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.

A great session with an Alzheimer's Support Group

Tag! You're It! Toight it's Lisa Haselton who's working on a wonderful time-travel novel that will take her back to her grandparents' story, via a trunk in the attic of the house generations of her famiy have lived in. Rad about it at

http://lisahaseltonsreviewsandinterviews.blogspot.com/2012/10/tag-im-it-look-at-work-in-progress.html

 I’m laughing at the variety of my speeches, Yesterday I spoke to realtors about mystery; today I spoke to an Alzheimer’s Support Group about memoir. I was a bit—okay, a lot--worried about this, because if I simply had to talk about writing a memoir I could probably say all I know in ten minutes. The group was two hours. I was afraid these people would not participate, not offer memories, etc., because Alzheimer’s patients often have a hard time collecting and organizing their thoughts.

I began by talking about reasons for writing a memoir—to capture your life for yourself, so you can relive fond memories; to capture your story for your children. But I stressed that memoir doesn’t have to be shared. The facility coordinator talked about the importance of old photographs in sparking memories and suggested scrapbooking.

But when the talk turned to their memories, I was in for a pleasant surprise. They volunteered memories. Several had grown up on a farm, and one, a dear friend, said, “I can smell the barn even now.” He told a funny story about his brother mistaking Ex-Lax for candy, which led to a discussion of our experiences with outhouses. Yes, even city girl that I am, I have used an outhouse a lot more than once. A woman I knew had owned a bookstore, which I’d visited one wonderful weekend—so we had fun reminiscing about that. Another man had experience in both city and corporate politics and talked about his career. Then we got on the subject of travel—from New Zealand to San Miguel de Allende, from Spain to Scotland. They talked—with me prodding and telling a few stories—for almost an hour and a half, and the friend who asked me to do this said the thinks they really enjoyed it.
Yes, once one said, in mid-sentence, “I’m losing it,” and another said, “What did I just say? It went right over my head.” But everyone just laughed and the talk went on. I so admire the people who are battling this disease, and the caretakers who are with them usually 24/7. 
I ended by passing out a sheet of questions and suggesting that memoir doesn’t have to be a written narrative: it can be a journal of notes; you could tell your stories to someone else who would write them for you; you could dictate them into a tape recorder, but I noticed that many people did take notes. One woman said she’d been keeping a journal since she was a child.
I had a rare and much enjoyed treat—lunch with my brother and sister-in-law who were in town mostly I gather because she wanted corned beef and cabbage, which the deli serves on Fridays. I had a half a tongue sandwich and John had lox and bagels, which he pronounced better than usual. Nice visit with them, and then it was time for a quick nap, pick up Jacob, fiddle around, and I went to a small but most pleasant cocktail party. Wonderful food, fun to meet new people since I only knew one man at the party.
Now home to a house full of junk. Jordan and Christian are having a garage sale in my front yard tomorrow. Aaargh! Do you know how much I hate that? But if you’re in Fort Worth, come by Berkeley—it’s the neighborhood garage sale, and we have a really good deal on a couch. “Night!

