Dogs and Men

Jacob and Sophie

My wonderful birthday weekend included a two-day visit to my younger son's new home and special time with his famly amd ended with a lovely gathering at my house, of neighbors and people I care about, put together by Jordan and my neighbor Jay (who baked a scrumptious cake). We were also celebrating his wife, Susan's birthday. So I was surrounded by wonderful people and thoroughly enjoyed the evening.
But it ended on a sour note after everyone but Jay and Susan and her dad had left. I went to put my dogs out--they'd been in because of the heat--and my big dog couldn't stand. His back legs kept splaying out from under him. Jay carried him outside, by which time the poor dog was shaking visibly. Long story short, Jay and I, with Scooby, ended up at the emergency animal care clinic about 8:45. Their probable diagnosis was toxicity--he'd gotten hold of something. I couldn't believe that but we waited for blood work results, which eventually were all good--no organs damaged. While we waited, Jay lay on the floor and loved on Scooby who finally began demanding affection and kissing him lavishly. Jay is what I call "a dog person," and it clearly showed last night--he really cared about Scooby. Meanwhile Jay also joked, poked fun at me, and was, in a word, outrageous. When the doctor came in with lab results, Jay was on the floor demonstrating a yoga pose. We left the dog to be "stabilized" with fluids, lasix, steroids, etc. On the way home, I said to Jay that I knew he kept cutting up to keep me from dissolving in a puddle, and he admitted there was usually a method to his madness. But I can't say enough for his kindness and attentiveness--I offered to go in my car so he didn't have to wait, but he wouldn't hear of it. He was right, of course, that I was on the verge of tears, and he steered me in a better direction. Other than loyal and loving children, there's nothing better than a good neighbor, and I am fortunate.
This morning I got Scooby from the emergency clinic--he was a bit better--and took him to my vet, who says he thinks it's a recurrence of his idiopathic vestiubular disease (it's like meuniere's disease in humans) and we'd just have to let him lie low for a couple of days. So Scooby is snoozing away at the vet's, and I am encouraged. He's an old dog, and I know one day one of these episodes will be the last, but he'd been enjoying life so much I couldn't face it last night. Another neighbor, Greg, had just commented Friday that Sophie, the little dog, has added years to Scooby's life. Friday the two of them were playing and  mock growling all around Greg's feet while he was trimming bushes. Nope, that dog isn't ready to go--and I'm not ready to lose him.
Today I felt the hangover of the trauma. It had even been an act of something on my part to transfer Scooby from vet to vet alone, so I was wiped out and not much good at anything. Sophie, bless her, put the icing on the cake this afternoon. I went to bring her in for her mid-day meal and a nap while it was hot, but she wouldn't come and obviously had something in her mouth she didn't want to relinquish. Finally she darted in the open door and made a beeline for the study, where I could corner her. But if I went to one side of the desk, she scooted under it to the other--and so it went. We were at a stalemate, in spite of my stern commands to "Drop it!" She finally did, and a pitiful baby bird gave a weak flutter. I put Sophie in her crate, gathered a handful of paper towels and disposed of the bird, and decided I really really needed a nap.
Tomorrow, I'm certain, will be a better day--and maybe I'll get some work done. But meantime, I entered into another senior year with great joy.

May I exchange this day, please?

My day got off on the wrong foot. I got up early because I couldn't sleep and my thoughts were disturbing me. Probably I was grumpy, and my later troubles may have ensued from Sophie picking up on that. Morning routine--feed cat, take puppy out, feed big dog. All done. Fed the puppy in the kitchen, noticed she was sniffing suspiciously, and took her out. Big dog distracted her--no results. Brought her in and she immediately pooped in the kitchen. Finally made it, with puppy and coffee, to the office where I discovered the cat had left not puddles but lakes in "his" bathroom off the office. Closed the door and resolved to deal with it later. Then my email was down--TCU was having server problems. So I decided to put the puppy in her crate and do my chores, including cleaning that bathroom. I scrubbed it from top to bottom, emptied and scrubbed the litter box, and finally scrubbed me. By 9 a.m. when the internet came back up, I was ready to go back to bed.
No such luck--had to go to Petco for supplies and then to a doctor's appointment. Noon, and I was ready to go back to bed once again. Still no such luck. Emails to answer, a talk to prepare, this that and the other to get done. Note: no writing. Yikes! But I finally did put everyone down and get a nap. This is my last week of long afternoon naps. Next Monday I start picking Jacob up every day at three o'clock.
Tonight I'm watching Sophie like a hawk. Took her out for a long while after her supper but nada. I'm thinking the trick may be to put her in her crate--then when I take her out, she's used to going outside to pee. The other is another matter. She settled down for a while--after some scolding about going near wires--to play with her toys as if to say, "Look how good I can be." Now she's running around the office (not that large a space) like a crazy thing, working off all that energy she didn't run off outside tonight.
I've decided creativity is gone for the day. I'm going to read Susan Schreyer's An Error in Judgment.
Did have a nice dinner party last night--the family directly behind me has a 5-year-old boy, Sam, who will be going to kindergarten with Jacob, (and a three-year-old named Alex) so we invited them to supper so the boys could get acquainted, which they did after a few minutes shyness. I fixed crockpot barbecue for ten (including three little boys), baked beans (Bush's are soooo good, though next time I won't try those with maple syrup since they're a bit too sweet), and a potato chip and onion soup dip for appetizer. Susan brought a delicious salad with apples and raisins and spinach, and Sue joined us, so it was a bit like the old neighborhood group. Before I knew it, it was 8:30 and everyone was rushing off to get little ones to bed. Sue said later that she loved having the house so full of "boy energy." The girls--Jordan, Susan and Sue--did much of the basic kitchen clean-up for me, and Jordan took Sophie out. She has consistently been a huge help with Sophie.
A PS to the Sophie story: I decided after she ws so wild, it was a good time to take her out. She pooped, and I praised. Then I walked her around where she usually pees--forever. No result, so I left her alone in the office for two minutes while I got a glass of wine--and she peed. The appropriate end to this day.

