The Week that Was

This has been the week that was--final edits, proofing a final draft, finding typos right and left, plus more major events like the death of my neighbor's mother--I devoted one day to cooking for that family. Then there was the book signing in Dallas, a luncheon speech (brief) today that was fun but took a chunk out of my day, my memoir class tonight, and I honestly can't remember what else. Tomorrow is the service for Susan's mother, and then I must make potato salad for 20-25 people--I'm a bit daunted by that task. And tonight I still have to empty the dishwasher, and early tomorrow start the laundry and run to Central Market. I feel like I'm on a treadmill.
Managed a half hour nap today between getting home from the luncheon and getting Jacob. Slept so soundly that I was really sleepy when the alarm went off. Got him home, fed him peanut butter and sparkling cider, homework done (didn't take long), and (Oh, guilty conscience) put him in front of the TV, his preferred place, and went back to bed until his mom came. She was in a hurry, so they rushed out the door--when I asked Jacob for a hug and a kiss, he said, "Kiss the top of my head." Indignantly, I said, "I will not." But they weren't out of the driveway until I was back in bed and stayed there until Linda came for supper.
Saturday is our big family reunion at my brother's ranch, Sunday brunch at Jordan's (I have to make a cinnamon pull-apart coffee cake), and then I guess they'll all head for home. I'll probably head for my bed.
Come Monday I'll tackle that growing "to be done" stack on my desk. Meantime, I look forward to the weekend so much. Just wish I didn't feel like my motor is running too fast. The hectic life is not for me!

A day of oops moments

Whoosh, what a day. I served eggs, bacon and biscuits to my Canterbury guests at eight this morning--the  time I'm usually just barely getting organized for the day. Was supposed to have them at the church by 9:30, but first they got locked out of the apartment, a problem complicated by muddy dogs--I thought I would have to change clothes to deal with it. We got that bit of excitement solved, but they dawdled and it was 9:50 before I got them to the church. Rushed home to read emails and do whatever. At  eleven, Jeannie and I went up to the Star--our friends' restaurant where the choir was to lunch--to see if we could be helpful. We sat around, alphabetized name placards, then decided to put them out on the tables--lots of waiting for the choir people to arrive. But boy oh boy when they did! We ran food from the kitchen to the dining area (down three steps, thank you) more times than I can count. Finally it all settled down and we had lunch. I probably had the shortest nap on record before I had to get Jacob.
I've been losing things lately and today was no exception. I've lost a full set of sheets--no idea where they could be, and I've looked. Today at the Star I thought I lost my walking stick--then found it. Got home and couldn't find my phone--decided I must have left it at the Star but calls to the restaurant and to Betty indicated it wasn't there. I cancelled service. Then I found it in my car and remembered I was checking it when my guests came out to the car this morning. I reached for it at the Star but never got that far because Betty wanted help with something. So once I had the phone in hand, I had to reactivate it, which proved to be complicated with the automated system--finally ended up on chat with two customer reps. Took maybe 30 minutes but I got it reactivated.
Didn't know if Linda was coming for dinner or not before class, as she usually does. Finally caught her, and she wasn't. With a sigh of relief I snuck back into a second nap, ate a leftover hamburger for dinner, and wished I could go straight to bed.
Class tonight was good--such a nice night we met on the porch--there was enough light to read until almost the end of the class. Bugs were a problem, but otherwise a pleasant and interesting evening. Sometimes I feel so inadequate to steer and guide these women, and sometimes one or the other of them is so much better at putting into words what I'm trying to say. Why am I teaching? Because I edit afterwards? Is that enough?
Shooed them out the door, did a couple of things, and went off to pick up my guests at the church. Chris, the adult with my two boys, came in for a beer and we sat on the porch and had a great discussion about his fascination with America, his interest in the American experience and the West, and what he's sensed about Texas since he's been here. Such fun to share ideas with someone you don't know well. I think when we are so familiar with people the exchange of ideas sometimes pales, but a new perspective makes things interesting.
To repeat myself: Whoosh! I'm tired.

