinary life in our neighborhoods. But I don't think I'll change much. If, praise be, an editor gets hold of it someday and wants changes, that's another matter. Meantime I'm confident about what I've written.
There was a huge private signing party for one of our authors last night. The book, Dancing Naked: Unforgettable Encounters with Memorable Texans, is a collection of columns the author, Mary Rogers, published in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram over a period of years. There were well over 200 people at the reception, and our bookstore sold 176 books--terrific for one evening. My job was to ask people to write on post-its how they wanted the book personalized, and several said, 'Oh, Mary knows me." I tried to explain that in a long signing line, an author can forget her own children's names. Worked most of the time but Mary confessed she was stymied by one person, and her brain only kicked in at the last second. The hostess created a lovely affair with elegant, low-key refreshments--I was fascinated by how many people chose lemonade over wine. All in all, it was elegant and fun.
The food part of my blog tonight even involves some figuring out: I have been craving things that aren't good for you lately. No more the lean piece of meat and the green vegetable. Today I had two Hebrew National hot dogs with kraut for lunch, and though I was tempted by the idea of a baked potato topped with chili, cheese, and sour cream for dinner, I refrained in favor of pan frying some Dover sole I had in the freezer and topping it with lemon butter sauce. I've finally learned to cook it at medium and not hot, and it came out browned nicely, just a tad crunchy. When I defrosted it I thought it smelled fishy even though it was vacuum packed, but it tasted great. I baked a half tomato topped with bread crumbs and blue cheese and steamed some green beans. I steamed a whole mess of beans earlier this week but not long enough--they were really al dente, more than is pleasant. Better tonight. I have a mystery in my kitchen--I've lost the top to the steamer I've had for 30 years or more. I used it earlier in the week, put all the parts of the steamer in the drain basket but I cannot find the lid anywhere. I keep thinking it will show up in some weird place, but I've looked all the weird places I can think of and so far no luck.
The report from Houston is that Colin and Lisa are okay, managing with a smile, but they still have no power. They are supposedly on the list to have power by Monday which Colin hopes means any time between now and then. Tomorrow they'll take the kids to Lisa's parents, who have power, and go to dinner with friends in the part of town where things are more back to normal. I admire thier good spirits during all this. Was trying to think the longest I was out of power, and I think it was four days. You do kind of sink into an unpleasant routine, but it's sure magic when the lights come on. Lisa keeps repeating though that they are so blessed when so many lost so much and they are relatively unscathed--just inconvenienced. Colin said it's hard to make coffee on the grill in the dark with a flashlight and frustrating to get up in the middle of the night to put more gas in the generator.
Not much political comment except that I am astounded to hear McCain try to blame Obama for the financial crash--McCain has taken three times the money from Freddie and Fannie than Obama. And I'm further asotunded at a poll that says 59% of Americans believe Sarah Palin is qualified to be vice president. My goodness, are their heads in the sand?

My nice life . . . and politics

Last night Austin novelist Sarah Bird stayed in my guest house. She spoke about her latest novel, How Perfect is That? at an HR lunch at TCU and had people laughing so hard their mascara ran--actually more men came to this than usually attend these luncheons. But she and I were pretty much ships that passed in the night until we had lunch today. She had mentioned wishing she'd have grandchildren, but her only child is 19 so she has a way to go. I of course dragged out pictures of my kids and grandkids amd probably talked way too much about my wonderful famly--I'm prone to do that, as readers of this blog might have noticed. But as we got in the car after lunch--my VW bug convertible with butterflies on the hood--she said, "Okay, I want your car, your house, your family, your life." She is of course happily married, lives in what is perhaps Texas' most exciting city, has a career much better than mine--how could she say that? And yet, it touched me, made me think how very fortunate I am, what a good life I have.
Tonight Betty and I ate tapas--the most wonderful Parmesan crisps--and sinful desserts, which was all my fault because I wanted chocolate mousse. But when I came home and took a half glass of wine to the porch, I felt an itch, didn't know what it was, didn't know what I wanted, but something. Maybe it was because I had Jacob the last two evenings and wasn't used to the lazy quiet. I don't know, but I told myself to think about Sarah's comment.
I am horribly conflicted about politics these days. I get a lot of emails, granted all liberal, but many of them are so persuasive that I want to share. What I end up doing, of course, is preaching to the choir, sending them to people who already agree with me. I did branch out a bit and send Gloria Steinem's comments on Sarah Palin to a couple of people that I wasn't sure about--and got equivocal answers. My high school best friend said, "You are my friend forever, and you can't offend me"--and sent something that supported her view. I don't want to offend people, but how do I work for Obama if I can't tell people who need convincing how I feel. (I am block captain for Obama, but that seems a drop in the bucket, and I have obviously declined recent urgings to go to Colorado to support the Democratic congressional contestants there.)
When I said I wanted to be able to discuss politics with those on the other side, I opened a dialog with an old friend who is an arch conservative, thinks George Bush is one of the best presidents we've had, and invading Iraq was a necessity that has turned out well. Clearly he and I never will convince each other, though the exchange was kind of fun.
But what do I do with the email I got today that was a letter from a fellow POW of McCain's and said other POWs were prisoners longer and suffered more torture. McCain, he says, is a man of iron courage who endured much but he is not "The" war hero as he and his campaign protray him. And this man, who went through military school with him, said McCain is a hothead and certainly not someone whose finger he wants on the red button. Do I send it to that man I'll never convince? Do I keep it to myself? What do I, as a deeply concerned citizen and troubled about the current state of everything in our country, do with things like that? I'm saving them up, sending them to the choir, and worrying with my conscience.