Two days in a nunnery

This is the second day of the rest of my life, and I do feel like I've had two days in a nunnery--although the routine hasn't been quite that rigorous. I've had good food, a bit of wine, naps, and of course I slept late. But still I've stayed home alone, no makeup, working. Today no phone calls, though Lewis Bundock came by because I had a small list of little things that were broken around the house--like the screen door to the guest apartment, the commode in my office bathroom, etc. Our puzzle for the day--I found a piece of oak that looked to me like it had come off the round oak table in the family room--and I found it under that table. Lewis examed it thoroughly and announced everything that was supposed to be on the table was there. We cannot for the life of us figure out what piece of furniture it came from, but he warned me to keep it. My "junk" drawer is full to overflowing.
Tonight I added a bit of excitement to the day by setting off my alarm. I heard my new neighbor take garbage carts down. Several days ago he gave me a book he's written, signed to me, and I told him I'd give him one of my cookbooks, Cooking My Way Through Life with Kids and Books, in return. Tonight when I went out to give it to him and stood and chatted a bit, I forgot that I'd already set the alarm. When I came in, it was going full blast. I called, assured the service I was okay, and asked them to cancel the police call. A few minutes later I heard a pounding on the door and thought, "Oh, gosh, it's the police, and there comes another $50 fine for a false alarm." It was Jay. He was out in his driveway, heard the alarm, called and I didn't answer (of course not, I was out on the porch), then called both Jordan and Christian, neither of whom answered. So armed with his cell phone, he came charging over. I truly appreciate the concern. But while we were talking at the door, the blasted alarm went off again, because I'd reset it. With some embarrassment, I called the service again.
Otherwise it was a satisfying day of work. I spent a lot of it with the manuscript I'm reading for a friend, did some reading in a novel, and then worked on my own novel. I keep rewriting those first 10,000 words and now have them up to 12,500--but it's time to move the story forward. I have some notes and some general ideas, but I'm not one to outline in detail. I write as it occurs to me. So that will be my challenge tomorrow.
When I first retired, one of my panicky thoughts was of waking up in the morning and thinking, "Omigosh, what will I do today." A day without companionship of some kind loomed long and lonely before me. But I think I've mellowed into it. I knew what I was going to do today and did it.
One more day at home, but with dinner with Betty tomorrow night; then a meeting and a lunch Thursday, grocery shopping and lunch Friday. Usually I have more lunch plans than this week, so it's been sort of an aberration. But I'm doing well--and enjoying my tuna fish sandwiches. I think moving away from TCU Press is a positive step in the long run.

What did you cook today?

