Post-Christmas retrospect

The Alters, minus two, on the Plaza--sunny day

Back to blogging. My blog vacation was actually a Christmas vacation in Santa Fe with all of my family--16 of us in one large contemporary house within walking distance of the Plaza. It made for wild and noisy good times, a boisterous Christmas morning, and a generally wonderful experience. Years ago, when my children were in high school and college, we spent every Christmas vacation in Santa Fe, and it was a city where I felt completely at home, as though I'd lived there in another existence. It's now been ten years since I've been there and even longer for the children, but there was a lot of "Remember when..." as they reacquainted themselves.
Skiing was a major attraction for all but three of us, though it didn't happen until Dec. 26th. We arrived late Sunday, fiddled on Monday, and went to brunch and walked the Plaza on Tuesday. I found some trinkets for this one and that and a lovely wall cross for Lisa. Fun, but after one walk around the Plaza in my awkward boot, I'd had enough. Besides it was cold.
I also chickened out of caroling on Canyon Road, but everyone else had a great time.

Caroling on Canyon Road

For folks like me, who travel to Santa Fe on their stomachs, we ate at Gabriele's, new to me but delicious--can't beat crab enchiladas. One morning all sixteen of us had brunch at LaFonda--the kids and adults both loved it. They split us into tables of eight--so much more manageable. Another night, we thought we had reservations at Guadalupe Café, long a favorite of ours, but when Megan called to say we were running late, whoever answered said, "We're not open for dinner." Big problem, but it wasn't. The Pink Adobe has bought Guadalupe--the latter serves breakfast and lunch, and the Pink Adobe had a private room waiting for us. Expensive, but oh so good. Melanie, Jordan and I went to Chimayo one day--they had never been to the Sanctuario and brought back more than their share of holy dirt. I found a few quiet moments to sit in that wonderful chapel and talk go the Lord about 2014 and pray for the people on my prayer list. Lunch at Rancho Chimayo was as good as always. I get tired of spicy food and was happy with an avocado filled with chicken salad. And, finally, the three of us found ourselves on the next ski day with Maddie (14) and Jacob (7) for company, so we had lunch at Harry's Roadhouse, where I love the meatloaf. Very carefully saved and protected half my large sandwich for the drive back--sad story. Jordan though I packed it, and she thought I did. No meatloaf. I ate a cold cuts sandwich--good but inferior!

Lot of cooking went on; here, Mel and Eden make banana pudding

 

Full time life for a week with one teen and six children is interesting. We have a ten, nine, eight, two sevens and a six. The have incredible energy, even after a day on the slopes, and are incredibly noisy. I think we had never before been in as spacious a house where they could run and play. I learned to take my hearing aids out. For me, much of the week was quiet--reading and doing miscellaneous at my computer--but I liked that. And I liked knowing I was in Santa Fe and looking out over the lights of the city at night. I was glad to be back home, and I'm grateful for the privileges and opportunities and loving family that I have.

Some of the noisemakers

 

There were down moments of course--it's hard to be the matriarch, and it's hard to be in a house where no one is in charge and everyone has their own idea of how and what to do. And the trip ended badly with an emergency hospitalization of my oldest son. But more about those things later. Now I prefer to dwell on the pleasant memories--and they are many.

Goodbye until the next time

(photo courtesy Lisa Alter)

Madison is in high school

Not very long ago—I’m sure it was yesterday—Maddie, my first grandchild, was a beautiful baby with dark, curly hair and wide brown eyes that stared at me when someone said, "This is your Juju." Then she was a toddler, walking and talking early, so beautiful that people in restaurants and shopping malls stopped to comment. It made her mom nervous, and she’d say, “No, no, she’s not that beautiful.” She was our diva, the focus of family gatherings, given to temper tantrums over we weren’t sure what. I remember once it had something to do with a special dress, and I was the only one she’d come near—not her mom or her Aunt Jordan. Pleased me no end. Another time, spending the night here with her mom, she wanted all eyes on her and said, “Stop talking, Juju.”

Then suddenly she was in school. Once I visited her class, at the suggestion of a teacher, but the day I went there was a substitute who said, “Maddie’s grandmother is here because she has wrote some books.”  I considered fainting. The teacher provided no guidance as I tried to talk to the kids, but it didn’t faze Maddie. She took over the class.

As other grandchildren came along, Maddie was the caretaker—she played with them, changed their diapers, got them into pajamas—and they adored her. By then she had Eden, her younger sister, and being the two oldest they often shared babysitting chores. Once—only once—Maddie spent a weekend with me when Jacob was a toddler, and she played with him most of the weekend. At the time, she said it was the best weekend of her life, but she never came back without her family.

There are so many memories—one phase I remember distinctly is American Girl dolls and how pleased she was to get one for Christmas.

Another Christmas, she saved money to buy me a turquoise bracelet because she knew how much I love turquoise. She was front and center at a family gathering where she sang for us in a beautiful, clear voice, and we thought she had a future in music. She sang in the Frisco Youth Choir, and she wanted to go to Julliard. But then she wanted to be a chef, a teacher, a writer. She wrote wonderful funny pieces about her mom and dad and one about me as a role model which I can almost recite verbatim because it thrilled me so. Now her goal is to play basketball, and she’s darn good at it.

Maddie with basketball superstar Kevin Durant

at basketball camp this summer

Maddie’s strong, with an independent will and, for fourteen, an amazing sense of who she is. But she’s not the rebellious teen-ager. No insolence, no piercings, none of the things parents dread. Perfect? No, I’m sure she’s not. But as a granddaughter, she comes darn close.

Maddie starts high school next week. How did that happen? She’s grown up behind my back. In recent years, I haven’t seen as much of her—her family has an enormously busy schedule, including her heavy involvement in basketball and Eden’s track activities, and when she’s here, Maddie has her nose in a video game or a book—I’m amazed at how easily she transitions from print to digital. But where I once understood her world, these days she lives and moves in a world I don’t understand—a basketball, digital, hip world. And she’s going off to a new adventure.

