Living high on the hog

I didn't blog last night because it seemed I had nothing to say except that I'd been busier than ever doing I don't know what. But all kinds of things landed on my desk, from corrections to a proof to legal matters dealing with my cousin to  a book I really want to read and don't have time to immerse myself in--five-minute reading sessions are no fun.
Today, the opposite is true. I had breakfast with the Book Ladies--the monthly group of book people who sometimes talk about books and other times talk about travels and politics and grandchildren and who knows what. But it's always fun, and our numbers were strong this morning. Then lunch with friend Jean and a trip to pick up our flowers of the month.
But tonight was a rare experience. Mary Dulle generously and graciously asked me to be her guest at a wine dinner--the Cline Wine (I like the rhyme, never heard of the Cline Winery before) was cosponsored by Put a Cork in It and Lili's Bistro on Magnolia, at the Lilipad, their special events venue. I love wine, but I'm not especially good at a wine tasting because I don't much care for red wines. The menu, however, sent me into pure ecstasy.
The five-course meal began with a brie appetizer topped weith a jalapeno chutney--I'm not usually one for spicy, but this was delicious. Next came a tempura lobster salad with chilled green tea soba noodles (I'm not used to cold noodles), shredded cabbage, oven roasted tomatoes, and edamame, all tossed in a curry vinaigrette and dressed with micro-greens, Fantastic!
Next came a risotto with smoked mushrooms, roasted corn, cipollini onions and heirloom grape tomatoes. Oh so rich, but good--I barely ate half of it, saving room for the lamb and fingerling potatoes that were to follow. My lamb was just right--on the rare side of medium--topped with a salsa of fresh figs and cardamom (a spice I've loved since my mom used it in coffee cakes). The potatoes had a hint of rosemary and were crisply browned, and the plate was finished with spinach and what was supposed to be patty pan squash but looked like baby zucchini.
Dessert? Chocolate gelato topped with whipped cream, blackberries, a zinfandel reduction, and chocolate covered bacon--okay, I know it's trendy, but I didn't much like the bacon.

Photo by Mary Dulle

The meal on the whole though was wonderful--innovative and fresh combinations of flavors and textures--a true treat, and I enjoyed every minute of it, met some interesting new people--may even have sold a couple of books. What more could anyone ask?
Tomorrow back to routine--and to get some work done.

Procrastination and the good life

Today Jean and I picked up our flowers of the month--a program sponsored by the AAUW (American University Women). Jean and I exchange certificates for the year each Christmas and always have lunch before we pick up our flowers. Aren't these lovely? White roses kissed with lavender. You can't see it too well, but the vase sits on a coaster hand woven by Jean. Today we went to a classic tea room and had scoops of salad--chicken for her and tuna for me--with fruit. Fun.
This is one of those nights when I start a blog and don't know where it's going. I've had a lovely two days being lazy. Finished (for now) a major editing project, so the chore of digging into my next novel is facing me--it's been simmering in the back of my mind for a long time, but I'm a believer in that simmering process. At the same time, I'm a procrastinator, so tonight I've written a guest blog and am writing this and trying to convince myself to start on my newsletter. Once I get those first words on paper, I know the rest will come easily--it's getting started that boggles me.
But being lazy is kind of nice. This morning, by 10:30 I hadn't done a lick of work--at least at my desk. I'd watered plants, done my yoga, showered, read Facebook and the newspaper and my emails but hadn't settled down to anything serious.
Meantime I'm enjoying the feeling of not rushing, not feeling pressure. There was a blog somewhere today about the need for writers to write faster, produce more. It's true that the more books you have in print, the better each book sells. But several Sisters in Crime protested--one that quality would suffer and another that personal life would suffer. I second both arguments. I'm fairly productive--once I start a novel, I keep at it (probably what's keeping me from starting), but I don't want to sacrifice quality. And I have way too much else in my life--family and grandchildren and friends. Writing is a huge part of my life, but it's not the only thing--my children and grandchildren come first and I will always drop everything to be with one or more of them; I'll also drop things to have lunch or a glass of wine with a good friend. And sometimes, I just want to read someone else's mysteries.
It's a good life. Now on to that newsletter....