Bummer of a day

Bummer all around--or mostly. I went to a "Meet and Greet" at an upscale, high-rise retirement community this morning to meet women who might be interested in my memoir class, but someone had dropped the ball. The energetic, enthusiastic woman who had contacted me and set this up is out on medical leave, and somehow no one else picked it up. Nada. Not one person. So I came home. But I had dressed and gone up there--an hour out of my day that I could have put to better use. Only good was that I visited with my longtime friend, Margie, who now lives there but even that wasn't good. She told me her husband has some new, potentially severe blood disorder--no energy, etc.
When I came home about eleven, it was steamy hot--I opened the car windows. About an hour later, Jordan called to ask if I had a spare jacket for  Jacob. A norther had blown in with the suddenness that happens in Texas and dropped the temperature thirty degrees. Darn cold and damp to boot. It rained but had quit by the time I went to get Jacob. I took one of my down vests which he flatly refused to put on until his teacher asked him if he wanted to miss spring break. At last, reluctantly, he wrapped it around himself for the short walk home.
Linda, who always eats dinner with me before memoir class, bailed today because she didn't feel well and all that rain was predicted (she has an hour drive to get here), so that was another disappointment. I had bacon and eggs for supper instead of the anticipated meatloaf at the Grill, but then someone brought chicken salad and pimiento cheese finger sandwiches to class and I made an absolute pig of myself.
Memoir class is always rewarding--tonight three people presented memories of their childhoods and did a terrific job of evoking time and place. We could smell, hear, see,and feel the places they described, especially a lakefront cabin on Lake Michigan. I grew up with such a cabin, and Mary Margaret's piece tonight made me most nostalgic. Some really good writing comes out of these women, and I am amazed and gratified. We talked a lot about description--how much is too much? General consensus: description draws us in as readers. When we stood in our circle to close the session and said one word about how we felt, mine was enriched. You know what? Maybe it wasn't such a bummer of a day after all.
Stay tuned, please, for blogs to come on the reprints I'm about to get posted as e-books--I'm excited-- and my thoughts on loss of hearing.  Subjects that are rattling around in my brain.

More doggy stories

Kenny the dog trainer came today. Sophie learned "sit" in a snap, but hey! She already knew it. The question for her is "Do I want to sit right now?" Then we worked on not going out the open the front door--she was pretty good about it, but we'll have to see how she does in future practice sessions with me. And always the jumping--we worked as much on my correction technique as we did on disciplining her. She had a real workout, and I expected her to be exhausted tonight--great expectatons don't always pan out. She has found a new chew toy--the Kilim rug I just put back down in the office. Took it up when she wasn't potty trained, had it cleaned, and moved it. Put it back for the fundraiser last Sunday. She bunches it up to make a nice, chewable edge. I'll give it a couple of days with trying discipline. I need to teach her not to chew on it, but I don't want to sacrifice a good rug.
Tonight was memoir class and as always I planned to feed Linda. This time I thought I'd get sandwiches from the artisan bakery in the neighborhood--on their website they list several really enticing combinations, but a tiny note warns that they have different sandwiches on different days. I called. They had a muffaletta with green olives (of course) and another, maybe turkey, with tapenade. I really really do not like olives. Asked if they could make a couple with the olives on the side and was told they were already made (at one o'clock in the afternoon). Hmmm--not sure I want sandwiches for supper that were made in the morning. Called Linda. Helpfully, she said, "I love olives!" When asked if she wanted to go to the Neighborhood Grill (made famous in my Kelly O'Connell mysteries, as if it weren't already the favorite neighborhood hangout) or have salad at the house, she said, again being helpful, "It doesn't matter to me." I said we'd go out; when she got here I had thrown everything in the vegetable drawer into a tossed salad, added a can of tuna, and made a quick dressing. Linda added an avocado she'd gotten in a quick stop at Sam's. Really good.
The snack at memoir class was finger sandwiches made with thinly sliced bagels--sliced vertically and not horizontally as  you normally would with a bagel. One class member works at a church where they have a kitchen operating all day every day (my dream for our church). The cook slices donated bagels and fills them with various things. Tonight we had ham salad on jalopeno bagels and chicken salad on whole wheat. I loved the jalopeno/ham and now have the leftovers--thank you, Claudine. The church also uses this profusion of bagels to feed the homeless once a week.
Memoir class was good as always. We went from a straightforward and well done piece about a family member to a fall-off-your-chair funny excerpt from a novel and ended with a thoughtful and provocative piece about family relationships and not rushing to judgment. Then we all got to talking about yoga, hot yoga, dangerous poses, careless teachers, etc. Tonight the laughter sticks with me and echoes in my ears.