There are six others behind her, and I know they to will go through these various phases and eventually I won’t understand their worlds either. But I trust them to grow into good people. Meantime, I’d sure like to put some bricks on their heads to stop all this growing up.

Morgan, who just earned her blue belt in karate

 

Kegan, who was named Soccer Star of his team

 

Stay sweet, my Maddie. I love you, and you carry my best wishes with you as you start this next phase of your life.

 

Family and friends and gratitude

Banner day--I got mail from two of my grandchildren--a sweet card from my oldest granddaughter sent from Hong Kong, where she's been with her dad while he had business. I gave her the National Geographic guide to Hong Kong and she wrote to thank me and say she'd seen places mentioned in the book. And, to balance it out, a sweet card from my youngest--six-year-old Kegan who wrote to thank me for his birthday present--a soccer jersey--and to say he misses me and loves me so much. Be still my heart!
This has been a week in which I think how blessed I am with friends. Lunch one day with a friend of 40 years, dinner the next night with a new friend who paid for my dinner before I got there--she knew what I'd order, lunch with another dear friend and happy hour the next day with my former neighbor who still calls me her Fort Worth mom, lunch again today and then I took dinner to a friend and her husband. She's just had a knee replacement and isn't getting around very well. Makes me think how blessed I am.
And I've thought about the blessings of friendship all week. I am surrounded by friends and family who know me well and care for me. If it weren't for that, I'd never know I had the TIA, but friend Jean who took me to lunch that day and on the way home said, "I want you to call your doctor. Something has happened to you." Then in came Elizabeth from the garage apt. saying, "Are you okay? You look really tired." What I didn't know was that there was a network of calls going on  behind my back. Jean called Elizabeth; Elizabeth called Jordan; Jordan called my brother and then came to take me to the ER; the next day, after the ER "trash" diagnosis, my brother called my doctor. And after I posted an incoherent blog I got days of messages of concern. My youngest son even came from Dallas to take me to lunch--a rare treat, but we had a good visit.
I'm not sure what I've done to merit all this concern, but I am so grateful--and so resolved now to pay it forward. I do think one thing is true: the more you reach out to others, the happier your life.
I'm now back to normal--what is that anyway?--feeling fine and almost free of the lingering fear or depression that followed the TIA. Nothing but good in the future.
 

TCU Mystery Weekend and so much else

I know it's Sunday night, and I should be posting on Potluck with Judy, but I'm still bursting with excitement over my weekend. Late Friday afternoon, I was honored to be the kickoff mystery author at TCU's Mystery Weekend. Thirty-one people attended, including three men. Longtime friend Shari Barnes, who teaches a non-credit mystery course, interviewed me, and as always she made me look much smarter than I am. The attendees were attentive, encouraging, and they had questions A nice touch--the caterers had prepared Doris' casserole, which comes from my cookbook, along with three kinds of cookies also from the cookbook. I didn't sell many books but that was okay--most of the people had already read them. And I understand some of the participants want the cookbook--should have brought some with me.
After dinner and the discussion, we boarded a bus for Austin--Jordan and Jacob had driven down the day before so I was grateful for a seat on the bus. Really nice new coach, good driver--and two major accidents that tied up I-35 so that our trip was longer than expected. But Megan came to get me, at the hotel where they were staying, and I spent the rest of my weekend with my two daughters and three of my grandsons. Lazy but fun. Ate too much.
We went to Shady Grove for lunch--if you know Austin, you'll recognize the name. Here's Megan and me at the restaurant

 

Discovered that my oldest grandson, Sawyer, who will turn nine in July, is a real bookworm. You have to pry the book out of his hands to get him to go to bed at night, and I predict he'll soon discover the trick of a flashlight under the covers--hurray for him! He was reading the third in the Percy Jackson series, Curse of the Titans, and was almost through. He was also most impressed that I once interviewed the author, Rick Riordan, over the phone. This is Sawyer at the restaurant, when his cousins were running around the play area. I so love having my grandchildren become readers.

 

 

The cousins played, swam a bit (the water is still so cold), jumped on the trampoline, went to Ford's baseball game, but they also showed that they are the children of the electronic age. Here the three of them are this morning (I think the grim looks were because they knew I was taking a picture)

 

 

All said, it was a great visit, mostly hanging out at the house. I read, watched while the girls cooked (how our roles have reversed), sat on the porch and drank wine with them, and thoroughly enjoyed myself, especially seeing my oldest daughter who I don't see often enough. Kudos to Jordan for arranging the trip, driving, and generally being her efficient self. She makes my life shine. 



It's all about the children

 

Grandkids on my bed and spellbound by Uncle Jamie's magic.

 

 The Fort Worth Stock Show is a grand occasion for my grandchildren, now a family tradition. They laughed and repeated stories last night about the bull riding, the monkey that rode a dog, and other wonders of the rodeo. Today was Stock Show day—wander the barns, the exhibits, and the Midway. I think I may have just taken one more step down the path to being elderly, but I had an epiphany in the middle of the night: I didn’t want to go; I wanted to stay home, in the quiet, get some work done, have a nap, and enjoy those two darling little dogs. There were immediate questions: Are you feeling alright? Yes, thank you, I’m feeling fine, but I’ve noticed of late that my idea of what I want to do has changed, and my main memories of the last two years “doing” the stock show are very sore feet and being parked various places to read while the kids went off to games and so on. I can read at home and my feet won’t hurt. And I suspect they’ll all have more fun without worrying if the “old lady” in the bunch is okay and having a good time.

They came home, again full of tales, in time for happy hour, for which Jordan joined us briefly, and then we were off to dinner at Joe T.’s (Texans know the huge, sprawling restaurant with its set menu, either, “the dinner” or fajitas, is the classic place to go). Some say you go for the atmosphere, because the food isn’t all that great. It’s certainly not the best Mexican haute cuisine but I’ve always liked it—had my first-ever taste of Mexican food there almost fifty years ago.