Sundays always bring out the cook in me, or maybe weekends do. Last night I fixed one of my favorite meals--stir-fried asparagus, onion, mushrooms, and tomatoes (you have a huge plate of vegetables before you know it). Took them out of the pan and sauteed bay scallops, with nothing more than salt and pepper. I used to add soy or lemon or something to them, but they are so good just by themselves. Ate the whole huge plate and loved it.
This morning I made a do-ahead dish to take to Sue tonight at her new house. She had thought her kids would be with their father, but they weren't, and I had only brought two servings of a veggie dish they probably wouldn't like. I sauteed a bit of thyme (too little), a bit of red peppr (I'm very cautious with crushed red pepper but even I admit I could have used more), onion, and capers--in retrospect I would do the spices and capers first, then add the onion because it releases liquid. When the onions were soft I added some diced, cooked potatoes (I had fried them for extra effect but it got lost in the final dish), a can of fire-roasted tomatoes, and a can of artichoke hearts. I didn't know if fire roasted meant spicy or not, so I tasted them before I cooked the red pepper. But I really couldn't tell much difference between them and diced tomatoes in sauce. Anyway you cook this a bit and then can refrigerate until serving time.
At suppertime, make wells with a spoon for two eggs per person and break eggs into the wells. Bake at 375 for 12-15 minutes or until eggs are set as you want them. Sprinkle with Parmesan and serve. It ended up being the kind of dinner you soak baguette slices in to get the last of the juice--really good, very tomato-ey.
Sue has done a remarkable job in 24 hours of making her house liveable. It's bigger than her house next door to me (which is good with one teenager and one about-to-be) but she has room to buy furniture, which makes me a bit jealous. I occasionally see pieces I'd like to have but there's simply no room in my house. Sue's new house is a 1940s model (I think that's what she said) so it lacks the charm of her 1920s house by me but makes up for it in many other ways--space, a family room, a huge deck out back, a large room she can use as an office, and a much bigger kitchen. She'll settle in, get into a routine, and be very happy, though I'm sure we'll continue to see her.
My main accomplishment for the day was not culinary. It was getting the edited Trash History manuscript, with notes and captions, off to the publisher. Not that I don't have a lot of projects on my desk, but this one was huge, and I was pleased to get it off.
I'm going to read a mystery and worry about the othr projects tomorrow. Maybe Trash Hisstory has put the Gone with The Wind philosophy in my mind.

Kay Bailey Hutchison

No, folks, this isn't a political post. I'm worried about Kay Bailey, because I like her. I don't like her politics, don't particualrly want her to be governor, won't vote for her (although I considered it just to vote against Rick Perry, who has been in office way too long and whose claims about how wonderfully Texas is doing ring false against our educational standing, health care programs, etc.). But all that's neither here nor there. I have the feeling that if Kay Bailey and I sat down together to talk about children and grandchildren, we'd find ourselves friends. I admire and respect her, because she obviously believes in her stand on Texas and what she could do for it, and she worked hard to get to the U. S. Senate and while she was there. I think she's a dedicated public servant, if that's not an oxymoron any more.
But here's why I'm worried: she's up against Mr. Goodhair who oozes charisma and confidence (hard for me to see since I dislike his policies, but I know it's true--a lot of Texans think he hung the moon; then again, he only got 37% or something of the last vote, not exactly a roaring vote of confidence). But Kay (if I may be so familiar) has got to spark up her act. She always looks tired and slightly sad when she talks about the issues. I get no sense of an inner core of vitality, even when I'm cheering for her. I hate to get personal about this, but she needs a make-over. It's probaby too late for a facelift (and I'm opposed to those anyway, even having had cosmetic surgery for the inherited turkey wattles at my chin). But her hair, her clothes, and her makeup could be brightened. And then, oh really, she needs a coach to help her come across as more vital, more active, more optimistic. Surely I want her to beat Perry in the primary, but polls are not looking good. In my simple-minded way, the above is the solution for her, but she needs to do it tomorrow. Good luck, Kay.
Somehow today it took me all morning to go to Central Market,unload the dishwasher, do my yoga,shower, etc. But tonight I had a lovely dinner and really fun visit with Sue. She fixed short ribs (which I've never fixed and am not sure I've ever eaten before, but they were delicious), wonderful sauteed tiny new potatoes, and asparugs, and we chattered and chattered. She brightened what I thought would be a long Sunday, and I know I'm going to miss her a lot when she moves.

Stuff

When I email my kids, I often put "Stuff" in the subject line. It drives Jordan wild, because she doesn't like to deal with more than one topic at a time. But this post is about "stuff."

My friend Gayla was waxing eloquent the other day about her collie--a dog that needed rescuing and I found for her and she is now desperately attached to. When I first "interviewed" Eppi (her name as something else then), she had been shaved, and I couldn't tell for sure what she would look like. (Gayla had sent me to interview the dog, which was one of the funnier tasks I've been assigned.) But Gayla has let her coat grow out and she is a magnificent, regal mahoghany collie. I replied that majestic was a word we'd never apply to Scooby, but he looks so cute in his summer haircut (a long coat doesn't do for him what it does for Eppi--just makes him look shaggy in summer). So here's my best attempt to capture a picture of how cute Scooby is. Okay, one of us moved, and the picture is fuzzy, for which I apologize--but he really is a beautiful example of an Australian sheperd, and he lives up to the breed's reputation for energy. At nine, he thinks he's two.