Memoir class

My memoir class met tonight for the first meeting of the spring session. We had four returning members and four new ones, a most interesting mix. Each returnee introduced herself and told a bit about why she keeps coming back, what she's learned, how she's been encouraged by the group. Some of the things surprised me, in a good way, and it was rewarding to hear that they feel they've grown and become more comfortable with their writing. One member writes so well there's no critiquing her except to say what we like about it. Tonight she had us in hysterics with a tale about a newlywed housewife and her mundane existence--must win three hands of solitaire before she begins housecleaning, etc. Two others said that through the class they can see a pattern to their writing now, the outline of the project--both are writing for their families and not publication, but the fourth returnee is writing for publication now and has placed a short story. The new members talked about their insecurity about writing, and I remembered that most of the  class began that way and now they're happy to dispense advice and encouragement to others. What a great experience this has been. I'm enjoying it a lot.
Today started out damp and dreary but by the time I emerged from the eye doctor's office, eyes fully dilated, it was bright and sunny. Instead of going to the retirees luncheon, I opted to close my dilated eyes for a long nap! I have had it with doctor appointments--an echocardiogram Monday, skin tumor removal Wednesday, eye doctor today. Each appoointment turned out fine, but it's a wearing way to spend the week. Tomorrow I have to get up really early to take a friend for a colonoscopy,but that's a different thing. I'll treat it like a vacation and read a lot.
Sunny afternoon lightens anyone's disposition. Jacob and I "made up"--he showered me with love, and I gave him the option of doing homework here or at home. He chose home because I'm "sometimes so bossy about it." I think we're still figuring this thing out, but we will. This afternoon he had sparkling cider and declared we were having a party. I sked if he wanted to go into the office and watch TV there and he said no, he wanted to stay at the table and talk. So we talked. Such fun.
Life is good. May it be so for all of you.

Odd thoughts

I"ve been sitting at my desk, trying to decide if I have any thoughts to blog about. It's almost ten-thirty, Jacob is asleep (he fell asleep with the TV on), the dogs are in their beds, and the house is quiet. A wonderful time of day. Tonight good friends Weldon and Elizabeth came for suppr--leftover pulled pork chili and they brought the salad. Easy way to entertain. We got to talking about people and life, and I said I've decided there are two kinds of people--those who are engaged in life and take charge and those who just let life happen to them. My high school/church/college chum who was here last weekend talked about that when she wrote me that she had enjoyed meeting my family and friends because they were all so engaged in life. I guess I didn't introduce her to those who aren't--and there's probably an obvious reason there. But there are people I worry about because they are so passive--they don't take charge in relationships, health care, whatever. And sometimes those people can drag me down, so I find myself avoiding them--and then I feel guilty. Well, guilt is the first  thing to get rid of, as I preached to my memoir class last night. And often,  you can't help people who aren't engaged in life--they don't see life in the same terms that I do. But I know I'll still keep reaching out, trying to help, trying to change them. I long ago decided I'm a nurturer, a caregiver.
And my memoir class--we had our last fall session last night, and it was a doozie Three people presented papers, and my friend Linda summed it up best when we had our circle closing. We're supposed to say one word about how we feel, but Linda said she couldn't say it in one word because she was so grateful for the women in the room and their depth and complexity. What's said there, stays there but I wish I could share--a short story that led us into a great discussion of the structure of short stories, a woman's comparison of giving birth in the States and England, a cookbook interspersed with memoirs.
Today on Facebook a male friend  said he wished he could find a similar class for men, and I told him to start one. Several women have expressed interest in joining the class, and most of the present class want to come back, so I guess I'll be doing this for a while.
Now, if I could just get those passive people involved. Or maybe I can't save the world.

Golden times

Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver, the other is gold.