Tonight, all I could do was look around and enjoy that my family was around me. The crowds waiting in line were incredible, and inside it’s way too noisy. I couldn’t hear what anyone said. I tried reading lips, especially Megan’s because she is really expressive with her mouth and I’m reading a mystery about a deaf detective who reads lips—didn’t work for me but I guess I need practice. Yes, the food was good but I ate much less than usual (yay for me!) until we ordered sopapillas and then I almost ate the whole thing. So sticky, so sweet, all the things I don’t ordinarily want—but I loved them.

Generational change. I always used to be the first to go to bed. Now at ten, everyone’s asleep except Jacob and me (he won’t go to bed until I do). Jacob’s cousins were most jealous—“How late does he get to stay up?” I promised to go to bed soon, so off I go.

Tomorrow, a big family breakfast with a casserole and biscuits for the adults, waffles for the children if they want them. And then they’ll all be off in various directions, and Sophie and I will be left to our routine. I will be sad and lonely, but omigosh! Do I have a busy week ahead!





Chaos

My house is quiet right now, althugh a certain dog tension lingers in the air. I have as guests four extra adults, four extra children (plus Jacob), and two extra dogs. My house is honestly not that big. The dogs are the big problem: Megan's dog, mostly mini poo, is docile, loving and goes with the flow. Sophie is out of her mind with excitement over people and dogs, wants to play with everyone and jump all over them (Megan made the mistake of sitting on the floor and was floored by Sophie jumping on her--I explained that if you're on the floor, you're fair game). Colin's new dog, Gracie (Sofia Grace when she's in trouble) is the big problem. A large German shepherd mix that had a litter when she was put in the shelter, growled, snapped and acted like she wanted to eat Sophie alive; pretty soon she decided Eddie was just as bad. So now, oh peace, she is crated, Sophie is fed and outside, and Eddie is wandering around.
Everyone has gone to the rodeo, and I pray it's a long one, so I can do some of the stuff I had in mind to do tonight, like write my thousand words and make a meatloaf to stick in the freezer. When they are here, much as I love them, they all talk at once, and I have to either yell over them to announce I have something to say or corner the one I need to talk to. But we had a few pleasant, fairly quiet moments in front of the fireplace.
I had all kinds of sandwich makings so they could snack--they ate chips and salsa, and a little bit of cheese ball. Only Colin ate a sandwich, so I foresee a lot of lunch meat in my future. The two grown girls, after dressing their children warmly, left for the rodeo  in clothes that were more cowgirl glitzy than warm--and it's cold tonight.
In spite of all that, I am of course delighted to have them home, sorry my youngest son and his family will only be here for the day tomorrow, heartbroken for Jordan who is still in bed with the flu and now feeling well enough to be bored out of her gourd. They are all lovely adults, as glad to see me as I am to see them, and the chldren are a delight. My oldest grandson is the one who greets me with big kisses, but he's also the one who cannot keep his hands off things--the pens on my desk would make great projectiles (I didn't ask what he intended to project), the paper clips fascinate him, an empty decorative jar has to be opened and closed several times. When I explained that my desk is strictly off limits, he said, "But there are so many interesting things with so many possibilities." I'm used to Jacob who sees a pen as something that requires a blank piece of paper (usually a discarded piece with typing on the other side). Tomorrow my two oldest granddaughters will arrive but for now Morgan is the only girl--she does a credible job of holding her own. They all want to be in and out of doors, and no amount of warning them Sophie will bolt does any good so now I look the doors and hide the keys. Sort of like a fortress.
No doubt, Jacob will want to spend the night with his cousins, and no doubt, since we're short on sleeping space, he'll end up in my bed. But I'll do that just to have as much of my family as possible under my roof. It's a delightful feeling to know when I go to sleep my children and grandchildren are nearby.
I confess in a weak moment I called Jordan and offered to trade her sickbed for my place, but I didn't really mean it. And she knew it. She's really tired of watching old movies.

A grandson is different from a son

Sometimes spending a lot of time with a six-year-old is wearing--I love him, but my string gets short. Tonight he was playing with Sophie in the kitchen while I was trying to fix supper. Jacob gets excited and his voice goes to a high pitch and he runs at Sophie. I'm sure deep down she knows he loves her, but she sometimes wants refuge, so she gets between me and the cupboards where I'm standing. Then Jacob comes after her. Upshot is I'm caught between a dog and a child, one of whom is screaming, and I'm liable to trip over both of them. Yes, I lost my patience.
One of the great advantages of my temporary tenant--she happened in to do some laundry and invited Jacob out to the apartment for a visit. He was there a half hour, and Sophie and I enjoyed a peaceful time in my office.
But back in the house, even after his mom arrived, Jacob still wanted to play roughly with Sophie and still raised his voice in excitement. And then he got his feelings hurt, which always makes me immediately contrite.
Elizabeth and I talked about it, and when I said, "I feel so bad when he gets his feelings hurt," she asked if I was that way with my children. I thought about it and said no, I didn't think so. Your children are yours, they love you through thick and thin--for my children, particularly, I was the only security they had. Grandchildren don't automatically love their grandparents. I didn't love my maternal grandmother. I didn't even know her except as a grim, silent woman who sat in a dark house and later as a woman with dementia, though I didn't know the term at the time. I want Jacob to love me and associate me with laughter and fun--but I am the disciplinarian who makes him do homework and scolds when he yells and.... oh,  you name it!
Yesterday he told me "on accident" (my kids always said that too) that the bird feeder fell down. Truth turned out to be he swung a stick at it. The bottom fell off, all the seed fell out, and he came to get me. So I set him to cleaning up with a broom, dustpan and garbage bag. When he asked, "Are you going to help me?" I said, "No. I didn't break it." "Well, it's not fair!" was his reply, but he dutifully cleaned up the fallen bird seed, more with his hand then the broom. I figure he has to learn that actions have consequences, but it's a hard lesson to teach--hard on me. My good friend Betty thought I was so doing the right  thing, but I worry lately that I am always on his case and rarely the "fun grandmother." Where do you draw the line?
I want to be fun, but I can't let him get away with inappropriate behavior (one of his favorite phrases). I hate to be always disciplining, but he so often plain doesn't listen until the fifth time I say something and by then my patience has run out.
I guess the bottom line is I never worried about my children loving me. I worried about feeding them and clothing them and teaching them and, yes, loving them, but maybe I ws too harried to worry about them loving me--or maybe I assumed they did. I worry about it with my grandchildren, maybe even more with those I don't see daily. Or, then again, maybe more with the one I do see. Oh, my, you can see I'm confused.

