True Confessions

This morning I discovered that a post I did on Judy's Stew over a week ago was "favored" on Twitter--I'm not sure what that means, but it sounds good. It was a post about gratefulness, so I was doubly glad because I like to think of myself as a grateful person. I have been blessed in so many ways--family, friends, career, my home and my dog--I could go on and on. I particularly think of how blessed and safe I am as I red of the terrible carnage in the Israeli/Palestinian conflict or the Ebola outbreak.
But I have to confess that there's a counter side to my personality--I can be petulant, cross, resentful. And I've shown it lately. One incident comes to mind: I had on my calendar for some time that Jacob would spend the night Saturday night and, as always, I was looking forward to his company, thought we'd go to church Sunday. Even turned down a possible visit to one of my other families. But then a couple of days ago I found out that family plans had changed and Jacob wouldn't be around all weekend. It left me staring at a long, empty weekend--oh, I've always got work on my desk to do and books to read--a book I'm reading for review right now. But who wants to work all the time? I admit I didn't handle it gracefully, and I need to get over that.
This morning was cloudy and cool, perfect day for the top down, so that's how I went to and from the grocery store (I always put it up when I park). Coming home I was following  my usual route through the park, with the top down, the breeze blowing my hair just enough to make it a mess, the air just the right temperature. Everything's pretty green around here still, and the trees were lovely. It was, I thought, a perfect day, too good a one to harbor resentment. I see lots of Jacob, and I will learn to be more graceful about sharing. That's the kind of person I'd like to be. Guess I need the Lord's help.
My weekend will be okay--I'll shop tomorrow and make potato salad for good friends who are coming for Sunday supper. And maybe I'll get it together and go to church alone, though I really don't like to go alone. And tonight I'll read that book!
I used to call these divorcee's damn dull weekends, but I've been divorced too long to harbor that thought.

Notes from the home front

Some people like Fall best, but Spring is my favorite time in Texas, with flowers blooming and soft pleasant temperatures. Sure, we could use more rain, and we're due to get it this coming week I believe. But meantime it has been perfect weather for driving with the top down on the car and for sitting on the deck at night with a book on my iPad and a glass of wine. Sophie keeps me company and defends me by occasionally running off to bark at I don't know what threat.
It was not a peaceful morning here. I have acquired a phone stalker--now you need to realize that my younger son, Jamie, is the ultimate prank phone caller. The other day he woke me from a nap, using a voice I didn't recognize, asked what I was doing, and said, "Oh, I called the wrong number. I meant to call Jean (he named a friend of mine). I'll just call her and call  you back later." Anxious to catch a bit more sleep before I had to get Jacob I said fine, and he said, "Mom, I really got you that time!"
So a few days later when the phone rang during nap time and a man I didn't recognize said,, "Mrs. Alt-air?" I assumed it was Jamie, told him if he didn't stop talking that way I'd hang up on him. I don't remember what he said, but I kept waiting for him to say, "Mom, I didn't get you this time." It didn't happen. The man asked how I was and such inanities. Finally I hung up and he called right back. Still no admission that it was Jamie, so I said, "Call me back at four," and he agreed. Later that night I emailed Jamie to ask what happened to "I'll call you back at four." Not unusual there was no answer.
Well, this morning at 6:10 the same voice called to say "Good morning, Mrs. Alt-air. How are you?" I mumbled "Good morning and goodbye" and hung up. It didn't wake Jacob but it sure brought me awake because I knew it wasn't Jamie. Later, I looked on the phone for the name and area code--876. Looked it up, and it's Jamaica--comes with a warning about scam calls. I'm hoping my "friend" doesn't call back.
Jacob got up before I did--I wanted to linger in that half-sleep of a morning when I didn't need to pop out of bed. Sophie would have none of it. She barked and barked at me until I got up. Nope, she didn't need to go outside--she just wanted me up and moving about the house. She knows she is allowed on two pieces of furniture--Jacob's bed and the overstuffed chair in my office--once clean duck, not dirty gray. So last night, Jacob had her up in my bed with him, and today on the couch. I said "I have two spoiled babies," and Jacob replied, "Yes,  you do."
For years, like my father before me, I've fought the squirrel/bird feeder battle. The last few years I've had a caged bird feeder with traps that close up when anything heavy lands on the little perches. Small birds are just heavy enough to open the traps and release seed. Sorry, doves and mockingbirds--eat what falls on the ground. But tonight I found a squirrel on there--three times. I'd bang on the grate on the indoor greenhouse window, and he'd scurry away--only to come back, perch in the tree and glare at me. We did this about  three or four times before he finally gave up. I don't think he was getting any bird seed anyway.
In spite of prank callers and squirrels, life is sure sweet with children, dogs, birds, and lovely weather.