Politics and the Dentist

I endured three hours--and lots of drilling--in the dentist's chair today, and apparently it's only the first of many sessions to come. I tried to do it with grace, though there was one period when I felt like I couldn't breathe, and I know I squirmed. I asked if he was almost through, and he said, "No. We're not getting very far. You're moving." So I did as the tech suggested--closed my eyes, breathed through my nose. It went better but none of it was pleasant. Almost as painful as watching politics on the TV.
I watched the Republican convention last night, because I had vowed to hear both sides of the story Whether I watched with an open mind or not is questionable, but I tried. My main impression was that the whole evening had such a military air to it--the former POWs, the constant reminders of McCain's sufferings as a stubborn POW who refused to give up information and paid the price, the president reminding us as he has for the last eight years that we "live in a dangerous world." I am so tired of trying to be frightened into accepting war tha the whole thing dismayed me. Fred Thompson, who I used to like on Law and Order but don't much care for as a politician, did say, "Being a POW doesn't show you can be president, but it does show character" or something to that effect. I am constantly getting the impression that we should vote for McCain because he's a war hero--and God give him every bit of credit that he deserves for his bravery. But he would also be a war president, and our worst presidents have been generals. In all fairness, I hear tonight is to be dedicated to the economy, which was not mentioned last night.
Thompson also called Governor Palin a "breath of fresh air." Who can help but be drawn into that fascinating scenario? One hardly knows what to believe about the daily increasing "revelations" about her and her family, and today I heard that her social security number has even been posted on the internet. I can't see what purpose that would serve even the mudslingers--does it prove something awful about her character? Do they think someone will steal her identity, even as prominently in the public eye as she is? I think the "revelations" about her and her family are unfair, nasty, uncalled for. But I do know she scares me--her extreme right-wing positions on abortion, guns, states' rights. I am curious to know more about her supposed pork barrel funds in her small town and her alleged abuse of power, but we may never get the truth about those things. What scares me most is her absolute, deadening inexperience with national and international politics--how can we put someone like that the proverbial heartbeat away from the presidency, separated only by a man in his seventies who has had several bouts with melanoma and whose long-term health surely suffered from his horrendous experiences as a POW? Palin's appointment scares me about McCain too--it seems he did it on a whim, without thorough vetting, and wouldn't be talked out of it. Can you picture Palin, with her shriill voice and aggressive manner, sitting opposite the cold, calm and calculating Putin? Negotiating with North Korea?
The world, it seems to me, has gone screwy. I'm going back to the fantasy world of mysteries.

Politics and mysteries--well, maybe they're the same

I am, as many Americans are, still consumed with politics. On the crest of the upbeat Democratic convention, we get the news of Senator McCain's choice of a running mate. To me, it's a strange choice, but maybe that's my outlook--Governor Palin is for everything I'm against. But it must be admitted that she has limited experience--that charge thrown so often against Barack Obama. One of my sons said to me today, "It's a mixed blessing. It may help us (Democrats) win, but if the Republicans win, this lady who know nothing about running a nation or international policy is heartbeat away from the presidency." He went on, to discuss, what's on all our minds--Senator McCain is not a spring chicken.
But political opinion and approval or disapproval aside, I'm puzzled by something: most Republicans I know don't want to talk politics. Some say, "Let's not go there"; some say, "I don't know enough about it" which makes me want to shout, "Learn!" I want to talk about it, not necessarily to convert, though I do feel a bit called upon to do that. But I want to know how people can be for McCain, what's their reasoning, what are they thinking? I wonder, and it's scary, if they're not thinking, if they're hearing what they want to hear, or just thinking "I'm a Republican" (or Democrat) and aligning themselves blindly. My good-looking neighbor (I throw that in in case he reads this) is the only one I know who will talk to me about, and I know he's not blindly Republican. Sometimes we get a bit testy, but we have good honest talks. In contrast, I think of the women who, angered that Hillary didn't win, have gone over to McCain's side. Do these women realize he's against abortion? Against most of the things Hillary fought for?
And then there's the mystery of writing mysteries. Sisters in Crime and its various sub-groups have such active listservs that it takes a good portion of my day to sort through the posts. But am I learning a lot. For one thing, I think I have been very naive about querying, thinking happily that my query would stand out from those other amateurs. Not at all true. I may have 60 books to my credit, but in writing mysteries and trying to sell them, I'm a real amateur. For instance, the agent who said he liked my manuscript but didn't love it? And I thought that was a serious line? Apparently it's a cliche blowoff. Agents get hundreds of queries a week and making yours stand out is a real challenge.
I joined a group doing an exercise in "blurbing" their books and the responses have been pretty critical but tremendously helpful. They've made me rethink the book, and interestingly one thing that echoed in the responses was also repeated by my mentor today: I'm trying too hard to fit the subplot in. I have rewritten so many times, but here I go again.
But not this weekend. I'm off to Frisco tomorrow to see Maddie and Edie (and their parents, of course). I'll think about rewriting next week.
I am still having terrible balance problems, and if anyone watched me, they'd either die laughing or call the cops. Today I could NOT get from my car into the grocery--it's those open spaces that get me. Give me a grocery cart to wheel in and I'm just fine. So I started, rounded the corner of the car next to mine, and froze. Had to go back, take a different route, but I finally made it. Such episodes put me back, I think, because they're depressing. I tell people about them--including readers of this blog--because I feel hiding them and fearing someone would find out would only make it worse. Maybe if I can laugh at it? I've gotten over this before, and I will again, but I'm ready any time. As Melinda said to me, I've got a lot going on right now, which probably accounts for it.