People make a huge difference

Yesterday I was feeling a bit sorry for myself because a long day stretched before me without much if any human interaction. But Sophie and I were both overjoyed when Lewis Bundock, the man who keeps my house together, came to fix a balky door and visited. Today Greg, the man who makes my flowers and lawns look good, came and also stayed to visit--Sophie and I were again overjoyed.
Then I had lunch with good friend Jean at Tokyo Cafe--yakitori and a salad--and we went to get our flowers of the month (above). We had a great visit, catching up on everthing from my trip to Hawaii to her plans to go to Italy.
Tonight, good friend Kathie Lang Allen came from Arlington and we visited over a glass of wine and then went to Miso Fusion for supper. I had a plate of red, green, and white enchiladas--way too much for me to eat, but the spinach enchilada was the best I've ever had. And we too had a good visit.
I've long said that I feed on people. Being with others energizes me, and I am a much happier camper. Left alone, I tend to fall into introspection and the doldrums. So tonight I'm upbeat, happy with the world, and optimistic. Now if I could only settle down to work.
But I can't emphasize enough how important my friends are to me. I am blessed with many, and I hope each and every one realizes how much I value them.

Getting lost in another world

Every Christmas Jean Walbridge and I exchange certificates for the flowers of the month at a local florist. This month I couldn't go with Jean to get them and the month was running out, so she picked mine up. They gave her extra roses and she shared them with me. This one is in full bloom and so beautiful it needs to be shared. I love having fresh flowers in the house!

I'm almost through with what I think is the final edit of Skeleton in a Dead Space before I send it to the publisher, but of course I know there will be more edits to come after an editor gets his or her hands on it. Still, by now I know the people and places of the novel's world so well that I get immersed in it. Familiar places, yes, since it's set in the neighborhood adjacent to mine and makes mention of restaurants where I regularly go. But also those fictional characters have come alive in my mind like old friends--I hate to leave them when I move on to other tasks. And the things I might worry about in my daily world fade when I'm in that fictional world. I hope readers will feel that way about these people and the world they live in. And I hope I can keep on creating mysteries with that feel. I'm having more fun with this writing than I think I've ever had before with projects--again, maybe that's because I'm more relaxed now.Anyway, the world is good.
Today I went to an estate sale at the home of the parents of my good friend Kathie. She and her mom were in the antique business, and her mom had many things she had bought for re-sale. She certainly had an eye for the interesting and old. I was fascinated by antique cooking tools, gardening tools, and a large collection of boxes. Jeannie kept going back to stare at a wall-mounted drying rack for clothes. But we both left empty-handed and then went and bought me an expensive but good mattress, which I really need.

We had lunch at The Tavern, where Betty and I had enjoyed brisket tacos a couple of days ago. Today I had a Maytag blue cheese burger, and Jeannie had a New Mexico burger. Both excellent, and we were both good and ate only half. I had the other half for dinner, and it was still delicious.

Back to Skeleton. Coming up to the climactic scene, which always scares me a bit, even though I wrote it!

The end of the weekend--and Halloween

Converstion of the weekend:
Jacob (4): "I want you to sit right there, Kegan."
Kegan (3): "Why?"
Jacob: "Because you're my best friend."
Kegan: "Oh, okay."
Wish I had that picture.
Second conversation of the weekend:
Edie (7): "Do you like the Aggies?"
Me: "Yes"
Edie: "Why"
Me: "Because friends of mine are Aggies and besides they're a Texas team."
Edie: "I don't like them." When pressed for a reason, she said, "Because." I told her she had to have a better reason, and she said her friend Caroline doesn't like them. I'm sure my words about having your own opinion fell on deaf ears, but I tried.
Picures from the weekend are already showing up on my desktop rotating photo screen--what a neat way to relive the fun.