Home again, home again

No matter how great a vacation has been--and ours was great--it's always good to be home again. When we drove to Breckenridge, we were in a hurry to get there because of a winter storm advisory; when we drove home today, we were in a hurry because of a winter storm advisory. It actually began to snow hard outside Wichita Falls, and Christian did a terrific job of guiding us through what was almost a whiteout. Two days in a car is grueling, almost all of it next to a three-year-old who was as good as you can expect a child that age to be in those circumstances. But still . . . at one point Jacob wailed, "I don't want to be a good boy!" I didn't blame him! I wanted to whine and cry too!
We didn't leave Breckenridge until almost noonMonday, which is 1:00 p.m.Texas. Big breakfast with most of the family at a terrific restaurant. It was good to visit, and as I fought the urge to say we should be on the road, I thought "What for?" If we get to Dumas at 6 p.m. what will we do then? So we lingered, visisted and had a good time. Findally got on the road, skirting Denver and going through the low mountain range to catch Highway 25 at Pueblo. But by the time we crossed the northwest corner of New Mexico and the towns in the Panhandle, we were tired and hungry. Jamie found a steakhouse in Dalhart (GPS systems are great) and we stopped and had a pretty good dinner, even though service was slow. Then on to Dumas, where we all went right to sleep in a really nice Comfort Inn.
Today we caravaned part way, then lost the Frisco Alters at a rest stop. We had Subway sandwiches in Vernon, feeling the pressure to get on home, and then inched along Hwy. 287, finally cutting through Saginaw to avoid the main north-south highway into Fort Worth, which was most likely clogged because of the snow. Arrived at my house about 4:30.
But there were good moments in that trip--last night at dinner I got to visit more with Jamie and 10-year-old Maddie than I had, and she was sweet at the motel, helping me find my room and insert the card to unlock it. Told her this morning I almost called her to ask how to operate the TV, coffee maker, and hair dryer. She's such a sophisticated traveler! And this morning, Jamie, Jordan and I had a good visit over breakfast and some honest talk--one result of which is my New Year resolution is to wear my hearing aids (first I have to unpack the suitcase and get them out, which I haven't done yet!). So it was like the entire vacation--a mixed bag with some really good high points.
I came home to lots of emails (couldn't get my cell phone to connect me for the last two days), lots of mail, and lots of chores--how does one retired person stay so busy? I have made headway tonight, but tomorrow I have a lunch appointment, a haircut, and a necessary grocery trip. Otherwise the day is mine,mine, mine!

Traveling

I'm not a graceful traveler. My horoscope sign is Cancer, and that means I'm a homebody. But I certainly don't want to be home alone on Christmas, so this year I'm going to Houston to be with Colin and his family. It will be a great chance to get to know Morgan (3) and Kegan (1-1/2) better--usually when we meet, it's among throngs of family. I'm leaving in the morning, at 9 a.m., riding with one of Jordan's colleagues who is going to Galveston for a cruise. Jordan said they could just let me out on I-45, which gave me visions of being shoved out the door of a car. Then Lisa said to tell them to take me to I-45 and 1960, but I complained I did not want to be left at an intersection--I wanted a McDonald's or something, a Stop 'n Go, some definite place. So they came up with a hot dog place--the name is in my purse--and Lisa said Colin will no doubt want to eat there. But, per orders from Jordan, I am taking a sandwich in the car--and some cookies.
I have spent today doing all those last-minute things you do when you're about to turn your house over to someone else for ten days--laundry, watering plants, dishwasher, cleaning the cat box thoroughly, sorting out what to give Jordan from the fridge. A former student will stay here Sunday and Monday since it will be very cold and Scooby can't stay outside; then Sue will take over. Her parents arrive Tuesday, so it works well for her to sleep either in the main house or in the apt.--her choice, unless it gets bitterly cold again. I told her she might find it more trouble to sleep with my animals than in a crowded small house with her parents and kids.
Tonight Jacob is spending the night. We had a jolly evening--periods of watching a DVD followed by periods of play and conversation I didn't quite get all of. Just now, at my desk, I heard this other-worldly voice calling, "Juju, Juju." I looked out the window, even went to the door, wondering if Sue's kids were out there. But Scooby didn't bark, and then of course I realized it was Jacob on the monitor. So I went in and loved him and told him he'd have a good sleep and Mommy and Daddy would come in the morning. He said, "Okay" and appeared to settle down. Earlier we watched a movie about "Do Claus" (Santa) and he commented on the "shew lights"--Christmas lights. Jacob is nothing if not imaginative.
I'm going to write some Christmas thank-you notes and go to sleep early. It will be a hectic morning, trying to juggle Jacob and last-minute packing.