A Sleepy Day

I did today what all of us must do to take responsibility for our own health. I had a colonoscopy. Not, it wasn't bad. No, even the prep wasn't that bad--not the way I'd choose to spend an evening, but easy to sruvive intact.The clinic where I went had it down to an art--not a science, but an art. Everywhere one was most kin and personable, and I was never left alone to feel edgy in a cubicle. But as they predicted, I was a little wobbly when I got home. I ate some cottage cheese (a comfort food for me) and slept heavily for three hours; then I ate rice, beans, and a leftover bit of flank steak (the kids were right--it was really good), piddled at the computer for a while, and went back to bed for another two hours. Last night I got so much done (everything I'd brought home), that I thought I ought to call the office and ask them to bring me more from the stack on my desk (I can't drive till tomorrow). By the time I was home today, that thought faded--no energy, no ambition. I got a new Southern Living and have prowled slowly through it; I have a novel to read; I have the Democratic convention to watch.
I think the convention so far has been electrifying. Joe Biden was my choice all along. In recent years, on Sunday morning political shows, when the subject was Iraq, he was the one who made sense, who looked at the situation, understood it, and outlined clearly what we should have done as opposed to what we did do. So I'm delighted with that choice. I thought Biden's speech was great, and I loved the family scene onstage afterward--because I'm family oriented, I am touched by his life story of being a devoted father to his boys after the death of their mother and one child. And the devotion and closeness that his current wife shares with his sons is an amazing thing to see. Joe Biden is indeed a man with values.
The Clintons--okay, since I'm on a political roll here. I started as a Hillary fan but as the primary campaign went along I thought she and her husband both got too shrill, too desperate. But boy oh boy did they redeem themselves the last two nights. They brought the Democratic Party together, unified it, in a way that no one else could. I'm waiting tonight for them to break into "Happy Days are Here Again!" Meantime I hope I can stay awake long enough to hear Obama!

The Saga of Scooby Continues

Scooby is lying at my feet, looking at me with big eyes (one blue, one brown) in an adoring way, but it hasn't been a good week. After the debacle of getting him outside amidst thunder Wed.morning, I had to coax, urge, and do a bit of forcing on Thursday, but he went and I said a small prayer of gratitude. Yesterday when I woke up he had jumped out of his bed corner and was cowering in the closet. I spoke to him and left him there, until he heard the front door open when I went to get the paper. He came bounding out to find out what was going on, and it was when I went back through the living room I saw it--piles of poop. I had barely gotten the first, "Shame!" (delivered in my sternest, lowest voice) out when he made the fastest beeline to the back door you've ever seen. Last night I really barricaded him into his corner--a footstool topped with two chairs. He slept till 6:45, indicated he wanted to go out and trotted to the back door as he has for years. Maybe we're back to routine. I let him in again this afternoon as a trial.
It's a self-indulgent lazy day--lazy but I'm working, going through notes from sales meeting, writing. Self-indulgent because I'm cooking, although it didn't start out well. I decided this morning I wanted chicken salad for lunch, so I put a piece of chicken out to defrost while I went to Central Market. Came home, turned on the oven, seasoned the chicken, and put it in the oven--or thought I did. Went back about 45 minutes later, opened the oven--very hot and very empty. My still-raw chicken was in the microwave. Lunch was a little later than I anticipated, but it sure was good. My new chicken salad recipe (my invention) involves chicken, celery, scallion dressed with equal parts of sour cream and mayo, with lemon and blue cheese to taste. Tonight I'm going to grill scallops and a nectarine and serve (to myself only) with lime vinaigrette and a bit of pesto. Sounds really good.
I'm mulling over a problem. An editor suggested in an email that my second book should be first in the series, and I proceeded to make the changes requiring, which cannibalized the first book badly. But I haven't heard from the editor in response to the outline he requested, and it occurs to me that this doesn't feel right. It flows better if the first book is the first book. There are other editors who might disagree with the first one. Am I wrong to give up my vision of a series for the sake of an offhand opinon? Then again, no one else has shown interest--well, another publisher did ask for 30 pages, and it hasn't been a month, so it's too soon to hear.
I'm delighted with Obama's pick of Joe Biden, although quickly the news is full of his shortcomings. I have always thought he made such good sense on Sunday morning talk shows, particularly about Iraq. A friend wrote that when I grow up (well, that's not the way he said it--see his comment on my previous post) I might become a conservative like the rest of the old-timers. I don't think so. Most of my friends and contemporaries are confirmed liberals and plan, like me, to stay that way.

