A recluse blessed with friends

I have been blessed by a lifetime filled with good friends—some of us are finding we’ve been hanging out together for almost forty years; others have come into my fold within the last ten years or less. All have been wonderful during my recent housebound phase when I could not put weight on my broken leg. They came to visit, probably in itself the most important gift I could have; they brought food; they offered to help with various chores. I won’t try to name them all because I would surely leave some out.

This week, my longtime friend Carol Roark has marched to the front of the pack, taking me to overdue appointments—the dentist, the podiatrist, and a mammogram. Plus in Carol’s care, I’ve been out to lunch and dinner in one day—living the high life.

Carol is not an easy caretaker. Yesterday she gently bullied me into using the walker.
A trip with the walker scares me because it begins with the ramp at my front door. The walker goes downhill faster than I want it to. Yesterday Carol went in front of me, acting as a brake. This morning Lewis said he wouldn’t be a brake but would be a bumper. I made it to the car both times.

Yesterday with the walker I went from car to imaging clinic to mammography room and back again, though I was shaky when I got back in the car, either from nerves or exhaustion, though I would like to think that small bit of effort didn’t exhaust me. For the podiatrist and lunch, I asked Carol to use the wheelchair.

But today I walked across the parking lot and into the dentist office. This was double jeopardy because dental appointments always make me shaky—like everyone my age, I grew up in an era when dentistry was brutal. I had particularly bad teeth and a taciturn dentist, a distant relative—not a cool combination. At any rate, after an hour and a half getting my teeth cleaned, walking was an effort of will for me. So was going back up the ramp, though Carol was an efficient godsend.

The relief I felt when finally settled in my cottage, at my desk, gave me food for thought. I am safe here and happy and not anxious. The temptation to become a recluse is strong. I still love to go to restaurants, but sometimes I find myself wishing I was in the cottage. I think, however, that becoming more reclusive is a path to aging, and I’ll have to resist it and to stop being so fussy about what interests me and what doesn’t.

Carol said my new blog is in part about aging gracefully, and she is helping me do that. Staying in my comfortable cottage is not part of that plan. Lesson learned.

What hat am I wearing today?

Some days I feel like I wear a number of different hats. Today was one such day. It began with a dental appt. at 9:50--only the hygienist called at eight and wanted to know if I could be there by nine. I actually made it, throwing on yesterday's clothes, and was there ten minutes early. What I expected to be a long appointment wasn't, even with x-rays and a visit from the dentist. I was home shortly after ten, cleaned up odds and ends, had an early lunch and took a really early nap--noon--so I could be ready to go to a 2:00 funeral at the church.
Toni Newton was the assistant (read executive secretary, though I'm not sure she ever attained that title) for Chancellors Moudy and Tucker at TCU. I met her when my office was in the administration building but then I got to know her through church, the Church and the Arts Committee (which she claimed had more fun than any other committee--and she was right). Toni was one of the most upbeat people I've ever met--always cheerful, always welcoming, always concerned about you. Many of us said today, "Toni was always so good to me," but I always added, "and she was so good to my children." Once in high school my oldest daughter wanted to join the church, but she had never been baptized (long story) and didn't like the idea of immersion. Toni told her, "Oh, honey, just fudge. God won't care." She lived a full life, dying Nov. 22 at 97--someone said "Leave it to Toni to die on a day of national significance." For me, it was hard to see that wonderful, vibrant life summed up in a brief memorial service--but I was glad I went.
Home for a few minutes, intending to get Jacob and a friend by 4:15 but Jay came by with wine in his hand, and it was five before I got the boys and started them on homework--first we had to go back to Hayes' house because Jacob left his binder with all his homework. They actually worked diligently (well, pretty much) and I wonder if there might not be something to this shared homework. Then we went to meet the neighbors at the Grill--a big crowd. To my great joy both boys were well behaved, ate well, and didn't cause any fusses.
Hayes' parents came for him about 8:45--they'd been to a party--and it's all quiet now. Jacob is getting a last few minutes on his iPad.
Is it okay if I go to sleep as early as he does? I'm tired, but it's kind of nice to wear different hats--except maybe for the dentist. Nice as those people are, I always dread it, a hangover from my childhood. Otherwise, though I felt hurried, it was a good day.