Some thoughts on a social day

I had breakfast, lunch and dinner at the Old Neighborhood Grill today, the small but wonderful restaurant that figures so prominently in my Kelly O'Connell Mysteries.
Breakfast was the monthly meeting of the Book Ladies,, most of us now retired from careers that had something to do with books. We have two authors, me and Carol Nelson Douglas, a former reviewer who has contributed chapters to textbooks, retired librarians, and so on. Sometimes we talk about books--who's reading what, etc.--and sometimes we talk politics. Sometimes, as with most groups of women our age, the talk degenerates into health care but that's rare. Today it turned briefly to the writing careers of Carol and me and how many books we have each written--and then Carol gave us the history of the ebook rights contracts that have tied up profits for so many authors. Trying to be modest about my diet, I had one egg over easy, a thick slice of orange, and half a piece of toast to slop up the yolk.
Lunch with a friend I don't see often enough but we always laugh and have a great time, mostly talking about families and grandchildren. Genie was good enough to help me once with a major injury for a character in one of my books--because she'd had that injury and one of her daughters is a physical therapist. Once again, we were good--all side vegetable dishes.
Tonight was neighbors' night at the Grill, an occasion Jacob rally looks forward to, especially now that friends Subie and Phil Green are back in town and bring Phil's seeing-eye dog, Santiago, to dinner. I'm not sure who Jacob likes best--Phil, Subie, or Santiago. Tonight he went so far as to determine the seating arrangement. I had a slice of meatloaf and some green beans--but I snacked on some of Jacob's fries with ketchup. Surely my diet will forgive.
Came home just in time to meet Jacob's parents and they sat for a glass of wine. So all of a sudden, it was nine o'clock, I hadn't written a word on the novel, and I was too sleepy. But you know the lesson of the day? Enjoy sociability when it comes your way. I can always work. I saw a blurb on msn.com today about how loneliness can lead to an early grave, and tonight I thought how fortunate I am to have such an active social life, so many friends. I don't have drop-dead deadlines except those I impose on myself because I'm compulsive, and probably this is the time of life to relish the joy that comes my way. (Jacob kindly informed the whole table of my age tonight.)
It reminds me of a self-help tape I had for a long time: "Life is Uncertain. Eat Dessert First." The other afternoon Jordan, Subie and I were contemplating my new living room arrangement, when Jordan asked, "Did your realize Jacob just went and helped himself to ice cream?" No, I hadn't, and I really encourage him to ask first--to prevent constant snacking. But before I could protest, she called out, "Jacob, did Juju teach you that sometimes it's okay to eat dessert first?" I honestly did one night recently when he was in a funk. My own lessons come back to haunt me.
But I like today's lesson about enjoying my family and friends at this point in my life. A thousand words a day suddenly doesn't seem that critical..

The Dreamcatcher

I bought a dream catcher in Santa Fe, a small one because they were cheaper and because I thought a larger one might be too showy (actually I bought it in Chimayo, which is a great place for magical beliefs because of the healing dirt found in its sanctuary). For those who don't know, a dream catcher is a leather-bound circle, with a web in the middle and a central open space. Feathers and beads hang from the outside circle. Clearly a reproduction of a plains Indian artifact.
I thought it would catch my creative dreams and save them for my writing. After all, the other night I dreamt the opening of the sixth Kelly O'Connell novel--it's just that it wasn't really a dream. I was only half asleep and I was recalling actual events.
I figured dream catchers were kind of trendy because my daughter-in-law said my oldest granddaughter had one for a while. What? She got rid of it? I may have to discuss that with her, but my list of things to talk to her about grows. For instance, she didn't like To Kill a Mockingbird. To me, that's unpatriotic or something.
Today I read the tag on the dream catcher--it catches bad dreams in its web and holds them, while good dreams escape through the hole in the middle--wait! the good dreams are the ones I wanted to hold on to. Anyway the legend goes that with daylight the sunshine disintegrates the bad dreams, which is all to the good. I'm a heavy dreamer, sometimes dark, and I almost always remember my dreams, though I may forget them shortly after I wake. On the other hand, some stay with me for a long time. Once I came to the office and reported one to Melissa, my colleague, who has ever after said to me, "I hated being peed on by that possum." It's true--it was in my dream. I think we had discovered a family of possums in the building's courtyard the day before.
Anyway, today I hung the dream catcher in the window. Jacob looked at it and demanded, "What is that?" When I told him, he walked over to examine it and then said, "You don't really believe that do you, Juju?"
"Yes, I sort of do."
"It doesn't make sense. It's not true." Ah, a practical child of the 21st century. I refrained from reminding him that he still believes in elves at Christmas...and Santa too!
"Well, is it okay if I kind of believe it? I'd like to."
"I guess so," he said with a sigh as he walked away. I continue to have faith. Jacob sometimes thinks his grandmother is crazy.

Winter storm mode

It's here. The freezing rain. Apparently the "major event" will come about midnight, but it's cold and wet and miserable. The dog keeps wanting to go out and then wanting to come back in the minute she goes out.  Jacob is tucked in hid bed, watching TV, though I'm about to roust him out for tooth-brushing. I have tried but I can't quite get him to understand the idea of a total power outage. Gave him his own flashlight that he is to keep by him all the time but NOT play with. But he doesn't understand about no heat, no lights, no cooking--he will expect his waffles in the morning. I of course am afraid the power will go off in the middle of the night. But I'm resolved not to bring any more bridges up here. We're in the house probably for the next two-and-a-half days, and we'll have to make the best of it.
Jordan just called--she and Christian are safely in Austin, a trip that worried me but she wants so badly to go to the John Mayer concert tomorrow night. Christian gets stars in his crown for undertaking the drive. Who knows when they'll get back to Fort Worth?
All my worries earlier in the week about getting Jacob to and from school Friday faded when the FWISD called his mother (robot call) and said school is cancelled. What a relief. On this morning when I can sleep late, he'll probably wake up at seven. Pray he'll quietly watch TV.
Of course this would be the night my internet connection went down--but just on the computer. The TVs were fine. With dread in my heart, I called that automated gentleman; he re-booted; I rebooted; nothing worked. All of this of course took a good deal of time. But then he connected me to a service technician. The technician turned out to be a lovely lady in San Antonio--not India, not the Philippines--who spoke lovely English. We chatted, worked together to figure out the problem, and she even said I'd taught her something. Sometimes all things work to some good.
So here I sit in pjs, sweatshirt, and a shawl over my knees---cozy and comfortable, with The Sound of Music on the TV. By Sunday, Jacob and I may both be bonkers and dislike each other, but for now we're having fun and we're happy. Not supposed to go above freezing until Sunday afternoon--sigh!