That saying has real meaning for me tonight. My best friend from high school is visiting for the weekend. Barbara Bucknell and I even went to off to college in Mt. Vernon, Iowa, together. As she said tonight, she loved it and I hated it. Small town, really small, really strict school--and I was in love with a young man in Chicago. Barbara jumped in to the social life and loved it; I, being a bit shy, never did as well. We still have to have the discussion about what happened to our college roommates--I  remember the name of hers, but only the first name of mine!
Today Barbara is Barbara Bucknell Ashcraft, recently widowed, mother of five, grandmother of fourteen. She and a friend, Pam, came today from Jackson, Mississippi. Neither Barbara nor I are much on driving on the highway, so Pam is the angel that brought us together.
We picked up right where we left off. Barbara's beloved husband, Don, used to complain that all we ever talked about when we got together--there have been lots of visits over the years--was things that happened in the past. I hope he was listening tonight, because all we talked about was children and grandchildren. We really caught up on each other's families, although we semi-keep up all along. I think it's wonderful that our friendship has endured for over fifty years. I was in Barbara's wedding party, and she and her husband celebrated their 50th anniversary a couple of years ago. We have so many ties, so many common memories--and yes, those come out over a glass of wine too. Some funny, some nostalgic, all treasures.
Tonight was also my memoir class, a class where we've agreed what is said there goes no farther. But the class willingly invited Barbara and Pam to sit in. Pam faded midway through and excused herself, but Barbara stayed, participated in the comments, and said she enjoyed the whole thing immensely.

And of course guests give me a good chance to cook. Tonight it was black bean soup with feta and fesh cilantro--colorful and good. I had made some of Jacques Pepin's fromage fort (strong cheese) and I spread it on a portobello mushroom and broiled it, then cut it in small wedges. Great appetizer, if a bit garlicky.
All in all a lovely evening. I'm basking in a happy golden glow. I guess maybe it's all golden, because we are in our golden years. Who would ever have believed when we were going to church together as teenagers that we'd still have so much in common and be so compatible almost sixty years later. I'm tempted to quote one of my mom's favorite sayings: "The Lord works in mysterious ways!"

My theory about getting going

Cold, rainy day, a head cold, and muddy dogs--not a pretty picture. But I proved one of my own theories--when you get up and get going,  you feel better. People used to tease me that I made my children go to school with a 105 temperature--not quite true, but they really had to prove they were sick. Jamie was given to dizzy spells (undiagnosed to this day but almost gone), and I clearly remember one day when he was about seven. He told me he couldn't go to school--he was too dizzy. I said, "Nonsense. Of course you can go to school," and stood him up in front of me. When I let go, he collapsed like a puddle at my feet. Poor baby--I'd say I feel guilty in retrospect but he'd capitalize on that.
I didn't feel up to par Tuesday but felt fine yesterday--because I had to be up and going. An early dental appointment (that had to be rescheduled when I got there), a luncheon where three of us spoke on Grace & Gumption: The Cookbook, and dinner out with Betty at Pappadeaux, long a favorite. But today I didn't have anything on my calendar until time to pick up Jacob--and I began a real downhill slide. Jeannie called to see if I wanted to go to lunch, and I offered a pitiful, "No, thanks. I want a long nap before school gets out." Got the nap, thought I felt better, but sank again as the afternoon wore on. Supper at the Grill with Linda--meatloaf, my favorite--and I barely ate half of it and brought the rest home for tomorrow..
But then my class arrived. I got engaged in their papers and conversation and forgot to feel sorry for myself. Still, I"m going to bed early tonight.
Part of my disaster today: I went out to check the apartment, since the Hudgeonses will be here a week from tomorrow and my good friend Barbara the weekend after that. Found one set of clean sheets, tried to put them on the main bed and realized I was trying to put standard sheets on a queen bed. So then I put them on the bottom bunk--if I ever buy double bed bunk beds again, just shoot me. Took me a good 20 minutes to make that bed. Then I noticed that though the kids had dutifully left the refrigerator door open, they hadn't uplugged it--huge iceball on the freezer compartment. I've been defrosting it and running out to check all day. Think the wood floors will escape undamaged. I had a pristine, unused cat box that just fit into that apartment-size fridge. And in sorting bed clothes, I discovered I'm missing one of the matching comforters I bought for the bunk beds--how does one lose a comforter?
In spite of all I wrote 1500 words today--maybe not golden, but 1500 words. They say persistence is the most important attribute for a writer. My goal is 1500 words a day--but I really missed some with the Austin trip. Going to get after is this weekend--and one day this week I think I did 2500.