My house was empty--and lonely--by ten this morning. Except for a couple of loads of wash and the dishwasher to run, it was all in order and as clean as it's going to get today. The real signs of the weekend's doings are two wonderful bouquets--one on the dining table and one on the coffee table in the living room. The living room one is from the children, with reds and pinks in vivid combination. The vase arrived in a white box with bright pink tissue fanning out all around it--to Jordan's dismay, I left it in the box, because it looks pretty. The second bouquet has more delicate pinks and lilacs with lovely strong bold yellow lillies of some kind. It's from my friend Betty Boles. Adding to my flower display--and somehow ending at the top of my row of pictures here--are my flowers of the month. Jean Walbridge and I exchange this gift every Christmas, and we just picked up our October flowers last week. I am reminded of the legendary Electra Waggoner Wharton who ordered fresh flowers throughout her cattle baron mansion every day, a luxury I surely cannot afford. But I am much enjoying these.
I'm spending the rest of the day reading emails and reading a book on social media for writers. Oh, I'll probably sneak a bit of novel reading in there too. All study and no fun will make Judy dull--or bored. Made up for all those heavy meals this weekend with tuna, hearts of palm, and hummus for lunch.
I have never been one to get enthusiastic about Halloween. Oh, I did it full tilt when the kids were little, but now, living alone, I just can't get excited about giving out candy to boys who are bigger than I am. For several years, Texas Book Festival was the same weekend, so I missed it. But tonight, I went next door to Jay and Susan's, and among other things had a great bowl of stew. I had three bags of candy to contribute, which turned out to be a paltry contribution. Jay says they spent $80 on candy. We live in one of those neighborhoods where carloads of kids are brought in from less fortunate neighborhoods. Almost uniformly, the kids are as polite as can be, and if they forget their parents are quick to remind them to say thank you. Jay estimates he had at least 300 tricksters before he ran out and turned out the lights. Some costumes were cute, some obviously home-made with loving care, and many store-bought--we saw several repeats of the same costumes. Really tiny kids were held by parents and helped up the steps, but still some stumbled and we held our breath collectively. It was, however, a pleasant way to spend the evening instead of hiding in the dark all evening as I've sometimes done.
I'm amazed at me, the non-sports fan, but I really feel the suspense about the Rangers games, though I don't watch. And I'm interested in how TCU, UT, and the Aggies do. I guess it's Texas patriotism coming  to the fore. Such an unusual year--UT and the Aggies doing poorly, though the latter have redeemed themselves the last couple of games, TCU and (I think) SMU in the top ten, Barylor beating UT, and the Rangers in the World Series. As one person  said on Facebook, "Hell has now officially froizen over." Still, it's fun, and I'm anxious to hear how the Rangers do tonight.

Being post-fifty and post- everything else

Today I replaced the cyclamen in my planter boxes. Cyclamen does beautifully through the winter, with bright blooms, but it doesn't like Texas summers. I bought caladium, though to me they are sort of ho-hum ordinary. I couldn't come up with anything more creative that would grow in my shade-only boxes, and really the caladium look pretty. Don't you think? I also bought more basil for a pot in which basil flourished two years ago and died last summer, And tonight Jean brought me cut flowers from their garden, so I'm surrounded by lovely things. Here are Jean's flowers and one of my planter boxes.

It was a dark and stormy night . . . not a great way to begin a novel, but it sure describes what's happening here tonight. Our hundred degree temperature plunged to 71 when the wind came up about 6:30. My dinner guests and I had abandoned the porch as too hot, and I kind of wished we'd go out there to dine, but then it was too windy. Then just about eight, they all left hurriedly fearing the coming storm. I brought in the dog--a big fraidy-cat--and then walked out on the porch to enjoy the storm winds. I love a good storm. Charles rushed home because his daughter, only a few years younger than me, is visiting, and he wanted to be there when she came home from dinner--she's frightened by storms. I would have sent him anyway because he doesn't need to be driving on a dark, stormy night.

All this talk on the Sisters in Crime listserv about post-menopausal women and life after 50 keeps reverberating in my head. One woman, now 71, wrote that in the last twenty years everything about her life has been better than ever. And I wrote to agree with her. I think I'm happier and more content than I ever was but I also have more confidence that I can do what I want to accomplish (write and publish that mystery!) and that most of the time my instincts are dead on (I recognize that's a dangerous presumption). I like my life--my family, my own work, my job work, my house, everything.

Which reminds me that I recently saw a query about "Has your life turned out like you thought?" Not at all. A child of the fifties, I expected to get married and some man would take care of me. That obviously did not work out well at all. I had as my model Browning's wonderful line from Rabbi Ben Ezra: "Grow old along with me/The best of life is yet to be/The last for which the first was made." Do I regret being single at 70? Minimally. Sometimes I'd like someone to go to dinner, exhibits, things that I mostly skip now because I don't like going alone. And yeah, sometimes I'd like that comforting hug that only comes from a long-term partner. But being alone has its compensations, and I've made the most of them without much regret. Children? I never really thought about them, but they've been so central to my life. They are the core of everything I am. Grandchildren are icing on that cake. Career? Although I read The Feminine Mystique cover to cover, I didn't think about a career. And in this enlightened age, I'm ashamed to say I didn't think about it until I was divorced. But I've had a wonderful dual career as a publisher and an author--and its far from over just because I'm turning 70. No, my life didn't turn out like I thought it would--just much better!