Storms and bridges--a lesson in anxiety

 

This picture of me was taken tonight by friend and neighbor Susan Halbower after we attended a dinner and concert at TCU. I post it because I am usually so un-photogenic. My grandfather once told my mom the only place he'd hang her picture was in the barn. She was a beautiful woman, but she didn't photograph well, and she passed that gene on to me. So I'm grateful to Susan for this picture.

It was 81 and sunny today, the best of all fall days. When I stepped out to get Jacob at school, I thought how pleasant it was to be comfortably warm but not hot. So why did I wake up at 5:00 this morning obsessing about sleet and freezing rain? Because by Friday the temperature is to drop 50 degrees and the weather will bring us that dreaded “wintry mix.”

When my brother lived in Colorado and we’d tell him schools were closed, he’d laugh and say, “What you got, guys? An inch?” But snow is one thing; ice is another. And North Texas gets ice.

Anxiety is pandemic. Everyone goes into anticipation mode when the weathermen (weather persons?) first mention ice, sleet and freezing rain. We talk about it for days, dread it, stock up on groceries, act as if the end of the world is coming. Yes, I’ll go to the grocery Thursday morning—my list includes a new flashlight (which I forgot on the hardware run today).

I told Jacob today that this weekend we would use the iPad sparingly (to save some battery for Juju to read) and we might have no TV and no lights. “You and I might spend a cozy time in front of the fireplace,” I told him. “Well, that sounds exciting!” When did seven-year-olds get so sarcastic?

Tomorrow I’ll bring in plants and water those I leave out heavily—most of the herbs should make it without any trouble, but the fern and plumbago I’m trying to save need to come in, as do the bright red cyclamen that Greg planted today for the front porch. He also brought four perfect small poinsettias—just what I wanted for my Christmas decorations. It’s beginning to look like the holidays around here.

Back to worrying. How will I get Jacob at three if it starts sleeting? Jordan assures me neighbors with kids at the school will help, and she’s probably right. I’ll be glad to have my grandson as company Friday and Saturday (his parents are going to a John Mayer concert in Austin). The last time I set my mind to being housebound (the storm that wasn’t), I was alone. I much prefer company! And I know that by Sunday or Monday at the latest, we’ll be moving freely about the city.

I used to know a man who said to me, “Go on. Bring that bridge right on up here.” I’m dragging that storm bridge as hard as I can. And me a kid who grew up in Chicago and lived in the “icebox corner” of Missouri. But still I feel that dread in my bones

Omigosh! I look like a MacBain!

The MacBean Clan Plaid

 

Don't get me wrong. I'm inordinately proud of my Scottish heritage and my membership in Clan MacBean. My house is dotted with Scottish items--a rug in the clan plaid, two hangings featuring the clan crest, a picture of Gillys MacBean who was a hero/martyr at the Battle of Culloden in the 18th century. But my aunts and grandmother had a definite MacBain look, and while I loved them dearly, they were not particularly attractive women--their faces long, with bags under the eyes. An air of sadness or resignation hung over them and showed on their faces. They'd had hard lives--my grandmother gave birth to five children, saw four survive to adulthood; an Anglican minister's wife, she moved her family from one parsonage to another every two years and probably they were as poor as church mice. I have few memories of one aunt, but warm and wonderful ones of the other two--one was crippled in her twenties by rheumatoid arthritis and lived a pain-filled life, a spinster until probably her sixties when she married the widower next door who helped her turn faucets and jar lids that her disfigured hands couldn't handle. I spent more time with the third aunt--I called her Ha, though I don't know why. Ha took a cynical attitude from her difficult childhood but she married a sophisticated fun-loving man, enjoyed life, and one summer when I stayed with her for two weeks, treated me more as a friend than a child.
That MacBain look worked well on my dad--a man of great moral certainty, a leader with great self confidence, strong liberal leanings, and an inbred sense of right and wrong. Even the jowls looked okay on him. But I didn't want the MacBain look and yet I find it on my face more often as I age.
This all came up today because I was trying to take a picture of Jacob and his anteater project with my new iPhone 5s that I don't really understand. He took it from me and took about twelve videos of himself, which I managed to erase. But the phone was stuck on that mode where it tried to take a picture of me, rather than what I was looking at. If the phone is just below your face, it's not an attractive look.
Jacob and I practically fought over the phone, with him assuring me he knew how to fix it--he didn't. I finally wrested it from him, switched its focus, and got a good picture of him with his project. It really is impressive, depicting the habitats of anteaters--forests, swamps, and grasslands.

Hard to settle down to homework after all the hilarity with the camera. No, I'm now showing those pictures.

Anteaters, first frost, and why am I so compulsive?