A long lazy day--not!

For the first time all week, today I didn't feel rushed. Went about my morning routine, went to the grocery and hardware and was home by 9:30. The whole day stretched before me, and I intended to get some writing done. But first there was a kitchen laundry to do--I do napkins dishrags, kitchen towels, etc. in a separate load, an inheritance from my father's strict sanitation rules. And then there were some other things to do--and it was eleven when I got back to my computer. I bought some really good egg salad at the store and anticipated a light lunch of egg salad, hummus, and sliced cucumber.
All my plans went out the window when I looked at my computer and noticed that the next thing on my calendar was a lunch a week from today--a whole week empty? Surely not, much as I would like it. A second look showed me that the luncheon was today in forty-five minutes. I made it, with barely time to spare. It was the Friends of the Library past presidents luncheon, and I am included as sort of an honorary gesture, which I much appreciate. Saw people I don't see often enough, heard interesting reports from the dean of the library (once my boss)--she is really thinking outside the box and coming up with creative ideas for marketing--and I ate enough for two people. So good. As I was leaving, the dean (June Koelker) called me back. She and a board member wanted to know more about my new book, and pretty soon I was giving a pitch to a room of 35 people! I was already glad I went to the luncheon but that doubled my pleasure.
Hurried home for a quick nap--there went the long leisurely nap I'd antcipated--and then went to get Jacob, who announced he had a party at Legoland this evening. "Who's giving the party?"
"I am."
"Did you discuss it with Mommy?"
"Yes. She said, 'No, no, no.' So see, we discussed it." He was adamant and quite crushed when she arrived and put the damper on things, plus did not approve of the way he'd done his homework. He dashes through it--"Draw a banana like the one in the picture, Jacob"--he drew a straight  line and said, "I don't know how to draw a banana." Poor kid was so downcast when he left it wore me out all over again and I took a second, unheard-of nap.Got up in time to eat meatloaf and spinach with Linda before class.
As always, memoir class was stimulating. Class members are branching out into fiction, and one gave a thorough report on the historical incident behind the novel she plans to write. Another recalled four incidents from her young  years that indicated inappropriate behavior on the part of men, though she was too naive at the time to recognize it. And a third, our queen of short fiction, created a short story about a woman who was convinced David Koresh, having survived Waco, lived in the apartment below her. This woman has a gift for creating eccentric narrators and for reading her fiction aloud, so we ended the evening with lots of laughter.
But my lazy day wasn't.

Beta readers

This week I heard from my mentor--since he doesn't think of himself as a mentor, I think I should now call him my Beta reader. I was never sure about that term but I see it all over the writing lists, so I looked it up: a reader who readers with a "critical eye" with the aim of improving a work for a general audience. Well, my Beta reader, Fred, had several suggestions which kind of all boiled down to I have too many balls in the air in the current work in progress and should eliminate some. I know he's right about at least one plot thread and will eliminate it. Another one I must review. One I'm pretty sure I want to keep, and another solution he suggested I've already solved in a different way--though when I told him, Fred seemed to think that was a good idea. But the one I really should write out will wipe out everything I did yesterday morning, so it kind of set me back on my heels. I'm once again moving ahead  at a good clip, accumulating words toward that goal of a 70,000-word manuscript, so I was dismayed at the thought of writing out a good chunk of it. I tell myself, or try to, that it's quality not quantity that matters. The truth is my March 15 deadline is for a finished manuscript and this is a first draft, so if I stop moving ahead in word count and go back to rewrite and reconsider, it becomes part of the revision process which I will now do sooner rather than later.
But at the same time I found a promotional contest for a new culinary novel--well, really it's sort of a non-culinary mystery because the protagonist is a food critic who knows zilch about cooking or food. There are several steps to this contest: post on Twitter, post on Facebook, buy a copy and submit proof, and finally, write a review. The prize, though, is worth all those steps--fancy digital cooking equipment. So what the heck--I temporarily abandoned my own novel to read Liz Lipperman's Liver Let Die and I'm having fun with it. And I tell myself thoughts about my own novel are simmering on the back burner of my brain. I truly do believe that theory.
Tonight was memoir class, and we had a stimulating evening of some profoundly honest and moving pieces and then one hilarious one plus some really interesting discussions about why you write memoir--one class member says she writes with such honesty she can't share it with anyone outside the class. A new member who says she doesn't know what she wants to write doesn't want to do memoir because parts of her childhood were difficult, she's dealt with them, and doesn't want to relive them. So there was a chorus of suggestions of what she can write about. Another member advocated that everyone has a story to tell and those stories must be captured and preserved. Each person has to decide how to approach memoir, but it sure was an interesting discussion.
Enough complex thinking--I have to get back to reading that mystery.