Front Porches

When I was a kid on the South Side of Chicago, we had a screened porch on our old 1890s duplex. That meant in that climate and with the screens of the day, every spring Dad put up the screens, and every fall he tooks them down and put up storm windows. But in the summer, we lived on the porch--ate three meals a day there, and Mom and I often slept there. She had rigged a waist-high canvas curtain on the street side so that no one could see us, and the South Side being what it was, she cautioned me to be very quiet whenever anyone walked by. Chicago could be muggy in the '50s, and the outdoors was a lot better than the house which as yet had no a/c. I loved those nights.

Now I live in a house with a nice wide porch across the front, with about 2/3 of it roofed. I tell people it's why I bought the house. I have large and small dinner parties out there, and the neighbors often gather for wine or food or just to visit. Jacob loves to stand there and watch the traffic go by on our fairly busy street--"Truck! Truck! Truck!" Tonight I was sitting out there alone with a glass of wine and thinking how wonderful it is. It's hot but windy, so the porch is pleasant, and the huge old elm sways in the breeze. I always worry about that tree, because it periodically loses huge branches--and since it's on city property, I'm afraid the city will tear it down. The house would not be the same without it. On the property line to the west of the house there's an oak--a small tree when I moved here 15 years ago, but now it's grown to a graceful, good-sized tree. And all up and down, the street is lined with trees, so you can sit on the porch and almost forget you're in the city. It's like a boer of green. I'm not a great gardener, but I have pots of herbs on the porch--and I use them often.

Yesterday was a mixed bag of a day--in the morning I went to a new dentist who told me I need every filling in my mouth replaced. Megan said I need a second opinion but unfortunately that was the second opinion. The dentist was a pleasant, likeable man, and I think I trust him--but one wonders about such a sweeping diagnosis. He did do a much more thorough dental exam than I've ever had before, including a tiny camera with which I swear he took 50 pictures of the inside of my mouth--fairly scary. First step is a thorough "scaling" of my gums--enough to give one the willies.

But then in the afternoon I heard from a NY editor I'd written to for advice. He's an old friend from my westerns days. I asked for advice on marketing a "cozy," and he said he just happened to be editing a cozy series (he said wrly, "How the mighty have fallen," so I guess he considers it sort of a comedown) and why didn't I forget an agent for the time being and send it to him. He wanted an outline and three chapters, so I spent the evening constructing an after-the-fact outline and tonight I got it all off to him, with a note saying that I thought the outline in bare bones read like a soap opera, so I also included a synopsis, which sounded much better. Then later last night an agent I had queried asked for three chapters. I'm afraid to get excited about any of this, but it's good to even get responses.

Today I had lunch with my lawyer who is also a good friend. I need advice on the legal aspect of the second mystery which I've just started, and she explained a couple of things but said she's not a criminal lawyer but can ask some colleagues.

I cancelled my plans to go to Austin this weekend with regret--it just didn't seem to be working out, and the trauma of getting there and back began to outweigh the pleasure of being there. The train from Austin runs three hours late (normally a four-and-a-half-hour trip). Jeannie pointed out that it's pretty scary that you can fly to London quicker than you can take the train 180 miles from Austin to Fort Worth. But Colin and I are moving ahead with plans to go to Scotland in the fall, and I'm getting excited all over again.