Thanks to Jacob, I now know more about anteaters than I ever thought I would...or really cared to. He gave his oral presentation today and apparently it went well. I remember dry throat, shaking knees, all that anxiety when I had to stand up in front of a class at his age. He's so much more assured and self-confident.
Preparing for the freeze had me all in a tizzy today, but I realize I owe so much to people who take good care of me. The Bundocks, Lewis and Jim, came and wrapped my pipes, some of which are where I can't get to them. Then Greg came and we put plants inside, put hanging baskets in sheltered corners, and I watered them well. Praying for the best. Watered everything but I know the vinca, fountain grass and other things will go. Brought in all the basil and will preserve it some day soon. (Rally meant to do it today). Harvested parsley (wonderful crop this year) and chives. Guess I've done all I can.
I was also being my most compulsive worst this morning. Needed to go to my doctor's office--20 minutes away-to get something, and decided I absolutely had to go there before my 8:30 breakfast group. So of course I woke up at 5:30, couldn't go back to sleep, got up at 6:30 and was at the dr.'s before they opened up. Back home with ten minutes to spare for a Book Ladies breakfast, which was thoroughly enjoyable. Back home with 45 minutes--the time Greg came--before a 10:00 a.m. interview. The neighbor who interviewed me said I seemed like a very patient and calm person, and I wanted to say, "Boy, have you got the wrong girl!" Then rushed off to an 11:15 lunch with a cheesemonger friend--interested to hear all her reports and exciting plans for the future. She has evidence that cheese makes us healthy, not fat, and she's lost 11 lbs. in 11 mos. A good steady rate
The day went back to normal after that--nap, homework with Jacob--he had a hard time focusing--a brief visit from Jordan, and then Jacob and I were off to the Old Neighborhood Grill for supper with the neighbors. He was delighted to see them, and it was apparently mutual. I am grateful for neighbors who welcome him to an adult dinner and include him in the conversation.
Now, Jordan has been to pick up Jacob, and Sophie and I are settling down to our routine. An early night, I think.

Supper and suspended animation

The movers came today and packed up Elizabeth's apartment. She is out there with one bed, two straight chairs, a refrigerator and a microwave. I urged her to come in to read, work on her computer, anything but to be in such a bare, depressing space. She hasn't yet, though she spent some of the afternoon inside, and together we helped Jacob think of rhyming words for his spelling list. He is so enamored of her that he looked to her for every word, and when I ventured something he'd ask her to confirm it. I finally demanded, "Why are you looking at her? I'm the one with a Ph.D." and we all collapsed in giggles. Come now, what can you think of that rhymes with whiskers?
I'm not sure the impact of her leaving has hit him and he will be bereft. The first thing every day when he comes home from school, he rushes out to see Elizabeth. Sophie knows. She sits by Elizabeth's side and stares at her. Funny how dogs can sense these things. Sophie had a high old morning watching the movers at work and one of her favorite people, Greg the lawn guy/neighborfriend, came to say goodbye to Elizabeth.
Tonight we had dinner together and both realized it was our "last meal"--tomorrow night I have class and she has a happy hour with our neighbors, to which of course I'm invited. I said it would probably be going when I get home at 8:30 and she agreed. But tonight we had our favorite meal--salmon cakes. Elizabeth makes them with egg, almond flour (gluten free), salt and pepper--and that's it. I usually add onion, Worcestershire, and dry mustard--but these are so good I think the seasonings are superfluous. My mom taught me to make croquettes with cracker crumbs and then press crumbs into them for a coating. She also taught me to shape them like logs. I think I'll continue to use cracker crumbs but not coat the cakes--the crumbs don't stay on and they tend to burn. And I'll make patties, not logs. Much easier. A cooking lesson from Elizabeth.
We rounded out our meal with asparagus, a bit of leftover cantaloupe, and raspberries, which I ordinarily hide in the back of the fridge and don't share with anyone. Elizabeth knew it was a special occasion. The plates were so pretty we couldn't resist a picture.
I told Elizabeth she'd have to leave something behind to insure that she'd return. So far, she's left a hula hoop (forgot to ask the movers to take it) and a rickety laundry rack which she didn't think would survive the trip. I told her that wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but she's also leaving a cute little metal pink chair. If I put a plant on it. I'll keep it in front of the apartment, with a plant on it.
We live in suspended animation. I finally told her last night that I would be glad when she's gone (she'll spend Friday night with her family and fly out Saturday) simply because the anticipation will be over and her leaving will be a fait accompli. She is anxious for Saturday and her new life because, as she says, "Let's get this show on the road." It's all a funny learning experience.
Tomorrow she and neighbor Jay (the good-looking one) will move my furniture from storage back into the apartment, so it will be less bare. Dilemma: do I want to keep those double bunk beds? They proved to be most unwieldy and they take up a lot of space. As Elizabeth kept repeating, I could do all kinds of things out there if I didn't have the bunk beds. Guess I'll poll my children and see what they think.
Life moves on, and changes are good though they may seem hard at the time. As my mom always said, all things work to some good end. But, then, Mom had a lot of sayings, like "The mills of the gods grind extremely slowly but they grind extremely fine." Go figure!

Late nights on the deck and the hairy puppet

Taken at Elizabeth's going away party

Note Jacob's Phillies shirt, given him by Elizabeth

and the man she's leaving us to be with



Elizabeth and I have developed the habit of meeting on the deck for a glass of wine to end the day. It’s a time for reflection, deep thoughts, silly comments, and whatever. As the time for her move approaches, we find ourselves more often in deep thoughts—a whole new life for her, a big adjustment for me.

But Saturday night Jacob was with us, and we were all downright silly. In packing, Elizabeth had come across a hairy puppet she’d had for years. She gave it to Jacob. At first I thought it was just plain ugly, but that night when she began to make it talk and dance, I was enchanted. So was Jacob, who named it Harry. Sophie thought it was another dog and was less entranced—she went from curious to jealous (she did that last night too with Jordan’s two dogs here—I guess a second dog at my house is not a good idea). Elizabeth is really good at making Harry look and act like a character from Sesame Street, all in pantomime. Harry doesn’t talk.