Using my camera

Mostly this blog is to prove that I'm using my camera and can successfully post pictures on the blog. Jacob brought his mom to dinner last night, and while she actually snapped the pictures I did everything else. We had a delicious supper, if I do say so--baked salmon basted with basil and oregano butter, sauteed fresh green beans and sliced mushrooms, and salad. Jacob had ketchup. His new deal is he comes in the front door and makes a beeline for the corner where I keep my walking sticks, shouting, "Mine, Mine, Mine!" When I shout back, "Mine!" he grins and says, "Tick!"

I'm a happy camper this morning over the election though I guess I'm a bit naive. My neighbor, a conservative who happily disagrees with me about politics, stopped by last night to say he had voted for Hillary. When I expressed surprise, he said, "I just want to keep the contest going." Being naive and also talking too loudly (we were outdoors, with the polling place across the street), I said, "You dont' want McCain, do you?" I know I sounded incredulous. He laughed, said he didn't want any of them, and was moving to Canada. We agreed on a compound. But then this morning I read that a lot of Republicans crossed over to vote for the candidate they considered the weakest. To me, that's dirty politics, on a par with some of Karl Rove's tricks.

Old friends

What's the saying? "Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver, the other gold"? Some old friends stopped for lunch today on their way through town--and I do mean old. They've been among my closest friends for forty years, and while we've shared many low points, from marriage troubles to serious illness, we've shared a lot more good times and some downright silly ones. We talked of our children and grandchildren, we talked a bit about the past and who was left in Fort Worth that they knew, we talked politics--we pretty much agree--and we talked about our lives today. They expressed what I feel--life at this age is good. Oh yes, the seventies bring aches and pains, but as Ray said, you just ignore them and go on. It was a real joy to see them and brightened me for days to come but especially on this rainy and cold day. (I was not brightened that they said "This is just what Scotland will be like in April!")
By serendippity, a local friend had sent me one of those emails that makes the rounds--you may have seen it--about the great freedom that comes with aging. The writer said that she (I'm just presuming it was a she) was for the first time in her life the person she always wanted to be--not the body of course, with it wrinkles and sags and scattered pains, but the person who is more kind and forgiving of herself. "I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant. . . . I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day (if I feel like it)." I like the philosophy!
Anticipation is high here tonight--not for weather as it was last night (turns out we didn't have much bad weather, but it was sure rainy, cold, and miserable today). Tonight it's the primary tomorrow. Jordan just called and I almost didn't answer because I've gotten so many political recorded messages. But the Democratic primary is so close that its nail-biting, and I feel the tension. I will be glued to the TV tomorrow night.
Just had a nice conversation with Jacob. On his part, it consisted mostly of "Juju" and "cook-y" (his mother had just given him a cookie). But it's fun to be able to talk to him.

Stormy weather--and a new era?

