Hello, world! I'm back

This is my whine: I’ve had walking pneumonia for two weeks, the antibiotics were making me sick, and it hurt to walk because of the fall on my knee. The weather was gloomy, cold and rainy, which didn’t help at all. Yesterday was a low point in my existence.

This is the cheerful part: I woke about three in the morning and thought, “I feel better.” And this morning I felt almost like myself. The sick feeling is almost gone, though I was cautious about eating all day and I still took a long nap, my knee is better if not healed, and I’m not coughing much. The sun is bright and the day much warmer. By the weekend we’ll be in the 80s and we can all begin to moan and groan about summer.

When you’re miserably sick, you can’t imagine ever feeling better. When it’s gloomy and rainy, you can’t imagine it being bright and sunny. And when things do change, it’s sort of like seeing the world with brand new eyes. It makes you appreciative and grateful.

I’m tired of being home, cancelling lunches and dinners with friends. I want to get out in the world and pick up the normal threads of my life. Starting with the grocery store tomorrow.

I have been reading a novel just for the heck of it—something I don’t often find time to do—and I’ve come to a conclusion: I do NOT like rhetorical questions in a cozy mystery. One is too many; lots are lots too many. Shhh—I’ll never tell what I’m reading.

The flu, cabin fever, Nancy Drew, and the end of the world

Yesterday I said to Christian, "No, of course he doesn't have the flu. He'd feel a lot worse, achy, and his stomach would be involved." Well, that shows what a good diagnostician I am. Jacob has the flu, diagnosed by a nose swab at the doctor's office today--no wonder my brother always says, "Don't tell me if they feel hot; take the temperature." So Jacob and I are stuck with each other at least through tomorrow. He's still coughing, still has fever though lower, and is contagious. (Yes, I've had a flu shot, and I figure if I haven't gotten it by now--it started Friday when he spent the entire night breathing on me--I'm not going to; hope that's not faulty logic.)
Yesterday I had him all day; this morning he was at the doctor's most of the morning, and then Jordan came to let me keep a lunch date. And I had a good nap in the afternoon, so it wasn't hard. Tomorrow she'll come to let me take almost two hours to go to a luncheon at TCU. But Jacob and I are both tiring of each other's company, and we have cabin fever. I have a bunch of errands I'd like to get done, so I keep telling my compulsive self that the world won't end if I don't do them for a few days.
The luncheon tomorrow is one of a series sponsored by Human Rrelations and I'm looking forward to it. It's a Nancy Drew luncheon, with dishes made from recipes in the Nancy Drew Cookbook--who even knew there was such a thing? I only have one granddaughter young enough to be interested--the other two have outgrown Nancy Drew, though I don't think I did until I was twelve or so. Kids are so much more sophisticated today--blame it on social media, cell phones, iPads, and the like. That aside, I'm just interested in the whole Nancy Drew canon and am curious about the luncheon. Should be fun.
I've also gotten some work done while Jacob's been here--a new final scene to the novel I've been working on. Now to proofread it one more time, and then I'll send it off. Nice closure for the end of the year. Not starting a new proejct until January.
So life goes along, and Christmas won't be cancelled or even delayed because I may not do my errands till Friday or Saturday. The world will still revolve. Which reminds me--I was delighted to receive an invitation to a party for Skeptics and Optimists. It says,, "If the sun rises on Dec. 22, we'll party." Dec. 21 is of course the day the Mayan calendar predicts the end of the world. I feel a bit about that as I did about the millenium when it approached--a little apprehensive, not that the world will end, but that something bad could happen.. But I'm an optimist--it probably won't.
Just looked at the labels for this post--the wide array really indicates that I've rambled. Bear with me folks, it's cabin fever...and the season.