LIsten to your body--or your muse?

A lot of writers will tell you the way to write a novel is simply to plant your butt in the chair and write. I remember once being awed to meet J. A. Jance, one of my personal heroines at the time, and when I said I was trying to write mysteries, she said dismissively, "We all know how you do that. You plant your bottom in the chair and write." At the time I was offended by her abrupt, uncaring manner because we didn't all know--I could sit in a chair all day and have no idea what I was doing. I thought if I had her success and met a wannabe, I'd be more encouraging, probe a little about interests, etc. I later heard however that she was in the midst of a family crisis far away--and she was in my city because of a commitment to speak that evening. She carried the evening off with panache and you'd have never known that someone she cared about was dying.
But I kept that  line in my mind. It's not an unusual or particularly original piece of advice. Some writers set daily goals--hours at the computer, number of pages or scenes or words written. I can't do that because my schedule varies wildly. But so, I find, does my muse. When do you keep your butt in the chair and when do you simply walk away?
This morning, my house was a zoo. Jacob and I went out early to his house to feed Fishy, water the plants, look for his favorite sleeping shirt (he couldn't find it) and get his bike-riding helmet (it was in the locked garage). When we came home, Socorro was cleaning, Greg was mowing, and the serviceman from I&E was working on the sprinkler system. Jacob said, "There are a lot of people at your house, Juju," and I was tempted to tell him it takes a village to keep my house running. His grandfather came to pick him up, amid much excitement on Jacob's part--a trip to Legoland, a water park adventure, and a movie. Jacob told me they were taking him to see a movie with lots of violence, and I said I doubted his other grandmother would tolerate that. "Just kidding," he said. "We're going to see Diary of a Wimpy Kid."
Greg finished the yard, Socorro finished the house, and everyone was gone. I fixed lunch and settled down to write. Some really constructive time. I did write 900 words, a scene that I had planned out. I knew where it was going from there, but  I'm not sure if it was my body or my brain or both that didn't want to work. Each word was painful, and I quit. Be it physical or mental, the muse wasn't there. Took a good two-hour nap, fixed a light summer supper--cold salmon platter with avocado, deviled eggs, cherry tomatoes, cucumber--for a friend and had a lazy evening visiting. She's someone who also lives alone, is as devoted to her cats as I am to my dogs.  We have great conversations, and I feel I'm lucky to have found another new but good friend in recent years.
The news on the dog front is good. Scooby has suddenly turned a corner. Greg said he ran to him this morning, and at noon he went up the steps himself--his back legs don't quite make it, and he needs help. I have given up the towel/sling because it seems to hinder more than it helps. Yes, he still falls but not nearly as often--and he's not as nervous and anxious about it. I am encouraged for the first time in almost two weeks.
Life is good, and I remind myself daily to be grateful.

Saga of a grandmother--and a neat recipe

It's been a while since I cooked a big dinner on a weeknight for family and then got a six-year-old ready for bed, with full directions on what to do the next three mornings. But Jacob is with me for three nights--his parents are off to Mexico to celebrate his father's big 40 birthday. I will send him to day camp (right across the street from me) tomorrow and Thursday, with full instructions about packing lunches, what time he has to be there, all that good stuff. Sheesh! You'd think I've never done this before. Friday, his paternal grandparents will take him for the weekend. I'm actually excited about having him for three days and have arranged a full social schedule--tomorrow night I'll fix spaghetti for friends (much younger) who have a four-year-old who Jacob adores. And an 18-month old, which means we have to clean up all the tiny Leggos, etc. Thursday night my good friend and Jacob's Aunt Betty will come by and we'll go out for dinner. Jacob has chosen Mexican. But that night we also have to pack, bathe, etc.
I don't use the crockpot as much as I should but early (really early!) this morning I followed a recipe (which turned out to be more complicated than I thought) and put pork chops on to cook all day. A trick I learned: when they're through cooking, strain the broth off and put the solid things (minus bay leaves but mostly sliced onion) in the blender and puree. Then add to the broth and thicken with cornstarch. The onions gave the gravy a sweet taste. Had lots left over so I froze it for a soup base this winter.
But I also fixed Louella's Rice, of which Christian ate three helpings and declared he'd rather have that than birthday cake. Simplest recipe in the world. Mix:
1 can cream of celery soup
1 cup minute rice
1 cup sour cream
1 cup grated sharp cheddar
1 4 oz. can green chiles
Bake @ 350 until bubbly
In between all those chores, I had breakfast with a friend, wrote 2,000 words, did my yoga routine, partially carried a 55 lb. dog up and down the two steps to the yard twice--and got a much-needed nap. What happened to the simple life, living alone and peacefully writing?
I am worried about Scooby. He keeps his balance pretty well in the back yard because he can get traction on the ground. But his legs splay out on my hardwood floors, and I have to hoist his back end up. And he is terrified of those steps--begins to shake when he gets near them. It's a week and a half since his "incident" and they tell me it will get better. He is better, but not nearly as much as I'd hoped. Yet obviously tonight, he wanted to come in--did not want to be left out. And he plays with the little dog when he's outside. Not ready to call it quits.

A moment to savor

Jacob is telling Maddie, my oldest grandchild, some secret--from the way he looked at me, I know it had to do with me, but the picture is so cute I'll forgive him if he was saying, once again, "she's old."