It's one of those nights when the weather is "funny"--no other way to describe it. This afternoon, after the wind died down, it was sort of eery. Then it rained, a fairly determined silent rain. Tonight there was a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder but no more. Our county and those all around are under a tornado watch until the wee hours. So even though the weather's not doing anything, you feel it omnipresent, with a sense of anticipation. We're to have storms tonight and into tomorrow, so I've prepared my battle plan for getting Scooby out of the house in the morning. He is so terrified of storms!
Meg just called. She and Brandon have been following this storm across the country. It delayed them getting out of Salt Lale City yesterday, so they missed their flight in Denver and spent the night there. This morning the storm caught up with them in Denver and delayed them again, so they got to Austin at 4 this afternoon instead of midnight last night, bringing the storm with them.
With dire predictions about the weather, I called my dinner guests and asked if they wanted a rain check. I also told them the menu had changed because I couldn't get quail. The quail, Linda said, didn't matter one bit but the possibility of 70 mph winds made a difference. We'll do it another time. Meantime I cooked my meatloaf and Sue came from next door to share it. We got to talking, I left the meatloaf in the oven, and it was dry--but still good.
I went to church this morning. The walls didn't fall in--how embarrassing would that be? And I enjoyed the service. Many of the elements--hymns, music, etc.--were taken from the original service for the laying of the cornerstone 75 years ago, and the anthem was specially commissioned for today. Posts not very far down the aisle from the chancel marked the boundary of the original church--it was a whole lot smaller than today's sanctuary! Somehow as I sat there following the service, I thought how much of the liturgy doesn't change--and I find that comforting. I like the hymns of my youth, the familiar words. And yet our church, like many, experiments with the service, tries new things, is ever changing. And I'm the last one to say change is bad, yet it's hard not to cling to old ways in church--and in our lives. It struck me that Barack Obama may indeed be the sign of a tidal wave of change in our country, a change that is somehow all wrapped up in changing values, behaviors, even linked somehow to the enormous popularity of evangelical churches. What, I wonder, are the American people looking for?
Sue said she'd read or heard on NPR that Obama resembles Reagan in some ways (not economic policy, we hope!)--he talks of hope, without a concrete plan, and he's come along at a time when the American people feel their world is at least out of kilter if not falling apart. Reagan was a kindly fatherly figure; Obama is an attractive, charismatic, fairly young man. He represents, as did Reagon before, an arm up--never mind the hard realities. Don't get me wrong--I'm still holding out hope for Hillary. I think she has the plan and not just the words, and I think she found her issue in the last few days in homeland security but she should have started earlier.
I guess I'll go back to figuring out the history of Scots in Texas. It's a whole lot easier than figuring out what Americans want as opposed to what they need.

Food, food, food, some political thoughts, and a weird plot

I went a bit crazy in Central Market yesterday and bought a lobster tail, a lamb shoulder chop, a pount of ground chicken, and chicken breasts (I had a coupon for those and they went right into FoodSaver bags and into the freezer). The lobster was for tonight, and I studied about how to fix it. Found recipes for deviled lobster and something called Lobster Fra Davolo--but in the end I settled for lobster salad, simply fixed with lemon, chopped celery, a bit of chives, and a tiny bit of mayo. (Christian was appalled this morning that I would cook the lobster and then wait until it was cool to eat it.) The salad was lovely and fresh, and it reminded me of the shrimp salad I used to eat with my mom as a child. On those rare occasions we'd go to downtown Chicago--to my father's office, to shop in Marshall Field's, to my uncle's dental office (how I hated that!)--she'd take me to a small restaurant hidden in the back of an office building next to my uncle's building. We always ate shrimp salad, and to the best of my memory it was made much like my lobster salad tonight, perhaps with a hardboiled egg. These days, I can't eat shrimp, and my budget can't often afford lobster, so this was a treat. I paired it with tiny asparagus tips (Central Market now sells tips so I don't have to buy a whole bunch and eat it all week) and a half ear of corn that wasn't great--corn off season should be avoided, and I know better. I'll probably succumb later to the siren call of a vanilla ice cream cup with chocolate sauce.
Tomorrow night, I'll bone the lamb chop, pound the pieces thin, and fix lamb piccata. And the ground chicken? I've never had a chicken burger. I want to try them the next time Jordan comes to supper. Meantime I froze it.
Today Jordan, Jacob, Christian and I had brunch at Joe T.'s--Christian was off, and he said it was a lovely treat to eat there instead of waiting tables. Yesterday afternoon Jordan, Jacob and I went to Frisco to celebrate Edie's fifth birthday--I can't believe she's five. The girls kept Jacob happily ammused at dinner, having straw "sword fights" with him and giving him crayons and then trying to take them away from him--he thought it was a great game. He ate ketchup and a couple of fries. He's not into eating these days. Unfortunately his grandmother is.
I've thought a lot about Letty Cottin Pogrebin's thoughts on the Obama/Clinton contest (see my last post) and lately I've heard echoes of what she said. Last night daughter-in-law Melanie said she visited her brother in New York City and got caught up in his Obama enthusiasm and that of his friends. But then she watched the Austin debate and decided Obama has no substance. Cokey Roberts, on the George Stephanopoulos show this morning, said it best: Clinton thought she was the front runner, and here comes this good-looking young man with words full of sweet nothing. I think the tide is turning against him--one overseas observer called his supporters "cult-like." But will it be in time for Ohio, Pennsylvania and Texas?
I think the Lord means me to write a mystery. I've been dreaming in mysteries. When I woke up this morning the plot was very clear in my head, but of course it's not now. I know that Uncle Jack, our neighbor when I was growing up, rescued me. I was in a complex of office buildings, but all around was a forest and an occasonal private home. And someone was blackmailing me. Wow! Don't give this to a dream interpreter. But tonight I think I'll go back to that mystery I've written and done nothing with. This afternoon I did some research about the history of Scots in Texas. There's something there, but I haven't found it yet. I guess that's part of the writing process.