The holiday weekend

Have you noticed that when you go back to work or out in the world after a holiday weekend, everyone asks, "How was your weekend?" I've thought about that, and my answer this time is that it was busy, but it was busyness of my own making. One of the women in my office said, "That's a really good thing," and I agreed. Last night my neighbors and some other friends came for a potluck barbecue--there were six of us and we had enough food for 15. But it was a lovely, convivial evening on the porch--casual, interesting conversation, good food, a tad too hot but who cared. I thought once again how blessed I am by friends and neighbors. And with everyone taking their serving dishes home and having used paper plates, cleanup was a snap. (Okay, I do try to save the environment and not use disposables, but there are some times when it surely is a blessing!).
One thing I learned this weekend, a lesson learned over and over, is that both cooking and yoga are hard work. I cooked for two hours yesterday morning--puttered really, but I did some freezer work (and need to do more), made a black bean salsa (soooo good!), brownies with chile powder and cinnamon added to the Ghiardelli mix (that mix is very moist and maybe the best I've ever had--and the spices were pretty good), and a baguette stuffed with pesto cream cheese, chopped sun-dried tomatoes, parmesan, and chopped spinach--good but messy and hard to deal with. When I got through I was really tired and ready to sit down. And then in the afternoon I did some of the yoga exercises Elizabeth is teaching me--and I was tired again. Today, as so often happens after a weekend of cooking, I had aches and pains that I usually don't have--but my feet didn't hurt.
The weekend was made even better because I really got into a P. D. James mystery--Devices & Desires. British mysteries are hard for me--they're slow to engage when I went the quick action and drawing into the scene of an American cozy. But when I force myself to persevere and stick with James or Martha Grimes, I find I really am hooked and want to keep reading. But, always, my own mystery--number two in my great series of unpublished--rattles around in my brain, and I have what seems like absolutely great ideas. I wrote some today and will do some more tonight. The plot that I thought was minor seems to be taking over, while what I thought was going to be the main story, is moving more into the background. Fun to see how it develops. I'm thinking of calling it No Neighborhood for Old Women, with a bow to Cormac McCarthy, because if it comes out as I envision, there will be a serial killer stalking old ladies. I doubt that, should I find a publisher, I'd get away with that title, but I think it's fun for now. I'm trying to keep a careful list of what agent and when I query, so I can follow up. They're pretty rude about not answering if they're not interested.
Meanwhile, the idea has come up that maybe Colin and I should go to Scotland this fall. My good friends from Omaha were planning for us to take a Santa Fe trip, but maybe Scotland will over-ride that. It's just a vague thought at this point, but I'm going to email him some places to google tonight.

Sushi and other stuff

Betty and I went for sushi tonight. We like to go to the Tokyo Cafe, where I am in a real rut--I order salmon sashimi, the appetizer portion of chicken yakitori, and the dinner salad, which has a slightly sweet dressing that I would dislike anywhere else but really like there. But they have a new chef, who's brought new ideas, and they got a great review in the newspaper, along with several recommendations for dishes I didn't know they had. So both of us branched out. I had the abalone tostada--an abalone salad (much like I'd make crab salad but with a real subtle kick of spice) on a fried wonton--absolutely wonderful. Betty had something with shrimp (she always does that, and I say she does it to spite me because I'm allergic) in an avocado half, which she declared was equally wonderful. Then we split a "Crunchy Roll"--salmon, scallions, cream cheese, and I don't know what in rice topped with panko crumbs to make it crunchy. Terrific! I particularly liked that the roll didn't have seaweed around it--I do try to be "trendy" but I don't like dealing with seaweed (texture, I guess, not taste) and I don't like seaweed salad.
Old age is fast creeping up on me. The latest sign was that I went to the podiatrist today to have my toe nails cut. If you'd told me a year ago that I couldn't cut my own toe nails, I'd have scoffed. But they get tough and thick, and I have one unmanageable nail--it grows so thick I can't cut it. He cut, trimmed, and generally cleaned up all my nails and my troublesome corn and told me to come back in two months. I remember a podiatrist friend who said if you can keep elderly feet comfortable you can keep patients happy and functioning. I think it's true, and I intend to take care of my feet, which I took for granted for too many years.
My Scotland trip is almost upon me, and I'm making practical plans all the time--someone to stay in the house, getting the sprinkler system repaired, animal care, etc. And I'm making travel plans--checking the medication supply, laying out clothes, etc. I've never been "across the pond" so this is a biggie for me--and one of the longest vacations I've taken. I have lots of mixed feelings--mostly excitement and anticipation, but a bit of anxiety that is accompanied by a wish that it would just get here so I could stop anticipating. I truly know that once I'm there I'll have a wonderful time, and I'm envisioning all kinds of happy scenes in ancient castles and on windswept coasts--okay, I'm a bit of a romantic!
Meantime, I can't settle down to much work, so I've given up the idea of serious writing for the next two weeks. And I've requested that Jordan and Christian come for a send-off dinner the night before I go--and maybe Jamie and his family. I feel about this trip like I do about my approaching 70th birthday--it's a big, once-in-a-lifetime deal!
This weekend TCU Press has its big springtime event--Books & Music in the Garden. We've got about 150 people registered, so I'm pretty excited. And I need to marshal my thoughts on that and not Scotland. Someone asked if it was being catered, and I replied, "Yep. Jeannie and me." Lots to be done.