We sat and laughed and giggled at Harry’s antics and stayed up far too late. Jacob went to bed at eleven-thirty, much to his parents’ dismay the next day. He said he likes to stay here because he gets to stay up so late. Not sure if that’s a gandmother’s privilege or my weakness. He asked if he could still have five minutes TV after he got in bed, and I said yes but when I went to turn it off he was already half asleep.

Jacob slept with Harry that night, but the next day Sophie still wasn’t reconciled to the puppet. If Jacob left it on the bed, she jumped up on the bed to get it. If he carried it around, she jumped at him. I’m glad to say that Harry has gone home to Jacob’s house. Much as I enjoyed his antics, I’d be glad if he didn’t visit too often.

But Harry will be part of Elizabeth’s legacy after a year of living in my garage apartment. She also leaves me a new fridge and a microwave in the apartment…but I’ll talk about her greatest gift tomorrow.

One of those days

 

A highlight of my day: Jacob clowning with Sophie

Notice the toothless smile

 

I started out the day efficient and happy, feeling good. By 7:30 I was dressed, hair washed, bed made, kitchen in order, and it was a good thing because the electricians arrived at 7:45 to put outdoor plugs on the deck. But then the morning went downhill: my computer froze for an hour (thanks, Facebook)--which totally disables me for any work I intend to get done. I finally called the Help Desk at TCU and for the first time ever was told that since it was a private computer they didn't support it. Apparently I can only call about email problems. But the guy did give me one hint, and I held down the power button for a long time to get it to turn off. When it rebooted, it was fine, but it happened once again during the morning, and I am now forever leery of Facebook. Then the electrician had to cut the power to  two breakers or whatever they are, and they weren't labeled, so he didn't know what would go off and would I please turn off my computer. I did, and shortly they told me I could turn it on again. The final insult of the morning was spending thirty minutes on the phone trying to get my prescriptions transferred from one mail-in pharmacy to another, since my insurance changed (not through my choice). The people who handle that give the same speech to so many people so many times a day that they rattle it off mechanically at a rapid rate. No matter how many times I said, "I'm a little hard of hearing. Could you please slow down?" she continued to speed through her rote speech.

By the time friend Jean came to get me for lunch, I was exhausted. But we had a good lunch at King Tut--Egyptian food. I had meat sambosa dipped into cucumber sauce (which I love) and really good hummus. And we had a good visit. Cheered me immensely after my bad morning.

And I actually did get some editing down on the manuscript I'm working on for my publisher--have now started on the second time through and it's going much more smoothly because I know what I'm doing and looking for. The first time through someone else's manuscript is like a get-acquainted trip.

Jordan and Jacob came by about 4:30--her happy hours are going to do me in. But we had a good visit, and I've worked all evening. Elizabeth should be home soon, and we'll meet on the deck for rat watch--but that's another story.

It as almost but not quite a day that made me feel I'm a full-time writer.

Vacation Bible School

I don't remember ever hearing about Vacation Bible School as a child in Chicago--maybe it's a new thing, or maybe it's a southern thing. But every summer at Fort Worth's University Christian Church, and at churches all over, signs go up saying it's time to sign up. My children never went, though I'm sure they could have. Jacob went for the first time this year. Today, the last day, he brought home a yard sign he'd made and proudly pounded it into my front yard. His mom and I aren't sure what it says: I say "Whom will you serve?" (shaky grammar) and she says "Who will you save?" Anyway, you get the point, and you can see the pride in his face.
He also brought home stained glass cross with wind chimes hanging from it. HIs mom oohed and aahed over it and asked what he was going to do with it. Proudly he said, "I'm going to give it to Elizabeth," and Mom said, "Oh," with a bit of disappointment. But Mom and Dad got a cute picture of Jacob, framed with stars representing the people and things he loved--I wasn't included but oh well, the dogs were.
In the car today I asked if he liked VBS and he said, "Yes, it was fun learning about God. I mean I knew about God before, but now I know much more." Isn't that what it's all about? He wants to go back next year.
The last two days, however, he has snookered me into believing his folks said he didn't have to go back to day camp but could spend the afternoon with me. Caused a bit of an uproar today because they really hadn't said that. They'd even delivered his lunch box to the day camp. But I told them I thought even a seven-year-old should have some say in what he does, as long as it doesn't become a habit. And I told him that sometimes it's best not to argue but to say, "I made a mistake. I'm sorry and I won't do it again." We rushed up to the day camp (a whole block away) to retrieve the lunch that had been left for him there, so they wouldn't have that added irritant. Haven't heard what happened yet.
But I will tell you that being a grandparent gives you a whole different perspective. I don't know that I was ever harsh with my children--I hope not--but I think I see more these days (and perhaps Jacob is teaching me) the value of listening to the child and letting him have a say in his life. Gosh, why don't we know the things at thirty or forty that we know in our seventies?
 

Rescue: A story for dog lovers

Jacob, my Fort Worth grandson, was afraid of dogs until two years ago when I brought Sophie home Now he's a confirmed dog lover, and he's wanted his own dog ever since. Mom Jordan wanted one too but agreed with Dad Christian that with them both working full time and Jacob in school, it wasn't the time. They sure couldn't train a puppy. But Christian harbored a longing for a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. When I said "Yippy little dogs with lots of energy," he said no, "They were bred to sit quietly on King Charles lap." It seemed a moot point until this week.
Jordan had begun to suggest they just walk through the humane society, but Christian knew what would happen. So he got on the King Charles rescue site and located a pair of sisters, ages four and five. Their owner died, and the widow couldn't cope. Crate trained, housebroken, calm, vetted--just right. After talking with the rescue society four times yesterday he arranged for the family to go to Waco this morning. It seems they would not let him go get the dogs and bring them home to surprise Jacob. They wanted to interview the whole family. I guess they passed muster, because the picture above is Jacob in the car between the two dogs, June Bug on the left and Cricket on the right, on the way home.
Jacob is euphoric. They don't jump on people (Sophie does but a spray bottle has almost broken her) and they don't bark. They seem to be adjusting well as this picture shows.