Jordan invited a few friends over tonight for drinks and snacks on my porch to celebrate her birthday tomorrow--my St. Patrick's Day baby. But Jordan's small parties always turn large, and there were probably 25 here, including quite a few children who ran and played on the front lawn and had a high old time. Two episodes of beach balls going into the street--one meant David, Jordan's first-ever boyfriend and still so dear to us, walked over a block to get the ball that kept rolling and rolling. The second time, a ball that is apparently beloved by four-year-old Abby next door sailed down the street, crossed the street, jumped the curb and tumbled down the incline into the parking lot behind the school--I watched its path in awe because the ball seemed to have a life of its own, twisting and turning as it would. Abby and her mother drove to get it because Abby was distraught. I'm always glad to see Jordan's friends, most of whom are dear to me. Lacey decided I should not be on my feet (well, I said the doctor said that) so every time I sat down she was in front of me with a stool or chair for me to put my foot up. And when I tried to clean the kitchen, she  yelled at me--she confessed that to Jordan. But she and Amy did yeoman's work cleaning up, and I have only a few things to attend to tomorrow. My heartfelt thanks to them.
Jamie and his family arrived long after I'd given up on them coming--traffic from Dallas was awful, as usual. But after most people had left, the grandchldren entertained us. Jacob is a great showman, and he did his hip hop moves for us--he's really pretty good. Then Edie did the splits and the  yoga pose, crow, and Maddie demonstrated how seventh graders dance these days. Great hilarity.
The moment to treasure came at the end of the evening when Jamie dragged out the old box of family photos that's behind the chair in my room--some of the kids have gone through and taken their childhood pictures but not all. He delighted in going throiugh the pictures, exclaiming about this person and that place and remembering instances and toys and people from their childhood. It made me happy to realize once again what a good childhood they had and how fondly they remember it and the people and dogs involved--there were a lot of dogs. Jame was particularly interested in how old people were and, of course, in many pictures his father and I were younger than he is now by quite a bit. That astounded him. He saw pictures of his brother as a toddler with one foot in the commode, pictures of himself as a fifth grader (dig that hair!), pictures of his older sister at what he called "an  unfortunate period of her life" (bad hair, bad glasses) and getting ready for her senior prom, and a picture of his baby sister crawling through the space left in a multi-paned swinging door after he kicked out one panel accidentally. All those memories--such good times. It occurs to me that today we don't save boxes of photos--they're all digital. I wonder how, forty years from now, the grandchildren will be able to go through them and say, "Remember? That was Aunt Jordan's birthday party on the porch!" And maybe Jacob will remember how he always told me I was old when I wasn't!
Anyone want leftover chili/cheese dip?

Kids, cooking, and writing--the stuff of Judy's Stew

The mail brought a delightful surprise today--Lisa had a 2012 calendar made on Snapfsih--all adorable pictures of their adorable children, Morgan and Kegan. When I wrote to thank her she pointed out that she had annotated it for all the birthdays in the family, anniversaries, and major holidays.  I'm always looking for ways to keep track of birthdays, so this will be perfect. And besides I can look at those bright faces.
The same mail brought another bonus--the new issues of Southern Living and Bon Appetit. Two in one day! Work went out the window while I browsed--reading recipes in magazines is absolutely high on my list of favorite things.
Southern Living has, for instance, a whole spread on pimiento cheese. I have only learned to like it in the last few years, but now I love it. I have made good pimiento cheese at home but I also have a favorite "store-bought" brand--Palmetto cheese (not the kind with jalapenos added, thank you). It has cream cheese and just enough red pepper bite. Jordan has turned up her nose a pimiento cheese for years, I suppose because she wasn't raised on it (nor was I as a northerner). But she eats a lot of this if I put it out for an appetizer. That brand was mentioned in the article, along with several others. And there are directions for several varieties--and a pimiento cheese/bacon sandwich. Be still my heart. And how about chutney chicken salad? Yummm.
Bon Appetit this month is devoted to southern cooking--even directions for caring for that cast-iron skillet you can't live without. The last time I followed directions for re-seasoning my skillet, I thought I'd ruined it. But scrubbing stubborn bits with Kosher salt makes sense to me. And skillet-fried chicken sounds heavenly. I've never been successful at frying chicken but this may make me try again.
And writing? Tonight I talked to the mystery class in the community classes program at TCU. My friend Shari Barnes coordinates it and I'm sure it's her leadership that makes it such a lively, funny group. The session was filled with laughter--and some penetrating questions that I had to think about. General concensus: they liked Kelly a lot, so there to to book reviewer who thought she was a cold snob.
What a nice day! Now back to work, but I'm not through with those magazines. That was just the first go-throiugh.

Home again, home again

No matter where you go--be it to an exotic foreign land or a relative's house thirty miles away--and no matter what a wonderful time you have, it's always good to be home. I'm back from a wonderful Christmas in Austin, still savoring memories, but gradually settling into being home--unpacking, sorting mail, loving the dogs (Sophie seems ecstatic to see me, Scooby more contained about it), throwing out a dead flower arrangement. Tomorrow I have several loads of laundry to do, a thousand leaves to sweep out of the house (Sophie is a magnet for dirt and leaves), and lots of other "reclaiming" chores. But late this afternoon, I had a nap in my own bed, which was delightful.
Jordan, Jacob and I managed to make a fve-hour trip out of the three-hour drive from Austin--we stopped at the outlet mall in Round Rock, then at the Elite Cafe in Waco only the parking lot was so crowded we moved on, with the Czech Stop in mind for quick sandwiches. But as we exited another place in Waco to do a bit of shopping Jordan wanted, we passed a Collin Street Bakery restaurant, and I voted for going back there for lunch--it was not outstanding but good.
So now I'm home savoring memories--Ford and Jacob taunting me this morning with mischief in their eyes, then running screaming when I said I'd get them; Sawyer's intense concentration on building a rocket; Maddie's wonderful voice and guitar music; Eden's taattoos that she plastered on each child; Morgan sliding down the pole from the circular staircase I don't know how many times and Kegan finally following her lead. Kegan at four avoids me and some of his aunts--I think he's shy, because he'll grin but back away. They are all wonderful, and I am so blessed.
On to 2012 which will be a good year. God bless one and all.