Practicing my balance

Bebe Bahnsen sent me some really useful exercises to strengthen leg and ankle muscles and thereby improve balance. I'm really glad I live alone so no one can see me walking around the house on my toes, then on my heels, or doing sit-to-stands ten times rapidly. But I'm doing them. This morning I slept in, didn't make myself get up and exercise--which I had been dreading for a long time. Instead, I got up a little before 7, got to work, then came home and exercised before lunch. May be a new routine.
All this exercise is of course preparation for Scotland. Jordan--who is by the by a travel agent--got me a map of the British RR system. I had asked for reservations to Inverness, which is where I found some great-sounding b&bs. When I looked at the map, I realized it's really north. But I think now it would be fun to go to Inverness, spend a few days, then take the train to Aberdeen (about halfway to Edinburgh--Jordan corrected my spelling, because I'd been writing Edinborough; some Scot I am!). After a few days in Aberdeen, we could finish up in Edinburgh.
Last night I fixed myself Salisbury steak (no, not the kind in the aluminum tray), mashed potatoes, and salad--delicious. I slathered that gravy over the potatoes and loved it. Tonight I took leftovers to Jordan's and told her the meat needed to be heated in the skillet. I looked over as I was making the salad and thought she was stirring an awful lot for a dish of meat patties. Turns out she didn't get the concept of patties, so we had ground beef and mushrooms in gravy. But it was still good.
I'm a latecomer to P.D.James mysteries, but I'm now reading Innocent Blood and am thoroughly intrigued by it--the cautionary tale of what an adopted girl finds when she goes after her biological parents--but as always I find James slow. She sometimes becomes tedious in characters' introspections and in descriptions. I always have to get halfway through the book to get really hooked. Meantime, I'm back to my surgery text.

A New/Old Diet and a Riveting Book

This "bug" that got me resulted in a learning experience--my doctor's office advised the BRAT diet (bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast). I thought that was something wonderful and new, but Melanie told me it's "all over pediatric medicine" and Melinda said she raised her kids on it. It seems to be effective, but I am getting hungry and tired of those four foods. Now I'm on antibiotics, which can always lead to side effects--so I'm not a happy camper.
This enforced laziness, however, has had an upside. I spent the last two days reading Infidel, which I mentioned in a previous post. It's a gripping story, and I have great admiration of Ayaan Hirsi Ali. Born in Somalia into a strict Muslim family, she ran away from an arranged marriage, escaped to Holland, educated herself, and eventually became a member of the Dutch Parliament. She is so outspoke about the cruelty and inequities of the Muslim faith, especially against women, that she has received death threats and often had security guards. In spite of her many accomplishments, her telling of the story reveals her as sensitive, with all the insecurities, guilt, and conflicts of the rest of us. I was particularly interested in the way she worked through the conflict between her Muslim faith and the world she was learning about at the University of Leiden. I really recommend this book.
Yesterday I didn't feel like working and was delighted when Jordan said she and Jacob wanted to get out of the house and were headed my way. She and Christian have been in Mexico for a long weekend--I now know there's no justice in this world. She goes to Mexico, and I get Montezuma's Revenge. Anyway, they spent about an hour here, and Jacob was busy as ever. My exercise bike has a coiled wire of some kind in the back, and he's been told firmly several times that it's "not for Jacob." So he got between the wall and the bike, where we couldn't really see him. If I called his name, he favored me with his most winning smile. Jord said he had his hands poised over that wire, as if to say, "Look! I'm not touching it!"
Megan is talking about a girls getaway in Santa Fe when American Eagle starts direct flights. Won't take much to convince me!
Off to read a mystery.