Summer, wildfires, and cabin fever

After an extended and unusually pleasant spring, it's a shock to realize that summer has come to North Texas with some of the vengeance of last year's horrific season. The top stays up on my convertible, the windows closed, the a/c on--not the way I like to drive. Yesterday, when it hit 106, the air felt like a smothering blanket when I ventured outside. My dogs spend the hottest part of the day inside. This afternoon Sophie acted like she wanted to go out, so I started toward the back door. She followed for a bit but then sat down firmly in the middle of the kitchen, as if to say, "I'm not going back out there!"
I've spent most of this week at home on my computer, and I'm beginning to get cabin fever. I had a bunch of errands that could easily have been done in one day, but I chose to do the little ones today, saving the grocery for tomorrow, so that I get out each day. The grocery is not exciting, but the clerks are pleasant and you get to talk to people. I value my solitude, and Lord knows I have plenty of work to do, but I am not a loner. I need people. To my delight Jordan and Jacob stopped in about eight this morning--Jacob demonstrated the new break-dancing techniques he'd learned at yesterday's lesson.
Being at my computer has meant that I've been glued to the reports of the apolcalyptic fires in Colorado, particularly Colorado Springs. Years and years ago (in the '70s) my brother lived there and we visited often. Then seven or so years ago, Colin and Lisa lived there, and we visited again. Both John and Colin lived close to the Garden of the Gods, and I treasure a picture of my whole family in front of the rock with Garden of the Gods written on it. From this distance, it's easy to feel dismay over the possible destruction of the Air Force Academy and the Broadmoor; it's harder to comprehend the tragic loss to so many families, with countless homes burned, the trauma of rapid evacuations, the desperation of first responders. I read that police directing evacuation traffic wore T-shirts over their faces so they could breathe in that smoke-filled air, and hospitals have treated many people with respiratory problems. I've thought of a line from Anna Quindlen's book, Lots of Cake, Plenty of Candles. "Catastrophe," she wrote, "is numerical. Loss is singular." We can pray and worry over the catastrophe, but we can never share the loss experienced by so many. Makes it seem petty to complain about 106.
I read with amusement a newspaper article about Texas food, with recipes, that purported to give author Dan Jenkins' recipe for cheese enchiladas. I emailed Dan with a comment to the effect that I didn't realize he cooked, and he wrote back to say that he doesn't. About the only cooking he does is to open a can of Wolf Brand chili. But you know, the recipe sounded kind of good. Jordan plans a Mexican potluck Friday night, and I think I might go and take an enchilada casserole. The article gave a chili recipe, but it occurs to me you could fill the enchiladas with Velveeta, as suggested--I'd add onion--and top with Wolf Brand. I'm debating whether I can do it the new way I've discovered for enchilada casseroles of any kind, by layering flat tortillas instead of softening in grease and rolling. At the least, I'll soften them in the microwave.
Life should get busier this weekend with a signing, some cooking (always fun), church, Jacob on Sunday afternoon, and company for Sunday supper.
And so the summer settles in, and so does my summer routine. Back to the manuscript I'm editing.

The World is Closed

Again, and no hope for the next two days! I don't much mind being here by myself, but I don't like the feeling that I can't jump in the car and go if I want to. I try, with medium success, to tell myself that what will be will be, and if you can't go out, you can't. I think the streets are clearing up, at least the major ones, and I would be comfortable driving, but I'm cautious about walking across my porch even to empty trash. Today I had a couple of catastrophes: my washing machine won't work, and I suspect the pipes are frozen. I called for a repair appointment, but I think I'll wait and try it Sunday night, hoping to cancel the appointment. The machine is in an add-on part of the house and not the regular, well-insulated brick portion. Then the dog ate the pie crust for the chocolate cookie pie crust I was planning to fill. I gave him stern lectures, to no avail--when allowed back in the kitchen, he busily searched for crumbs my sweeping had missed. I posted this incident on Facebook and got lots of suggestions on how to handle dogs who ate chocolate, toxic to them. But he shows no signs of distress. And he's a dog who shows distress easily when he feels it. I started from scratch and remade the pie, so the crust will be better than the one I bought.
Tonight my young neighbor next door called just to chat. Being home with a three-year-old, she had cabin fever and wondered if I did. She had gotten out with her husband and said even a ride around the neighborhood would make a difference. We had a good long visit about a lot of things, and she says they'll come for a visit tomorrow. I have invited them, with three other young couples (including Jordan and Christian), for supper Saturday night, and she says they'll take me to the grocery if need be. It's supposed to snow Friday--snow, not ice--and be middling-to-pleasant Saturday, really defrost by Sunday and SuperBowl. I do feel sorry for the merchants and people of downtown Fort Worth who worked so hard to prepare for this week--and now nobody can get out and enjoy the fun.
I've made good use of my housebound time: I finished critiquing a manuscript I was reading in the Guppies critique program, where authors are matched with others and reach each other's manuscripts.I really liked the one I read, but I had lots of comments and suggestions. Critiquing it was a learning experience for me and made me aware of things I need to correct in my writing.
I also posted a short story on Kindle--"The Art of Candle Dipping" should be up in a couple of days. It's a story that has always made me choke up the few times I've read it aloud. Based on a true account in the files of Fort Worth's Log Cabin Village. I'm puzzled though as to how to price it at 99 cents--Amazon didn't seem inclined to let me price it below $2.99, which seems a bit high for one short story. I'll have to investigate that.