Christmas and grandchildren

I started to write that Christmas is all about grandchildren--but of course, it's not. It's about the gift of Jesus and God's love for his people. Jordan and I agreed tonight that the thing we miss in our big family gatherings is the late night trip to church--but no one wants to keep the children up that late. And I'm afrad the magical "reason for the season" gets lost in tracking Santa Claus and begging to open just one present.
But an underlying theme to this sacred holiday is the joy of children and family traditions. All seven of my grandchildren have at most a two-minute reacquaintance period and then they're off and running. The noise level in the house is worse than ten jet planes and there are of course occasional tears, accusations, and fits. But on the whole it's happy. Their Uncle Colin made a gingerbread house for each child and each decorated his or her own today--and each won a prize in a different category. Then there were running gun battles throughout the house not only encouraged but led by two men in the forties. The children hardly stop to be loved or hugged.
This is an Alter Christmas--every other year my children go to their in-laws but on "our" years we celebrate the way I grew up and the way my children did. That means no, you don't open presents until  Christmas morning--Sawyer announced we were take a vote tonight but I nullified the vote.
We've had chicken parmesan (my turn to cook), chili (Brandon's turn but Megan made it) and tonight I made my mom's everlasting rolls and turned them into sticky buns that are waiting to rise enough to be baked. I set the rest of the dough on the porch--it will be in the 30s--and will make dinner rolls tomorrow. I haven't done that in years--it's a lot of work--but my children were ecstatic that I'm doing this. And you know what? It felt good to work the dough. Jordan offered to stir and I said no, I have to do it by how it feels. Megan said she had no idea how I knew what I was doing, not measuring. I protested I measured--milk, surgar, oil, baking powder, baking soda. But then I do add flour by the feel of the dough. I so hope I can pass that on to my girls.
The nice thing about my family is that everyone cooks, so it isn't a burden on any one. I've gotten to read and work a bit at the computer and sleep late in the morning. Tomorrow we'll have a huge breakfast and then presents and then launch into fixing turkey  dressing, green bean casserole (a must!), mashed potatoes and gravy, and mac and cheese. The apple pie is made, guests are bringing appetizers, and it will be a jolly day. I hope I can get them all to go beyond the funny blessings at the table to give serious thanks for the day and all it represents and for our good fortune in being together.
May God bring each of you similar blessings this season and in the coming year. And to all, a good night.

Listening to your gut

This weekend, three-fourths of my family have gathered at Jamie's house in Frisco. I am not there, which surprises me. The Austin contingent isn't there either, but that doesn't suprise me so much. The other morning I woke early when it was still dark, and you could have scraped my anxiety off the ceiling. So I lay there and tried to figure out what I was anxious about. The brief presentation I had to make that night? Nah, I had good notes and always do better than I think once I get on my feet in front of an audience. Jacob starting school, which will change my routine completely? I didn't think so. In several ways, I'm looking forward to that--it will help me break some bad habits. The weekend won hands down.
The plans, on this 107 weekend, included a pool party at eleven with pizza in honor of granddaughter Morgan's sixth birthday and a triathlon Sunday morning in which Jamie, Colin and Lisa are participating. I am so proud of Colin and Lisa for taking up this challenge and working out in preparation. Jamie does several traithlons a season and is more of an old hand, but I am still proud of him. But that's two outdoor events in the heat and I've never done well in heat since the time when I was about twelve and got so badly sunburned--maybe sunstroke?--that I was in bed for days. Being out in heat and sun makes me woozy.
And then there's my puppy. She's too young to leave in a crate for the petsitter's twice-a-day visits, so I'd have to take her, crate and all. I'd worry about her being in the crate too much, breaking her training routine, having accidents on the floor--Jamie is pretty particular about that because he has two dogs of his own and he's afraid Sophie will set a precedent. So I decided staying home with my animal kingdom was the best plan.
Do I miss being there with everybody? Of course. A whole lot. I particularly wanted to be there for Morgan and her birthday and to show her my puppy, which she had requested. And I want to support Colin and Lisa--and be sure they don't collapse during this event. You know how mothers are--if I were there, all would be well. Am I having a sad, lonely pity party over here in Fort Worth? Not at all. I've been busy all day--getting Jacob ready and off with his mom (he'd spent the night here), visiting a friend who just had surgery, working at my desk, fixing a dinner that took some time--and was only medium good.
And I'm sort of proud of myself. It's not been long since I would have said, "Family get-togther? Got to be there." But I recognize anxiety when it takes over my mind and body, and I've learned a little bit about dealing with it. Tomorrow I'll go to church and give thanks for my family, and then I'll go to an all-church luncheon (Babe's chicken--who could resist?). And tonight I'm going to read a book. Life is good, and I'm filled with gratitude.

Family fun and a bit of work

How we spend our days. The kitchen table has become computer central. We all sit enveloped in our own computer worlds. This morning, for the umpteenth time, I finished revising my mystery. I'm ready to submit it,and I have a small press in mind. I feel much better about it since I revised it yet again--amazing how many extra, unneeded words you can take out. I found I used a lot of "seemed to"--well if someone seemed to think, they could just plain think. Rhetorical questions have to go as do too many meanderings in the mind of Kelly, the main character. I still like this novel a lot and feel optimistic about it. But I was pleased for the past days with leisure enough to revise--and I finished it just in time.

Jordan and Jacob, back from Coppell and family Christmas with the Burtons, arrived in the early afternoon, and the kids have been yelling, screaming, and having a high old time ever since. Megan expected to arrive about 5 but was delayed; at 6:45 she was barely out of Austin, so she'll be a late arrival, with Sawyer and Fordy. I worry of course about her driving at night. But she sends us frequent emails on her progress--some fancy program I don't understand that tracks her progress. The pictures above show the cousins making faces and me sitting watching them on the arm of the couch--Colin says I was trying to look like a teenager, but I think I look more like an old lady who had an extra glass of wine!
Lisa fixed chicken parmigiano tonight, and I fixed a salad. So good. I need the recipe. She dips it in garlic butter and then a mixture of bread crumbs, parmesan, and herbs. Jacob told his Aunt Lisa it was the best chicken ever. Family times are happy times, and I am so blessed.