A Weekend Away--Working

I've just had one of those weekends that make me realize what an interesting life I lead. Saturday night I stood on a large brick patio in a beautifully landscaped backyard in Albany, Texas, and thought, "Who would believe I'm here, having a drink with all these ranch people I've never met before." Well, I knew a few of them but not a lot. Jeannie and I had gone to Albany for a book signing, and I spent three hours at the Lynch Line, a small but charming bookstore where I sold 12 books and signed another 84 for future use. The book is John Barclay Armstrong, Texas Ranger, and also present for some of the signing--and to sign all those 84 books--were John Barclay Armstrong III (great-grandson) and JBA IV (great-great grandson, age ten, who diligently signed the books alongside his father). The publisher, my friend Rue Judd of Bright Sky Books, had arranged it all. Jeannie spent the signing time touring the world-famous Old Jail Art Gallery and Museum and then going to an organ concert at the gem of a small Presbyterian church they have in Albany (I envied her that particularly). Before the signing, we'd done some serious Christmas shopping. Albany has lovely stores, fun to browse in, particularly stores with kitchen stuff.
Albany may be small, but it's a picturesque town--and not all Texas small towns fit that category. Whereas many have boarded-up storefronts and rundown homes, Albany is full of neatly kept, attractive homes--some quite sizeable--and tastefully redone buildings on the square. I'm sure we missed a lot of it, like the place that's supposed to have the best meringue pies ever (something Hico residents would debate!).
From the signing, we went by our borrowed quarters--the home of Rue's neighbors who were out of town--changed into jeans, and went to Rue's for the patio cocktail hour. Then off to the courthouse lawn for beans & barbecue. We ran into the former chancellor of TCU and his wife, for whom Jeannie had worked and both of whom I had always liked a lot. Hugs and greetings of surprise were exchanged--small world, although we knew that they have a home near Albany. Then we were off to Fandangle, the outdoor pageant detailing the history of Fort Griffin and really all of West Texas. The pageant was closing its 69th season last night, and it's amazing that this tiny town--pop. 1,961--can gather the enormous cast and elaborate staging (including a train and a herd of Longhorns) that it does every year. And the show changes every year, so that you can't say, "Been there, done that." We want to go back next year--and I'm glad I have another book in the works with Rue. Got to bed at 12:30, bone-tired--way past my bedtime.
This morning we were at Rue's house by a little after 7:30, for a quiet, leisurely and delicious breakfast on the patio, and then home to Fort Worth by 11 a.m.
Rue and I did do a little "shop talking" during the weekend, and I did a quick inventory check at the bookstore to see what TCU Press titles they had and which ones they should have, so it was a true combination of work and pleasure--and that, I guess, is the story of my life.
We had wonderful weather for the trip, though we could see creeks and rivers--the Brazos particularly--out of their banks and in places, side or access roads under water. The rain held off and we sailed home under blue skies on an empty highway. But now, early afternoon, it's thundering again.
As always I'm glad to be home. I always am in a state of anxiety as I begin a trip, even a short one, and then come home feeling exhilarated--which is exactly what happened this time. Jeannie is a great traveling companion, and I always enjoy trips with her. As I said to her, we've had some interesting experiences--Albany, King Ranch, etc. But my trip to San Angelo for the Keltons' anniversary is apparently off--Fran's knee is not up to another long drive. Maybe one trip, even short, is all I need in a week, but already I'm wondering how to fill the holiday. Then again, knowing how my life goes, I'll find something.
Now to work. I ran by the office this morning after I got home and picked up a file I need to work on. But I do have that mystery to finish. And Jordan and Christian are coming for supper.