I'm doing well on Weight Watchers (big deal--after three days), so it's kind of ironic to send folks to a site with a gravy recipe. But there is a champagne/mushroom gravy recipe on a blog I follow regularly that, even though I haven't tried it, sounds wonderful. If you're interested, google "The Diva Dishes." Krista Davis writes mysteries, and her first--The Diva Runs Out of Thyme--was a real treat. Her blog is full of helpful cooking hints, and I'm sure she'd welcome new readers. The gravy is on the post for Wednesday, April 22. Sounds like it would be wonderful on a roasted chicken breast. I always dislike dry chicken. Hmmm--wonder how many points that gravy adds. I was gratified today to learn that mushrooms, pickles, and sugar snap peas don't add points. I had leftover pork tenderloin (again!) for supper, with sauteed mushrooms and snap peas--and yes, I counted the Tbsp. of butter I used.

It was Texas summer hot today, or almost--in the mid-80s. Sue came over about seven-thirty tonight, and we chatted over wine on the porch. It's been too long since we've caught up with each other, but it was so lovely to sit on the porch, even with the wind blowing fairly strongly.

I've been consumed with office work this week and haven't gotten back to my manuscript. I feel as though I am always justifying why I haven't written, but it does occur to me that ideas percolate around in my brain. Today I was to have lunch with Fred and get his opinion on my latest plot twists, but he came up sick this morning. So I emailed him. I think, of course, that what would give me that final push is something positive about the first novel, which has now been with a publisher for 3-1/2 months. I would think that's a good sign. I find I do rejections quickly but true acquisitions take longer. And that's one of my problems at the office--I'm in the midst of presenting acquisitions to the board and finding really diverse reactions. But for my own manuscript, I'm afraid to be that optimistic. Writing is sure a lot more than putting words on paper.

A typical spring Saturday

Saturdays in spring are special--lazy, comfortable, all that. Today I rushed around and went to the grocery and vet (for that expensive weight management dog food) and then the nursery where I bought double blossom impatiens (I'm not a big fan of impatiens but it does well in shade and double blossom is different than the usual kind) and some sweet potato plants to put with it in my planter boxes, which face north. Planted hens and checks in the bird feeder that I bought and then realized I didn't want to feed every squirrel and grackle in Tarrant County. Those succulents are about the only thing with shallow enough roots to do well in that feeder. And I finally got my basil into a pot in a sunny location. One remaining chore: epoxy the decorative birds to the feeder before Jacob takes one off and smashes it. I'm always a bit afraid of epoxy--I think I fear I will glue my fingers together.
Last night I fixed myself Dover sole, one of my staples, and had a piece left over that, yeah, I could have eaten, but I didn't need too. So today it made a great sandwich with a slice of tomato, a slice of onion, and some mayo on rye bread. But as I was walking through the dining room lunch in hand I glanced out the window and saw Jay climbing an impossible-to-climb fence. Then, holding on to the side of his house, he walked along the top of the fence between us. I held by breath until he was safely on the ground, and then I clapped but they didn't hear me. He and Susan had brought the tall stalk of a dead cactus bloom (I do mean tall--24 ft.) around and tied it to the fence by their bird feeder so the birds could feed on the seeds or dead blossoms or whatever. It does look sort of weird, but I'll watch to see if birds come to it.
Tonight, Jay and Susan and I went to Jordan's for happy hour--and to give Jordan a copy of the cookbook. Her friend, Addie, spent a long time leafing through it, going "oooh" and "aaah--that makes me hungry" so of course each time I wanted to know what recipe she was looking at. I was tickled that none of them seemed to read the narrative, memoir parts. I had taken southwestern tuna (out of the book) and a block of cheese from Cabot Creamery in Vermont. On the way out I told Jay and Susan I wanted us to taste this aged white cheddar because the creamery had contracted me about supply cheese for an event as part of their publicity program. Jay, a Vermont native, knew all about it and said he orders it all the time. And it was delicious.
By 7:30 I was ravenous, even though I'd snacked. All I could think about was getting home and fixing some supper. Our trip home was marred because Jay got a call that a good friend, who has been ill, was in the ER. But I came home and grilled a chopped sirloin burger and made an avocado/blue cheese/tomato salad with lemon. I'm now feeling a little less ravenous.
I did pick up 24 doz. cookies today for tomorrow's event, and Jeannie came and got them, the case of wine I had, and the paper towels. I am so worried about the fact that she's knocking herself out over this event, and I don't seem to be doing much. But Jeannie is the party planner par excellence--she knows what she's doing, and my sense is she wants to be left alone to do it, asks for help when she needs it. We'll leave about 11:30 in the morning for a 2:00 p.m. event. We're supposed to have sunny weather tomorrow.