Wild days, Wild days

Emily Dickinson may have written about "Wild Nights, Wild Nights," but I had no such luxury. Instead I had a wild day day. First of all, I can't go out my front door and lock it. I can go in and I can  lock it from the inside, but can't lock it from outside, so I go out the backdoor--a bit of a nuisance. Then we had driveway congestion this morning, and I had to wait for Jordan to get back from taking Jacob to school before I could leave for a dental appointment. Then I was 30 minutes early for my appointment--me, who has no patience for waiting in a doctor's office. And long story short, I was there two hours for a simple cleaning--their schedule and not my mouth was the problem but I was at the point I wanted to say, "I don't care what you do, just get me out of here!"
Then I realized I'd pulled my car up too close to the electric gate--when I left for lunch I wouldn't be able to get out the gate from the backyard. So I went to move the car, judged the distance, and thought it would probably be all right. It wasn't. The gate hit the car and stopped. I hit the opener again, thinking it would close. It didn't. It kept trying to open. and then it wouldn't do anything. So I had essentially broken the gate. I locked it manually. It will be fixed first thing in the morning but my contractor who keeps my house together essentially said, "Please don't try to do it yourself." I asked if that's because I screwed everything up and he said, "Well, partly." When I called him I said, "This is disaster-a-day-Alter." Not sure he was amused.
Then I ordered ebooks from Amazon and couldn't get my Kindle to work. Finally did work that one out all by myself tonight but the books haven't arrived yet.
Oh, and the accountant tells me I goofed by not sending my estimated return certified with return request, so now I have to call the IRS and ask why the check hasn't cleared the bank. He advises patience in making such calls. He's new, doesn't know me well, so I explained patience is not my long suit. I'll arm myself with a book and make the call.
Every day has its bright spots: enjoyable lunch with two friends, and I'll be eating with the neighbors at the Old Neighborhood Grill tonight. Then I'm going to pull the covers over my head and start over again tomorrow.

My fragile day

I allowed myself to be fragile today, knowing I'll be back to normal tomorrow. Got up at six o'clock, which is at least a half an hour too early for me, in order to make a 7:30 dental appt. Was in the dentist's chair until ten, with lots of drilling. They tell me after you've been in the chair, tilted back, for so long, it's not unusual to take a bit to get your "land legs" back under you and I did. I also felt exhausted, though I really practiced yoga relaxation techniques in the chair. Still it stayed with me through an otherwise pleasant day.
Lunch with Jean, who leaves this week for an almost three-week trip to England, a nap, and then out to Arlington with Carol Roark for dinner at Kathie Lang's. Carol, who works in Dallas, took the train to FW and then came to get me, was also exhausted, having gotten home from New Mexico and eleven last night and gotten up at her usual five or five-thirty this morning. So we didn't stay long. But Kathie fixed, as usual, a wonderful summer meal--chicken salad, herbed tomatoes, and sauteed asparagus. I tried to ignore the blue cheese in the appetizer tray and eat only the raspberries and pear slices but had to have some of the blue cheese--the tray looked so pretty and was such a tasteful combination. I'm going to remember that one. We three old friends had a good visit that ranged over everything from anticipated babies to aging parents--neither one of which relates to me at the time.
Bummer news of the week: I gained three ounces last week, going the wrong way. I am definitely on a plateau! But I think that's not bad considering the extravagant cooking class dinner I had and last night's pasta supper, before which I nibbled too liberally on the manchego cheese. So I'm off to a better start this week, I hope.

Rejection, yoga and the dentist

In late September, I queried an agent about my first mystery--I changed the title from Dead Space to Skeleton in a Dead Space. I thought that would be magic, but it wasn't. The agent responded by return email asking to see the full manuscript--that's unusual, and it was my first request for a full. Uusally agents if they are at all interested only want 30 pages. But today she rejected it--kindly, saying she liked the heroine, my writing, the premise, but it dragged in spots and didn't hold her as a reader. When I wrote to thank her for quick respone and kind words, she replied she was sure I would find a home for it, that her reaction was purely subjective--which is probably true. Who knows what kind of a mood she was in or how pressured when she read it. But I don't know whether I'm encouraged or discouraged--I'm eating chocolate just in case. I can't decide whether to read it one more time--I cannot tell you how many times I've read it--looking for "dead spaces" in the text or to move on to the half-written sequel, which I've ignored of late.
I thought maybe a yoga session would sort my thoughts out. It didn't. But it was encouraging. Elizabeth, my friend/instructor, keeps telling me every day is a different day. One day you can do a pose perfectly and the next you might fall on your face if you tried it. Yesterday morning, nervous about my big adventure to the Cowgirl, I did my routine--and did awfully at many poses, felt my muscles quiver where they don't usually, forgot some aspects of poses and of the routine, etc. and did not feel relaxed at all at the end of it. Today, in spite of rejection and a trip to the dentist, I did soooo much better--in fact, I think if Elizabeth had been here she would have told me my form was really good. Funny--or maybe not--how your mind affects the function of your body. I guess I more than others should now that by now.
I did go to the dentist with much less trepidation that I had about going to the Cowgirl (go figure--makes no sense; I used to go to the Cowgirl all the time). And I'm now the proud new owner of a gold crown that feels quite comfortable.Got to go back at 7:45 Thursday a.m. for gum cleaning and a few days later for a regular cleaning. Seems I'm spending a lot of time in the dentist's chair, not my favorite place.
I'm in the midst of another absorbing mystery--not my own--so I'm going to read and ignore mine one more day. Tomorrow I'll have lunch with Fred, my mentor, and maybe he'll have wonderful words of encouragement. He thinks we're celebrating the request of a full manuscript. Hah!