Tonight Jacob is at my house for a few hours but won't spend the night because he wants to be with his dogs--Christian hopes they'll sleep on his bed with him. As is too usual, Jacob's watching TV and I asked if he's all right, after supper. "No, I miss my dogs!"
Tomorrow is Father's Day, and Thursday is Jacob's seventh birthday--a perfect age to take some responsibility for dogs--so the dogs are a joint present, though Christian maintains they are for Jacob's birthday. He did not grow up close to dogs, and I think he's anxious for Jacob to have that experience.
I'm proud to say that all four of my children now have rescue dogs. Only Mom, the big advocate for rescue, has a kennel-bred dog. Sometimes it makes me feel a bit guilty, but I do love Sophie. Tomorrow I meet Cricket and June Bug--love those buggy names.

Hong Kong bound (not me) and some mental processing

My youngest son owns his own toy manufacturers' sales representative company and travels to Hong Kong two or three times a year on business. Since he is, by heritage, half Greek and half Chinese, he has biological ties to Hong Kong though he's never met his biological parents and shows no interest--but still those trips are a nice connection to his heritage. This time, he took his oldest daughter (my oldest granddaughter), Maddie, who turns 14 today. It's hard to tell which of them is more excited, but the happiness in the photo above is so obvious you can almost reach out and touch it. I am overjoyed for them. Of course, I cautioned him not to let her eat street food, and he said she had to (she's an adventuresome eater). Turns out her mom gave him the same instructions but knew he wouldn't abide by them so got Maddie a Hep A shot. They'll be gone a week, and for the first time in all his business trips, he's going to take time to explore the city and show it to her. It will be an adventure she'll remember the rest of her life. Need I add she's very much her daddy's girl?
Meantime, back at home, I'm having a hard time processing this TIA business. I decided TIAs happen to other people, not me! I woke this morning and had a moment's confusion coming from a deep dream to the reality of the day--had to orient myself to what day it is and what was on my schedule, and for a moment, I thought, "Oh, Lord, it's happening again." It may, and I know that, but not likely twice within one week--and it may never happen again. I have to work to separate myself from my mom's medical history. I always thought she had a series of TIAs that sent her spiraling into the senility that marked her last years...and I don't want to go there. My brother said my other theory is right--I've had better medical care and medicine has come a long way in the 26 years since Mom left us.
When I process a major life event--and I consider this one--my faith always comes into it, not that I think God sent a TIA to punish or warn me. But I have watched friends deal with the health problems of aging--hip and knee replacements, stroke, even cancer--and I have somehow felt immune, as though I were protected by a white light. Now I know that's not so. It's a lesson in humility, in my own mortality, and in thinking about my future and what I'm meant to do with the rest of my life. I think it will take me some time to stop watching for symptoms and to get my confidence back.
Meantime today I drove--first time since last Monday--which, as Elizabeth says, always feels like you're on Mars. Wore myself out going to two groceries and starting to fix Sunday supper. Tonight Jacob comes to spend the night. I will be glad for his sweet company, and I have vowed to be around and in good intellectual condition until I see him graduate from college and walk down the wedding aisle. Maybe he'll do all those things at an early age:-)

Inertia

Inertia, I've decided, breeds inertia. I stayed home alone all day. Not deliberately, but I had nothing I needed to do outside the house--no lunch date, no grocery shopping. If I went out mindlessly, I'd end up spending money. And I did have things to do at my desk. So I stayed home. But I felt sluggish, tentative, etc. When I looked in the mirror, I was surprised to see that I looked normal.
Jordan and Jacob came by at noon--a slight break--and then about five Jacob arrived to spend the night, and my day has brightened a great deal. We watched the news together--who knew a six-year-old is that interested in what goes on in the world? But at the end he clasped his hand to his forehead and said, "A bomb, a fire, and now a flood. This has been a bad violent week!" I agreed. It's been a hard week on all of us.
After the news, we had happy hour in the backyard--sparkling cider in a flute for him, chardonnay for me, and lots of love for the dog. Jacob ran out to get a small decorative pail or metal basket by Elizabeth's door, filled it with ice, and put my wine and his in it to carry outside (I really should have gotten a picture). Sophie discovered some kind of buzzing bug in the grass and carried on, nosing up to it, then jumping back in alarm. Jacob declared it was a bee, but I suspect a wasp of some sort--the sort I'm allergic to.
Jacob is watering Elizabeth's plants while she's away. He watered this morning and started to do it again this evening, but I warned him about the dangers of over-watering. So he carefully felt the soil in each pot and discussed which one was moist--most--and which dry. He can discuss minutiae endlessly.
We finally came in for a dinner of leftovers--barbecue, which last night he said was sloppy Joe and tonight he refused to eat, beans, carrots, tomatoes, and broccoli. He ate medium well and has just, at 7:45, announced that he's hungry. Endless.
Tomorrow we'll go to church and a friend is coming for dinner, so I can banish inertia. But it's an insidious disease.