Planning a menu--and a happy grandmother's picture

Ignore the goofy grin. This is very much a proud grandmother photo. I'm wearing the T-shirt that Morgan and Kegan made for me, with a little help from their mom. Susan took this tonight when she and Jay came for supper.

I'm convinced more than ever that successful entertaining depends less on your ability as a cook than on  your ability to plan a menu. Tonight we had a cold supper, perfect for a warm day like today (101, with heat index of 108). My mom used to chill a can of salmon and serve it on a platter with cucumber, mayonnaise, and I forget what all. I've talked before about the Pisces tuna I order from a cannery in Oregon. Recently I also got six cans of salmon, and we tried it tonight. I fixed a platter of deviled eggs, cherub tomatoes, cucumbers, asparagus and salmon, and served it with a vinaigrette, mayonnaise, and lemon. None of us used anything but the lemon, and the salmon was delicious.

I also made the County Line potato salad that I loved so much at the party last weekend. It was great and Jay, who never will take home leftovers, took a huge helping of potato salad--he had some cockamanny argument that it wasn't leftovers because it hadn't been cooked and wouldn't have to be reheated. Look up the recipe online, because it's all over the place. I learned something while making it. Back to Mom's cooking again, but she learned years and years ago from the Italian cook at the hospital where Dad worked that you should peel and cube the potatoes while hot and pour vinaigrette over them. Let that soak in and cool before adding mayonnaise, mustard, onion, celery, whatever. The directions for County Line potato salad call for boiling the potatoes in their skins and refrigerating them for half an hour. I refrigerated them overnight, and oh my goodness, they were so much easier to peel and dice. You make the sauce, including onion and celery, in a separate bowl and then add the potatoes. For once, I followed the recipe to the letter, and it was delicious if I do say so. I could have eaten two helpings again but I was aware of the sour cream and mayo, even if both were "light."

Usually I don't fix dessert, but last week I wrote about Blue Bell ice cream, so I had to buy some. I bought peppermint/chocolate and served it with a mint chocolate sauce I had in the fridge. All three of us licked our bowls clean.

My point about planning: the cold platter, potato salad, and ice cream went together so well and made a perfect meal for a hot summer night. And as Susan said, conversation was as lively as always. We had a good time.

Nor did I lounge away the day. I wrote almost 800 words on my novel and feel I'm back into it. A busy week ahead, but I intend to keep writing. There's a challenge on a mystery blog to write one page a day before you ever turn to the internet. Good idea, but not one I find myself following. But I'm going to write a page--or more--every day.

As I walked out on the porch tonight when Jay and Susan were leaving, I said to think that in a month we'll be having cocktails and maybe dinner on the porch. We all sighed. This 100+ heat seems endless. We've been encouraged with the promise of scattered showers, but I'll tell you how scattered they've been: yesterday morning when I went to the store the streets were dry, but when I got  six blocks away they were wet with large puddles indicating a good-sized rain. So frustrating!

An adventure with Jacob

Since I have Jacob from about 11:30 this morning until supper time tomorrow night, I thought we should get out of the house. So proposed an adventure for us--dinner at an Italian/Lebanese restaurant down the street. At first he said he didn't want a 'venture, but then he said he wanted to go to a restaurant "in a minute." We drove there with the top down--much easier to buckle him in that way and he loved it. Once there, he turned shy and wouldn't speak to anyone; he did decide he wanted spaghetti with meat sauce, so we split that. He didn't like it because it wasn't red; then he didn't like it because it had red spots in it (go figure!). I ordered Sprite for him, which he declared he loves--when he tasted it, turns out he was right. It wasn't Sprite, it was water. Finally, since I'd eaten most of meat sauce out of my bowl, I traded with him (brought his home) and the waitress and I cajoled him into eating five bites of fairly plain noodles so he could have 'ssert. He liked the cannoli but who could eat a whole one? Too sweet and rich, so much of that came home with us.
Coming home he wanted the top up, so I buckled him in, started to back out, and he said, "Why is the top up?" I told him because he asked for that, and he said, "But I want it down." I told him it was too late.
I'm exhuasted.
Tomorrow, we're going to try church and maybe Curley's for a hot dog and frozen custard.
I have to remind myself that I used to take four children all over by myself and never thought anything about it, but I think that leads me back to the argument my children never understand--four are easier than one or two. And besides, I was thirty years or more younger.

Learning to tweet

It's not as easy as some seem to think. I can post a tweet--if I can think of something that's significant enough for 140 characters. But I read some advice about Tweetdeck.com, where you can control the tweets you get and eliminate those not of interest to you. My hashtags (note how I use that term so casually) would be writers, food, mysteries, write, and I'm sure I'd add others. So I signed up for Tweetdeck, but I can't for the life of me figure out how to choose my columns, which I think means the hashtags I want to see as opposed to all those hundreds that I don't care about. My friend Sue was, I thought, a pioneer in social media, since she told me how to put my blog posts on Facebook. But she bowed out at the mention of Tweetdeck.
Twitter is supposed to be really helpful if you have a new book to promote, which I don't, so maybe it's not crucial that I learn it right now. But once I get the idea in my head, I'm determined. I hope to get some of my older fiction on Kindle and other reading devices, and I guess Twitter would be good for promoting that.
Meantime I just learned that some of my grandchildren will be here this weekend--the Frisco girls briefly for lunch, the Austin boys and Jacob in my care for Saturday night while their parents party. So I'm making groceery lists and planning ahead. I love it.
Hot in Fort Worth tonight and humid--I sat on the porch to read for a while, and there was sort of a semi-breeze but when I came in, for only the second time this spring, I turned on the air conditioner. Won't leave it on long but want it to cool the house. Two days ago it was, as a friend said on Facebook, "right airish" in Cowtown but today it's right humid.
Last night I saved a gecko--little critter had found it's way into the hall by the bathroom, and I thought I'd better rescue it before the cat discovered it. Do you know how fast those things move? I had a hard time but finally got him onto a paper towel, fortunately upside down so that he couldn't scamper off. I kept telling him gently that I'd put him outside, but I'm not at all sure he was reassured. I put him out the back door (the closest) but hope his family wasn't on the front porch (where I see lots of geckos) or if they were he'd find his way back to them. I also see them on the windows by the back door where the outdoor lights make their tiny bodies translucent. They are such fascinating little things and, as I keep telling Jacob, they are our friends.