Politics and feminism, and some bookselling thoughts

I just watched an interview with Letty Cottin Pogrebin, the outspoken feminist, and her daughter. Pogrebin is for Clinton, the daughter for Obama. Pogrebin seems to feel that we're so close to having a woman as president we must elect Hilary; the daughter sees, as I think many young people do, the emotional argument of hope and change. Pogrebin, like a lot of her sisters, has spent much of her adult life hoping to see a woman as president, and she's dismayed that it's so near and yet so far. There was a sentiment of "It's her turn; he should wait his turn." It reminds me of a friend who, with truly female logic, pointed out that he's younger, so she should go first and then he could have his turn and we Democrats would have the White House for 16 years. I told her I don't think it works that way. But Pogrebin made me think about my own stance, and I don't think the feminism angle enters into my support of the Clinton campaign. If I were thinking in terms of diversifying our government, I would be equally for either candidate (and truth be told, I will be happy with either). But my support of Clinton is based on the experience argument. I think I can say that honestly. It reminds me some of twenty years ago when a friend said you had to vote on a single issue--whether or not a candidate supported women's rights and abortion. I don't think government is that clear cut.
Hillary Clinton was in Fort Worth today, and Melinda really wanted to go see her. She said it would be impossible to park but we could take a bus downtown. I felt like a wimp who was letting her down when I said, "It's too cold to stand on a bus stop, and I don't want to be with thousands of other people." Well, of course, it turned out tragically. With the death of the Dallas policement who was part of her escort, Clinton cancelled the rally and went back to Dallas. That act--and her obvious distress--answered, to me, some of the critics who find her hard and controlled.
Yesterday, it turned so cold between the time I went to work and the time we went to lunch, that I got chilled and stayed that way all day. Today I bundled up in heavy clothes and was almost too warm. But sitting with friends from church in a restaurant, we got chilled again every time the door opened. This is Texas though--60s tomorrow and 70 by Sunday.
Grace & Gumption: Stories of Fort Worth Women was the lead review on the book review page of Southern Living--I picked up a copy in the grocery today. That's a real coup. The problem of marketing books is always with us. We haven't had time to post books on amazon's Search Inside the Book, and yet we all feel it's essential. Then today we got hit with a request to join Microsoft's Live Books Search program--to me, it sounds like their answer to amazon, but they're in partnership with the wholesale distributorship Ingram. So it too seems important--lots and lots of booksellers buy from Ingram. I remain baffled that the university wants us to increase sales but won't give us the personnel to do the necessary marketing.
We have an author who hand sells his book with a vigor that astounds me (especially since he's 80). But he's gone all over South Texas and also up into Oklahoma (where his memoir begins) taking the book to libraries, bookstores, and the like. When libraries say they've never heard of it or booksellers say our rep hasn't mentioned it, he thinks we not doing our part. In truth, it's not possible for us to give that kind of publicity to every book--librarians are overwhelmed with catalogs and mailings, reps have too many books to mention each one individually. The author is absolutely the best salesman. I think Ill write something on that, to be given to each author when his or her book comes out.
Enough. I'm going to see if I can play with Google Reader and figure it out.