Since I'm being so profound, I have another thought--people often aren't what you imagine them to be before you meet them. An author came to town last week--we'd e-mailed and talked on the phone but never met. She was so incredibly businesslike and efficient that I expected someone sleek and intimidating--and here came this motherly, warm woman with a twinkling sense of humor in her eyes and a great willingness to be friends. We met with the provost and the director of TCU's Energy Institue, and I loved it that she kept calling them "Guys." After the meeting we went to lunch and found ourselves sharing stories of our past marriages and lives. What a neat experience.

The rain has come, but it's not a storm. Thunder is rumbling in the distance, but the rain is a nice soaking one. Hope it lasts all night. We should be so lucky! Texas is once again worrying through a dry season.

Stuff

When I send my kids emails about a lot of things, I always put "stuff" in the tagline, and that's what this email is about--stuff.
First, amaryllis. Two friends sent me amaryllis bulbs for Christmas, and both have bloomed beautifully. Jordan took pictures of one before we went to Houston, and I was so glad, because by the time we came back, the blooms had drooped. Every year I tell myself I'm going to plant the bulbs, but I never do. One year I put them in the refrigerator, and then read that you should never put them in a fridge with apples, because apples do something bad to them. Too late--they were already in there with the apples that I almost never keep on hand. Maybe this is the year to plant them.
Jordan, Jacob, and I had a delightful weekend in Kingwood, outside Houston. I'm so lucky that she and I like to travel together and giggle a lot. Jacob proved to be a good traveler, except one time when he got way too hot in the back seat and was furious. And about a mile from home he decided he was ravenous, so I was leaning over the back of my seat, shoving a bottle in his little face.
The Houston Alters are flourishing--their house is spacious and comfortable, the suburb charming because it has lots of those pine trees you find north of Houston, and their baby, Morgan, a pistol. She was sweet with Jacob, petting him and sharing things--and then Sunday morning, it was like it all fell apart and she dissolved in tears. I think she was saying, "Enough already! I've shared. How long does this go on?" It was good training for her in anticipation of the baby brother expected in April. Morgan is really well behaved and every morning about ten takes herself off to nap--most of us would have done flips to have a baby do that. We went to a real Kosher deli (my request, and I loved the chopped liver), visited with Lisa's family, giggled our way through an amazing diaper disaster, and generally had a marvelous time. Colin and Lisa are great hosts, and Lisa wore herself out fixing a wonderful fajita dinner for ten of us Saturday night. On the way down and back, Jordan and I stopped at Sam's in Fairfield, a restaurant that I swear is one of the biggest buffets ever--good food, clean restrooms, a clean changing table. Who could want more?
But Monday morning I was back in the world of books and publishing. Monday night, Susan, the press editor, and I co-taught a class called "The World of Publishing." Actually it's four sessions, and last night, the third, was on New York publishing. We had author Carlton Stowers and his agent, who shall remain nameless for his own protections. They painted a realistic but grim picture--New York is where the money is, but it's so much a business now and not an art. If you've published before, a publisher will look up your sales at Barnes & Noble and Border's; not good? You haven't a chance. If you're unpublished, you have a better chance--but if that first book fails, forget it. I began to see my mystery fading into the woodwork. But today, the agent, said in an email that he thought quality still matters. If you can write really well, he said, there's someone out there to help you. Not necessariliy him, because he's busy out the kazoo, but he has agreed to look at a proposal for my mystery.
And that's my big accomplishment: I finished the first draft of the mystery tonight. I had been avoiding it, even to the point that I wrote the first pages of a second volume before I wrote the end of the first one. I knew where it was going, but I was literally scared of it. It involved a physical fight between two women, and having never been in a fight I wasn't sure how to handle it. Jordan suggested taekwando, but I decided that was too pat and eventually gave the heroine great strength from doing pilates. I don't really know many women who do martial arts, but I know a lot who do pilates. Anyway, the novel is done and is 69,920 words--close to the magic 70,000, which it will surpass with rewrites. I feel a great sense of relief. though I have no idea if the fight scene works. I really tried not to rush through it but instead to linger on the emotions, the feelings, the fear. Tomorrow, I'll print the whole thing out and begin the rewrite process. You know what, it's fun!