When you teach a little one something new . . . .

My mother's 110th birthday is today. One year, on her birthday, Jordan and I decided to visit her grave, but Jordan had to stop at 7-11 first. I asked why, and she said, "I want to take her some blow-pops. I always used to take them to her, and she loved them." Maybe, or maybe she just loved Jordan. Today in church we sang "In the Garden." Mom always used to cry when she heard that hymn, because it had been played at the funeral of her brother who died in his early twenties, long before I would have known him. So I found myself singing, "For he walks with me and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own," with tears in my eyes. Mom was a great lady, and I owe much of the good in me today to her (including the cooking).
Today was mostly a Jacob day after church, and it was one of sunny disposition punctuated by storms of tears. He cried bitterly when his mom left, got over it, ate a pbj sandwich, and then wanted me to wash the sticky off him. However, he went into another hissy fit because he thought I was going to wash off his nail polish (no comments here please about boys and nail polish--it will not warp him in future life). He was so hysterical that I tried loving, ignoring--nothing worked, so I asked what he wanted. Time out? TV in his bed? In his bed without TV? Each elicited a screaming denial, but then through sobs he said he wanted time out. So hand in hand we walked to the time-out chair in my bedroom. I kissed him and said I hoped he felt better soon. Within 10 minutes at the most, he was in my office, wanting to sit in my lap and watch doggie videos on YouTube. He had collected himself, which I find pretty remarkable for a three-year-old.
But the accomplishment of the day: we have a hand-me-down tricycle that must be seventy years old. Along the way, someone did a medium job of painting it red, and there is a huge hole in the front tire (which is probably irreplaceable). But the grandchildren ride it around the house in circles, becoming a hazard to adults. Jacob has never paid it much attention, even though Ford, his cousin six months younger, is already riding a two-wheeler with training wheels. I didn't worry--Jacob is a bright boy--but it puzzled me. Tonight he got it out, and we worked together to figure out the moves--at first he went backward as often as forward, but we worked on it, and by the time Mommy and Daddy came, he proudly rode the trike the length of my kitchen, Great cheers ensued. When he was very little, I taught him (through repeated efforts) to wave bye-bye, so now I feel I've contributed two things to his education.
Did I get any work done today? Ah, no, but that's okay It was a neat day.

Oh, What a Day!

Remember that song from "Oklahoma"? Curly sings it, and I think it's the day he meets what's-her-name or else the day they declare their love. And the gist of the song is what a wonderful day it has been. That's not the kind of day I had at all. Last night my new computer (two days in use) began acting really weird--I couldn't pull up  a Web site but Jamie, talking to me on the phone, got it easily and logged into my account (okay, it was Weight Watchers). Then the Webroot Sweep mechanism acted funny and Jamie suggested I just re-boot. But when I did I got a blue screen advising me not to power off or unplug my computer because it was loading 8 of 25 updates. The blue was softened with streaks of white like clouds and a few oak leaves--how comforting! How can a two-day-old computer need 25 updates? Periodically in spite of that warning it would turn itself off, so I'd restart it, each time hoping. Same blue screen. This went on for three hours last night.
I'm not sure I can adequately explain how important a computer is to me, without everyone else thinking, "Get a life!" But I depend on my computer, as any writer does, to work on manuscripts--and I really did have a scene I wanted to write last night. But also I get a lot of email, really a lot, mostly because I'm on two listservs from Sisters in Crime but also emails related to TCU Press. I do my banking on line, pay my bills, order things. Even though I'm not truly proficient, I really do live by my computer--and I spend most of my time at home at my desk, with the computer running, even if I'm reading, proof-reading, editing, whatever. So I go pretty ballistic when it quits. Jamie was patient through three phone calls but by the fourth I think he'd given up and said he really didn't know.
I didn't sleep well, aware that I had to be out the door at 8 for a haircut appt. across town and thinking about the blasted computer. This morning it was doing the same thing, so I resolved to put it behind me and go on with my day. Only trouble is my haircut was at 9:30, not 8:30; Rosa called me on my cell phone, and I told her I simply had too much to do to wait another hour.Went to Central Market, which was a weird experience because the lights weren't even on in many sections--clearly they weren't quite ready for the day, although it was after 9 and I thought they opened at 8. Got the few things I needed, went to CVS for a prescription and a couple of other things, went home to put groceries up, and went back to the office to do acquisitions work that had piled up and other things that I hadn't been able to deal with on my computer., including getting the telephone number for Dell tech support.
Came home, put things away, straightened up, fixed lunch, and settled to call Dell. While waiting for them to transfer me from one tech person to another, I hit the power key again--and the computer was back to itself. I hung up guiltily, but I can't tell you how much less pressured I feel now. I was sure the computer had crashed and I'd have to go to the office every day to get things done until Jamie could bring my old computer back this weekend. Now I feel on top of my world again (with my fingers crossed).  As for the haircut, I'm simply going to have long shaggy hair until after New Year's though since I hadn't washed it this morning, I felt really tacky all day and announced at the office that I would not bear any comments about blowsy blondes.
The day ended with Jacob, who cried bitterly when his mom left but soon brightened up and was a fireball of energy all evening--he ate a good dinner but I began to regret having given him that one sugar cookie as a reward. He'd do headstands which ended with him throwing himself at me, and he wouldn't be parted from me for a minute. It was "Juju!" every time I turned around. I talked a lot about patience, and late tonight he said, "We have to be patient, don't we?" I nearly fell off my chair laughing. All in all we had a pleasant and fun evening, though I am a bit tired.
And the week is about to get really busy. Why did I say I'd present two programs the week before we leave for Christmas?