More neighborhood notes

Jacob, his mom, and Sophie

I'm still thinking about my neighborhood. Late this afternoon Jacob went to the neighbors behind me to play. When I went to pick him up and get him ready for his baseball game, they were all down the block, looking across the street. A blue heron was perched in another neighbors' shrub, standing tall and erect, almost like one of the statues they have on their porch railing. I drove in that driveway (on a separate errand) but the bird never moved, never flinched. Jacob thought it was cool. It's not everywhere that people, and children, get so excited about a rare bird.
Tonight, while he was at his game, I saw on the porch and read--so peaceful and quiet, except for lots of birdsong. Wish I was better about identifying various birds and their songs. Lots of walkers, many with dogs, went by, along with bikers. Lately I've noticed an unusual number of men riding bikes with baby carriages--those little cocoon-like things--attached to the back. Today I saw one brave soul with one of those plus a toddler strapped to a child's seat directly behind him. Brave soul! I said as much aloud, and Jacob asked, "Why is he brave?"
Jacob is still at his Little League game, something I have mixed feelings about. Last night, his dad had to interrupt his planned evening to take him to a game; tonight another boy's grandmother picked him up, because his parents are both busy and my knee is not up to tramping around a baseball field--I'm not sure my psyche is either; tomorrow his parents will take him to an evening game. Three games in three nights? There goes the weekend. And tonight he'll be sweaty and dirty; if he's going to church with me, he needs a shower. He's used to baths--at home--so this will be an adventure.
I don't think Jacob knows his neighbors at home or has playmates on the street, so that's another plus about the neighborhood. He's getting a sense of neighborhood and friends. Jay and Susan next door pay a lot of attention to him, and he has Sam and his little brother behind us for playmates (I swear I want a gate between the yards). But it's one of the things I'm glad I can offer him.
And the other, a big one, is that I've taught him to love dogs. When Sophie was tiny, she bit and jumped so much, as puppies do, that he didn't like her, so he turned to my Aussie, Scooby. We lost Scooby last summer, and Jacob and Sophie are not almost inseparable. They spend hours outside, running, wrestling, playing fetch. From being afraid of dogs, he's gone to being a dog lover.
Life is good. Sorry I've rambled but that's the way my mind is working tonight.

Spring is here

My gardeners at work

It wasn't cold this morning for the first time, and tonight Elizabeth and I had the first dinner of the year on the front porch, so I'm sure spring is here. But the biggest sign: Greg, the neighbor who cares for my lawn and garden, took Jacob and me to the nursery shopping today. We got herbs, a hanging basket, another lantana--that on one side of the front steps is looking sad, fountain grass, sweet potato vines, parsley, a flowering blue plant whose name I can't remember, and a dusty miller. Jacob pointed to the dusty miller, and Greg said, "No, we're not getting that." Jacob asked why not, and Greg said, "Cause it's an ugly plant." But Jacob liked it, so we bought one for him and put it in a pot where it can't do much damage. We forgot sage (mine died) and a cherry tomato plant, which I really want. Jacob piped up and said he loves them, so I'll go back, maybe next weekend.
Then Greg put him to work planting, loosening old soil in pots, etc. Jacob loved it--so much better than an out-of-school morning spent watching TV. And my porch is beginning to look like spring again.
Elizabeth is gradually sprucing up the back yard, which I've pretty much left a dog yard all these years. She's added statues, including a Buddha, and bird feeders (she now fills the one I had too) and plans pots and hanging baskets. Let's hope Sophie behaves. We've also put a table (on extended loan from Jordan) and four chairs (from my storeroom) out there. Greg griped and moaned but admitted he can move them ever week to mow. I'm seriously considering a small deck at the back door.
Earlier in the day, Jacob and I went to get my hair cut. Out of the blue he asked, "Juju, when are you going to get married again?" Me: "I don't think I'm going to." Jacob: "Why not?" My first reply was inappropriate: "Well, I tried it once and it wasn't much fun." When he said "What?" I amended it to, "Don't you think I'm kind of old?" Matter-of-factly he said, "Yeah, you are old." Thanks, Jacob. Then later he picked up the stylus I used with my iPhone if I want to send a wordy text and said, "Can I take this home?" I said no, and he asked, "Can I have it when you die?" Little ghoul!
But it was a good day.

Getting back to work

Getting back from a trip complicated by the switch to daylight savings time has made it hard for me to get back to routine. Though I have to protest--against a swarm of complaints about the switch to daylight savings time, I love it, love the extra light at night, the darker mornings. And then there was Jacob's sickness--he had a stomach bug over the weekend which really worked to my benefit: I had two delightful dinners at their house, though I was dismayed by how lethargic he was. Even woke in the night worrying about him--lethargy is generally not in Jacob's vocabulary. He was to go to his other grandparents Sunday but was too sick, so Monday, after a trip to the doctor, I got the fun (?) of getting 2 oz. of Pedialite down him every fifteen minutes to get fluid into his severely dehydrated little body. He was cross, cranky, stubborn, and sleepy. Not the best day for either of us. Tuesday he was much brighter, back to his talk-a-bunch self--we ran errands and he was pleased to go inside a post office for what he said was the first time in his life, he wanted to do yoga stretches, etc. We were back on track.
This morning, he went to his other grandparents, my tenant left at 3:20 a.m. for a long weekend trip, and I felt deserted with a long day stretching ahead of me. Not that I didn't have work to do; I just had no enthusiasm for any of it. But the day got better--the man who keeps my house running came to fix a balky door and we had a long visit, discussing among other things a possible deck off the back door. Then I ran the one errand I hadn't done yesterday and decided to treat myself at Central Market--bought a salmon cake and twice baked potato for supper, a meatloaf for sandwiches, and--oh, yes--some chocolate. Brightened my mood considerably.
And, yes, I've done some work since, including writing a guest blog I was a bit baffled about. My crab cake and potato were delicious, though following my new routine I only ate half of each.
I love it when I can get busy on a day that starts out gloomy and end the day cheerfully. I think it's always up to us, a matter of deciding how we'll spend the day. And I didn't want to spend it in a sulk. I'm thinking of the rest of the week as my spring vacation--even slept late this morning. But I admit I'll be glad when we're back in the routine next Monday, homework and all.