Anticipating arctic temperatures

In North Texas, when they forecast sub-freezing temperatures, everyone acts like a squirrel storing up nuts for the winter. We rush to grocery stores and stock up on things we probably don't need, we make sure outdoor pipes are wrapped, we leave kitchen sink cupboards open and faucets dripping. I went out today and bought supplies so I could do some serious cooking for the freezer tomorrow--will make an ice cream pie which seems a bit ironic in this cold weather and a new bread someone gave me the recipe for. It's supposed to stay below freezing for three days, and I may not stick my nose out the door the whole time. Rain turning to freezing rain and sleet tonight and then maybe snow. I'm not driving anywhere, let along walking down the driveway to my car.
Today it was in the 50s but the anticipation of the arctic blast made me feel both a bit apprehensive and chilled all day. I was surprised when I went out to check the garage apt (and leave the faucet dripping) that it wasn't really cold out. I cleaned the dog's yard, figuring I wouldn't do it again for a couple of days, and fed the birds--well, mostly the blasted squirrels, but the birds really need sustenance in the cold. Jeannie tells me they have to eat enough all day to give them the energy to shiver all night because that's how they stay warm and alive. Sounds like a miserable existence.
It's a bit ironic that we're having this weather with the SuperBowl madness in town. Someone suggested Fort Worth was hosting the Steelers and Packers with the kind of weather they're used to. I get the feeling the ESPN folks who set up in Sundance Square expected balmier weather, but apparently they have electric blankets, heaters, etc. The city has gone wild with this--another reason to stay home. Today, TV programming was interrupted so we could all see four buses carrying the Steelers from the airport to Fort Worth's Omni Hotel--every darn inch of the way. Made for riveting TV--not! I thought it was sort of funny that the local news said the eyes of the world are focused on the Metroplex for this game, when the national news was broadcast from Cairo. Obviously a difference in focus.
A joke on me: I have repeatedly said I'd never go to SuperBowl with 95,000 wild people. But guess what? I was at the stock show Saturday with 150,000 other people. No wonder it seemed crowded.
I have plenty of work on my desk, so the next few days will find me housebound, working and cooking and napping and reading. Doesn't sound too bad. Reports on cabin fever will follow--I may call all my friends just to hear a human voice.

Too Old to be a Tekkie?

I got a new iPhone for Christmas, Lisa got an iPad and, and I was learning to add RSS feeds to my Outlook--big learning curve for both of us, Last night, Colin was going crazy, as one or the other of us called out, "Colin, I need help!" He declares that the problem with both of us is that we are impatient and want instant results. When I said I'd lost the Facebook icon on my phone, he found it. Today, he patiently walked me through adding an RSS feed again, and now I'm proficient at it. Well, sort of. I added Facebook to my phone all by myself, can take and send photos so I think I'm pretty good. I've had lots of trouble with the keypad--my fingers are too big. I bought a stylus and still rely on it a lot but I noticed today my fingers are doing better. Last night Lisa stayed up until 1:30 learning her iPad but before I went to bed she gave me a tour (on the iPad) of Central America. Then Morgan tried to show me Houston, and we got hopelessly lost in North America until we both collapsed in giggles. Jordan has announced she got a laptop for Christmas and she expects Colin's help with it tomorrow. Colin actually brags on me that for an old lady I'm a pretty quick learner for tech things--ah, triumph!

We decided we were housebound yesterday and had cabin fever, so today we went shopping--for fireworks, no less (Yes, I frowned in disapproval) and then to a clothing store where I bought a cute top I think I'll wear a lot. Later, we got out for a test run of blowing up their gingerbread houses that Colin and the children make from scratch. Apparently for the Houston Alters this is a tradition on New Year's Day, but they decided to do it early this year for the benefit of nephew Sawyer who loves explosions. I'll try to post the video below. We drove to a levee, far from houses, and did the test, which made Lisa scream and then laugh. But then everone looked for sparks that might ignite dry grass. We heard fire engines in the distance and had a moment of panic, but they were headed elsewhere. Quite an adventure for a grandmother who does not believe in fireworks in any shape or form. Besides, unless you were in the sun, it was cold as blazes out. My dog will sleep inside again tonight--too cold for even a heavy-coated Aussie.

It was a grand explosion, which has caused Colin to rethink his plan for the major explosion. The picture is of Kegan and Morgan with the test gingerbread house, the one Morgan made. She seemed quite philosophical about offering up her creation--and it was blown to smithereens. Here are the gingerbread houses before and a link to the video.

Snow--and history

This is my house after anywhere from seven to nine inches of snow--my neighbor took this early in the morning. The airport reports slightly over 12 inches, with a year total now of over 15 inches. We broke all records, but as Sue said any of us northerners nostalgic for snow ought to now remember how much trouble it is. Trees were down all over the neighborhood--my neighbors lost an old cedar, and my youpon is bent double--don't know if it will recover or not. I think it's because ours is an old neighborhood, and the trees are old.

I was snowbound for the second day, thouogh someone came to talk to me about a possible publishing project this afternoon and Jacob is spending the night, so I'm not as isolated as I was yesterday. Still I'm going to the grocery tomorrow (if Christian walks me to my car) and will be glad to get out.