Food, weather, a bit of politics, and a blog

I just had a wonderful supper. Friday night seems to be the night I often fix myself a special dinner. Tonight it was scallops Provencale--I usually cook sea scallops, but Central Market only had the small bay scallops, and they were wonderful. I sauteed them in butter and olive oil until they were lightly brown and just cooked. Put them on a plate, added a bit more butter to the skillet, a dash of white wine, sliced garlic, a bit of chopped tomato, and a pinch of thyme and then put that over the scallops. Central Market had asparagus tips today--usually they only have bundles, and I have to either forego or decide to eat asparagus all week (which isn't all bad) but today I bought just enough tips for one serving. Yes, they were expensive, but one serving was a bit over a dollar. I sauteed those in butter and olive oil, sprinkled with kosher salt and pepper. It was all delicious.
Tomorrow Jordan is coming for salmon (I had a coupon today). I think I'll fix a green goddess sauce for it with tarragon--oh, I don't remember what all, but I have a recipe. Sunday night friends are coming, and I'll fix a tamale pie with polenta and a huge tossed salad. Dessert will be my new favorite--ice cream cups with chocolate sauce. Talk about the casual hostess!
We're in for Texas weather. This morning it was in the upper 40s, a bit breezy and very gray, but not bad. During the morning it got progressively colder. Tomorrow they predict heavy cold rain, so I rushed to two groceries at noon, got everything I need (I surely hope!), and plan not to stick my nose out all weekend. Since I'll have company both nights, it's night like I'm being a hermit, which I don't like.
My neighbor, Susan, came over today to help me put all the Christmas decorations in the attic. I'm ashamed that it's almost March and my decoratons, in boxes, paper bags, and black plastic bags, still decorated the guest room. Susan and I made short work of it, though she wouldn't let me do the attic part--I handed her things from the ground. Good neighbors are like gold, and I am most grateful to her. She and her husband also sent me flowers yesterday, which was a lovely Valentine surprise. The flowers are on my desk--a nice bright spot in a cluttered, messy office.
I'm watching all this politics with great interest. A friend said to me that it irritated her and she just wished it was over with, but I'm enjoying the process. I'm only interested, of course, in the Democratic side. McCain has the Republican tied up (I really was interested in the verbal battles between him and Romney, and it's politics as usual that Romney has now endorsed him). I'm not much of a fan of Senator McCain--on a few issues, yes, and I admire what I always thought was his honesty, though I'm now told I may be misled. But his stance on military matters and international relationships (or non-relationships) frightens me, and I don't like his abortion stand either. But I like both the Democrats, and I watch them battle with mixed feelings--each wants it so badly, has so much at stake, that I worry about the loser. For our country, I hope they can collaborate, because I think they truly speak of the future. Funny, but lately two staunchly Republican friends--one my son-in-law--have confessed to me that they'll vote Democratic in the March 4 primary. Of course, they had different candidates, but hey! Two for our side!
If you're reading this on Saturday morning, go to http://www.petticoatsandpistols.com. I'm the guest blogger for the week. Interesting experience, since it's a romance writers blog, and I'm not a romance writer. Still, tonight, I read a recap of It Happened One Night on that blog and realized that it has the bare bones of romance writing. I could do that too, without the bodice busting scenes.
If you're in Texas, I hope you stay warm and cozy this weekend.

Nice day with some political thoughts

What a nice day! I had three emails in response to my Dallas Morning News column on Robert E. Howard (prolific pulp writer of fantasy, horror, westerns, and creator of Conan the Barbarian among others) that ran this morning, plus one comment on my blog. I felt like I was really talking to people. And it was a lovely day besides--I spent the morning getting ready for dinner guests--making a pot of chicken/vegetable soup, setting the table, etc. I lingered over the morning paper and then over watering the houseplants and trimming away the overgrown and dead parts. Tonight two good friends came for dinner--they were on their way home from Market in Dallas. We had a lovely visit, talk ranging from the old house they just bought to politics. The soup was okay, the salad really good, and the company excellent. The wine was so-so--they brought a cabernet called Wrangler. Since neither Linda nor I drink red, Rodger got to taste it and declared it tasted like wrangler wine--though eventually he said it improved after it had been open a while (he did admit that might be due to his having had a glass already). Linda and I drank a chardonnay called Cupcakes--she admitted she buys wine by the label, but it was perfectly fine I thought.
Today I also finished reading Sara Paretsky's Writing in an Age of Silence. It resonated with me for several reasons--she writes abut her heroine V.I. Warshawki's adventures in far South Chicago--not my part of South Chicago but still the same general territory. And she writes about commercial publishing--there used to be more than forty publishing houses in New York but today there are essentially seven publishers, and they are all big corporations with many businesses. Books, she points out, have become products, just like Pampers. (In fact, one corporate conglomeration brought in the head of their Pampers division to manage Simon & Schuster). Publishing today is strictly a bottom-line business and Faulkner, Thomas Wolfe, and a lot of other great American authors would never see print today. The days of Maxwell Perkins, the editor who published Wolfe and others because he loved books and good writing, are gone. Today's editors spend more time with spread sheets than manuscripts, according to Paretsky. It makes a great argument for university presses--but I, a frustrated mystery writer, find that cold comfort. On the other hand, as the director of a small academic press, I plan to use her comments with my administration.
Paretsky is even more powerful writing about the Patriot Act and its effect on freedom in the United States. She cites a horrifying list of individual cases--people being arrested and held for days without being able to tell their family where they are--all on the most flimsy charges. I closed the book with a profound sense of sadness for our country but a determination to do more to speak out--maybe this blog is my first step in that direction.
Another step--I sent a check, albeit small, to Hillary Clinton's campaign today. For me, it was a significant step. As an on-the-record liberal, I am beseiged with phone and email solicitations from the Democratic candidates, from Move-On, People for the American Way, and the national, state, and local Democratic parties, but I have held them all off, saying I would contribute when I made up my mind. And I think it was less Sara Paretsky than Meet the Press, George Stephanopoulos, and the MacNeill hour that made me decide today that the time has come to support Hillary. I think she has the courage, knowledge, and capability to begin to heal the economy, do something about health care, and, most important to me, end the war-with-no-end in Iraq. Whoever moves into the White House next year has an enormous task to fix the mess we're in, but I think she's the best choice.