A big day an a lot of ways

A part of me will be relieved when today is over. Don't get me wrong--I've got the TV on, and I'm fascinated by the pomp and circumstance. Yes, the networks try to fill time for all those long stretches whle the President is out of sight--in church, at the congressional coffee, etc. Still, it's history, and I find it fascinating. But this morning on the TODAY show I heard a fleeting mention of the President's safety. Matt Lauer, talking about security, said something to the effect that if anything is going to happen, you'd think it would happen today. Add that to a friend's comment last night that a friend of hers thinks someone will shoot the President--though not necessarily today. It's a dark thought I've heard off and on ever since Barack Obama was elected--and I hope to God that it's wrong. So I'll be relieved when the day is over--maybe he will be too. Jordan tells me tonight that she is pretty sure both the Obamas had bullet-proof vests on because they looked bulky when they walked down Pennsylvania Aveneue--but wasn't it gand to see them walking, holding hands!
The ceremony itself was spectacle and wonder, from the President's brief speech to James Taylor, Kelly Clarkson and James Taylor. Mark Shields of PBS described the President tonight as a "happy warrior"--it fits.
Jacob comes home from his grandparents' today, though I won't see him until tomorrow. I've missed him, though most people say, "What a nice break for you." Only the grandmother of one of his close buddies understood when I said, "I'm having withdrawal symptoms." But I have gotten a lot done during these four-and-a-half days. I've steadily added a thousand words a day to my work in progress. I started that on January 2 with a blank first page, and now I have 25,500 words--so I'm a bit ahead of the game. I have a cushion for the days I don't accomplish it. I've been writing those passages in the evening, devoting the daytime hours to chores and, principally, editing a manuscript for my publisher.
This morning in a moment of personal triumph I sent the edited work back to the author. The editing part is fun for me--I like catching the odd phrase, small inconsistency, shaping a manuscript to be what the best it can. On the other hand, formatting and using track changes are enough to drive me screaming from the computer. I saved the work, properly formatted, last night; this morning it had reformatted itself. And track changes puts blue lines, indicative of a change needed, where there is absolutely no change. I finally sent it off with instructions to ignore those problems and simply accept or decline suggested changes and deal with comments.
Yesterday I was particularly efficient--which always gets me into trouble. Kathie was coming for dinner, and I looked forward to giving her the prayer shawl from the ladies of my church and to sharing memories of Rick and tears with her. So I got lots of kitchen things done in the morning  and about ten went happily to my computer, only to realize I'd left the roasting vegetables in the really hot oven way too long. Charred brussel sprouts, beets, and carrots anyone? Now my garbage smells of brussel sprouts, and I have some sympathy for Christian who can't abide the smell of brussel sprouts, broccoli or cabbage cooking. But the evening was good and today it's a warm memory that I treasure.
All in all, a grand day, one to be proud to be an American and proud of our President. But I think I'll be glad to get back to routine days.

Walking on eggshells

This morning I would no more have wanted to walk Jacob across the street to school than I would have wanted to fly. We had thunder snow during the night--a bolt of lightning woke me just as my furnace kicked on, and in my daze I thought, "The furnace has exploded." But the flash of light was soon followed by thunder. When I got up and looked out, the ground was white, though the streets and sidealks were merely wet. Still it looked like there were patches of ice here and there. Because I'm a worrier and because I'm terrified of falling, I began to worry about getting Jacob at three. Of course, by then, the streets were dry and it was fine--though darned cold.
It was a perfect day to be a recluse, and I stayed in all day. Did my yoga and got a lot down on the manuscript I'm editing. Had a pimiento cheese sandwich for lunch--yum!--and a good nap, and then it was time to get Jacob. We did all his homework--math exercise, reading, essay in response to the book, a pre-test for spelling, and alphabetized his spelling words. Bless him, he'd look at me occasionally and say, "Are we having a good day so far?" I assured him we were. (We didn't have a good day yesterday because he wouldn't focus, and I grew impatient--we both vowed today to change our ways!)
Tonight it was tempting to stay inside with the fire in the fireplace, but I also liked the idea of company, so I went to meet neighbors at the Grill and have my meatloaf fix. Cold coming home, and I dreaded the walk down the dark driveway--motion sensitive lights but there's a gap and a time limit. And I did what I know better than to do--I faltered, and once my confident stride was broken, I was a mess. I ended up taking the funniest route to the house you can imagine--holding on to the fence, then hobbling across the drive to a tree and then the side of the house until the lights kicked in.
I know that about walking and anxiety. If I lose my confidence, if I break my stride, anxiety kicks in, and I feel that I cannot take another step. But if I keep walking confidently, I'm fine. I'm glad no one saw me scramble tonight, and yet I've learned to tell myself that I did okay. I made it into the house. Elizabeth did not find me lying in the driveway when she came home.
Almost everyone feels anxiety, but for some of us it can have disabling effects. Mine takes the form of this fear of walking and falling. Those who don't know say "It's all in your head." Yes, it is, but it's very real, and the numbers of people in this country who suffer from anxiety to a disabling degree would astonish many.
Most days I do just fine. I've learned to deal with it. But it does come creeping up to bite me, and tonight was one of those times. I'll just have to keep walking down that dark driveway, with confidence--and a walking stick. If that's the worst of my burdens, I am blessed indeed.