Many of my neighbors were out in the snow.The boys across the street made a giant slingshot to catapult snowballs (their parents may have nixed it because I didn't see it long, but the boys were out all day doing varioius things). Sue was shoveling the walks and digging out her car. This afternoon I saw a young mother skipping down the middle of the street that deadends into my house; she was followed by a young child who couldn't quite skip but was trying. It made me nostalgic because I used to skip and play in the snow with my children but now they're too old--and so am I. I wish I had the confidence and balance to frolic in the snow once again.

Meantime I was in the house editing a manuscript called Trash History: Discoveries of an Accidental Historian, by Monte Akers. It's sort of an autobiographical wandering through American history, with chapters on Little Big Horn and and San Jacinto, both of which I know something about, and a lot about the Civil War and re-enactment, where I'm on shakier ground. (I'm editing for writing not accuracy, so it's okay and I'm learning a bit--there's so much to know about the Civil War and its battles, and Akers has done a good job). He has a theory that the current divisiveness in our country is reminiscent of the great divide after the Civil War, worse than that after Vietnam or Watergate or the impeachment of President Clinton. He is passionate about the need for healing that divide. I like his politics a lot, and I like his writing style--it's slightly ironic and satiric and he's not afraid of poking fun at himself (he does it often) but he is deadly serious about history, artifacts, politics, and honor. Look for it from Texas Tech Press in the fall. If I had to spend the last couple of days inside, working on this manuscript was a good way to do it. Actually I've been working on the manuscript for over two weeks, and tomorrow I hope to send it to the author for his reaction to my edits. I really love some of the work that comes my way.

Snowbound

After blogging last night about needing sociability for happiness, I woke up this morning looking forward to a staff meeting, lunch with the press people, and a reception at the National Cowgirl Museum to view Georgia O'Keefe paintings. But when I looked out, everything was white. There was about two inches of snow on the ground, but kids seemed to be arriving at the school across the street. I debated--did I really want to get out in this? Looked at the computer, and TCU was closed. Usually it's the ISD that closes, while TCU stays open. Then the Cowgirl called to say the reception had been rescheduled for next week. I resigned myself to a day at home--no socializing. I fiddled and piddled for much of the morning, reading emails, unloading the dishwasher, showering, essentially making busy work. About eleven I finally settled down to work and have worked fairly steadily since, going through the manuscript I'm editing for a third and, I hope, final time. To my horror I discovered that somehow the edits I made to one chapter hadn't been saved. It was fairly easy to recreate since I knew what I'd done, but still. My computer keeps telling me the file is "read only" when it is clearly not, so I save it under a new name. Somehow, I guess, in doing all that I lost something.

Back to the snow--it came down all day, and it's still snowing tonight. The picture above is my porch, scene of many happy summertime parties and dinners--looks pretty bleak. Above that is one of the photinia in my back yard, bent down to the ground by the weight of the heavy, wet snow I'm afraid they're broken, but then they needed trimming anway. The snow appears to have stopped now (8:30 p.m.) but Fort Worth/Dallas hasn't had this much snow in one day since January 1964, six months before I moved here, and we have set a record for the most snow in any winter, ever since records have been kept (something like 10.5 inches). It was beautiful today, but toward dusk I began to get a little depressed that it was still coming down.
I got out about three to move my garbage carts to their spot next to the house. The crossing guard had brought them up for me yesterday (now, that's a neighborhly gesture, and I thanked him heartily). He left them right by the gate, and I intended to move them before I got out this morning. If the ice begins to melt tomorrow, I hope to go out the back, work my way along the fence to the garage, and get to the grocery store, but I couldn't doopen the gate with the carts there. And I may not get out--it's supposed to be really bad because it will go into the upper 20s tonight and all that slush will freeze. Another day at home, but tomorrow someone is coming by at one to talk about a book and Jacob is coming to spend the night. Surely by Saturday I can get to the store!
Meeantime, my neighbor Sue, a hearty Canadian by birth and upbringing, said the snow made her feel at home, and she got out and shoveled both our walks. I urged her not to do it, pointing out that it was still coming down, but she said it would take too long to melt tomorrow if she didn't do it this afternoon. Good point. As far as I can remember, this is the first time ever since I've lived in Texas that I thought I ought to shovel my walks. Of course, I have no shovel (and am amazed Sue had one) and lifting two shovels of snow would do my back in.
Meantime I've gotten very ambitious about that manuscript, hope to finish it this weekend. My mom always told me the Lord works in mysterious ways, so maybe the snow was designed to keep me at my desk.
If anyone in the Northeast is reading that, you may justly call us snow wimps. When I lived in Chicago and Missouri, I was as at home on this stuff as Sue is today. But I was a whole lot younger. These days I don't mind driving on it--it's walking that worries me.