Comments, comedy, and grocery shopping

I was thrilled today to receive notice that Darren Fleming, public speaking coach of Australia, had posted a comment on my blog. Imagine that! Someone in Australia is reading what I write. Thanks, Darren. And it's comforting to know that people who are good at public speaking are often nervous about it. I don't think I've overcome the nervousness, but I've shown myself I can rise above it--and that's a great thing.
A bit of comedy from tha speech. I was telling the women about Miriam "Ma" Ferguson, the first woman elected governor in the United States. (She wasn't the first in office because Nellie Ross of Wyoming beat her to it when her husband died and she was appointed in his place.) Miriam wanted nothing more than to stay home, raise her daughters, and work in her garden. But Ma (her daughter says they would never have dared call her that!) ran at her husband's request, because he had been impeached, and she needed to restore the family honor. I told the ladies if that reminded them of Hillary and Bill . . . . and then, knowing I was in Republican country, I let the comment trail off. They laughed heartily.
But the next day, by serendippity, someone forwarded me a column from the Washington Post that compared Hillay and Bill to the Fergusons, named me as a Fort Worth writer and winner of the 2005 Owen Wister Award for Lifetime Achievement (still a biggie for me, and I love to see it in print), and quoted from the book. Needless to say, I got the big head, and my publisher was ecstatic.
It's been very cold here, and today was better but still cold. Still it was sunny and bright and a happy kind of day. I picked up my friend Charles--he's 91, and I don't like to let him drive--and we went for spinach enchiladas. Then I dragged him to Central Market, which he called an "interesting experience" and said he was "learning the ropes" (it is different than shopping in most markets--you package vegetables in a plastic bag, weigh them after punching in a code, and slap on a sticker with the price). Charles called me the queen of scratch--I asked him what he meant, and he said it was because I only bought things to cook from scratch! Of course. No TV meals for me.
Tonight is predicted to be very cold again, but I am tucked in for the evening. I've done some good work today--drafted a white paper (I really don't understand that term, but I wrote something about the women's writing series we propose for a support grant), wrote up some notes for a cookbook, and keyed in some recipes for the Great Chefs of Texas book. Think I'll quit and go back to reading Writing in an Age of Silence by Sara Paretsky. From the little I've read, I find that's she's more militant, angrier than I expected--but that's not a fair judgement because I haven't read enough yet.
My long weekend will be pleasant. Good friends are coming for soup and salad tomorrow night, and Monday I'll meet old friends for lunch and then cook a new (and experimental) pasta recipe for two good women friends. We meet occasionally on Monday nights and call it "Girls Night Out."

A long-lost relative, critters, and a good dinner

I had a wonderful phone call tonight. When I answered the phone, a very Canadian accent said, "This is your cousin Norma." Actually I think she's my father's cousin. She was born on his 21st b'day (in 1918) and is named after him. I've exchanged Christmas letters with her for years, but I can't tell you when I've talked to her. Perhaps when I was a young child--I remember of course always hearing about her, and in my long-ago memory either she or her mother took me to the five-and-dime in Oakville, Ontario. But she called tonight just to inquire how my family and I were getting along, and of course I was glad for news of her. She'll be 90 on January 29 (which would make my dad an astounding 111) and still lives alone in her house, which she says she'll do as long as she can manage the stairs. She sounds sprightly and lively and very "with it." We talked about the two relatives from my side of the family who still live in Toronto, and I forgot to ask about the McKnights, which I must do. She was thrilled that I'm going to Scotland to look for the MacBains this spring. Family is a wonderful thing, and it's particularly touching to me to be in touch with one so distant. I'll keep up the communication.
Another phone call was less cheering. I talked to my brother this morning, and he told me that a mutual friend's daughter died of breast cancer yesterday. She was probably in her late 40s. Our children are not supposed to die before us, and I'm sure this is a tragic blow. I've written a note. Other than that sad note, John and I, who disagree violently on politics, had a very interesting and non-angry talk about the outcome of the Iowa caucuses. When we both calm down and put down our guard, we agree on a great deal.
I'm having an exercise in critters. The exterminator told me he either saw four rats or one rat four times in my attic. Well I either saw two dead baby rats or one twice in the backyard--Scooby isn't talking. But I finally scooped up the critter with some other garbage. So if I find another one, I'll know it's a new one. I have heard no more noises in the wall but have begun to see those huge black flies that come when something dies. Swell! Tonight a less distrubing critter was in Scooby's water dish--a gecko was floating on the top. I assumed the poor thing was dead, but when I emptied out the old water, it scurried away to live again another day and catch more pests. Geckos are such good friends and so cute.
Jordan, Jacob and Christian came for supper today. I roasted a chicken with herbs and potatoes and shallots, and I made Jordan make the salad because she's been wanting to master the blue cheese dressing that I do in the bowl. She did very well. Jacob did not. He apparently still doesn't feel well and was fussy and needy--but it's okay. Everyone's entitled to a day like that. I've had more than my share lately.