Friends at Last

My dogs are friends at last, which really means that Scooby, the Aussie above, has decided to accept Sophie. He's twelve years old and has regarded her puppy enthusiasm--and yes, intrusion into his well ordered life--as an annoyance at the least. He'll now play and romp with her for about ten minutes before he gets fed up and goes inside. I leave the door open for his escape. She runs at him, jumps and attacks from all sides. He'll start to chase her, and she's off like the wind. Of course, he can't catch her--neither can I, which is why I leave a leash on her all the time. She gets so excited she tears from one end of the yard to the other and back, running in great wide, sweeping circles, while Scooby barks at her. I don't leave them alone yet--in fact, I don't leave her outside alone. Just not quite ready for that, and I'm afraid Scooby might lose patience. I do sometimes admonish him to be gentle.
Sophie has grown long and leggy, like a teenager, and I've decided that may be where she is in her development. She's rebellious, and one form its taking is to regress in her housebreaking. The vet says not to make a big deal of it, but I'm a little worried about when if ever she'll be trained. Apparrently regression is not unsual. But having had one accident free day, I'm dismayed by four accidents today.  Sometimes I think she's got some stubborn terrier in her, though I don't know much about the poodle half of her. Are poodles stubborn? All I know is they're smart, and she surely is that. One thing she is very good about is crate training--she resists going into the crate but goes when I force the issue gently, and she never utters a sound once she's in there. Tonight she spent the evening in her crate because my class met here.
The class remains a delight. They can tell the most amazing stories--some of which make me feel naive or sheltered or at the least not adventuresome. One woman who says she can't come back in the next session hinted at some things she'd seen and done when young, and we all clamored for her to come back. We want to hear those stories!
I've gotten back to my work-in-progress and it feels good. In fact, I'm a bit resentful of the time other things take. Maybe this weekend I can spend more time at it and really make some progress. No title but I do have a general idea of where the story is going. Fred, my mentor, read the first chapter and said, as he always does, "Slow down!"
The print copy of Skeleton in a Dead Space is still not up on Amazon but should be in a day or two. The publisher has gotten copies and has sent my comp copies to me. Can't wait.
I'm feeling like an author today, a feeling I don't always enjoy.

Somebody please align the planets

My newspaper horoscope today said to let go of pet projects, something I've actually done with a bit of success. But I haven't gone deeper to explore the alignment of the planets and what it means to someone of my sign, Cancer. I don't need to--I know they've been out of alignment for several days.
Yesterday I had to take my car for repair--one of those annoying little warning lights went on. $500 later and at the end of the day I got my seven-year-old VW beetle convertible back, supposedly good as new. Meantime, in the early morning I ended up with five-year-old Jacob, so I took him to the dealership and then shopping with my friend Jeannie. This meant a lot of transferring of the booster seat--not a major problem, just an annoyance. At Tuesday Morning, Jacob spent at least thirty minutes in the toy aisle, walking up and down, commanding, "Stand right there, Juju," and then putting his hands to his head and saying, "Come on, Jacob. Buy something." He finally settled on a really cheap $2.99 toy, which he promptly left at my house.
I had not one but three social engagements last night--and they all fell through. First, two good friends were to come from out of town so I could cook them a gourmet meal and we could have a sleepover. One had a death in the family, and they had to cancel. Then I was invited to a dinner party, with my contribution to be guacamole. I had made a large batch of guac when the host called to say he had gout and was cancelling. I gave most of the guac to my neighbors. They were going to a neighborhood BYOB party and invited me, but by the time I got the car home I decided it was hot and I was tired. Truth be told, I was in a funk.
Today started off better, and I was all geared up to take the cat to the vet. With cats, if you miss that first attempt to put one in the crate, you might as well give up. Yep, I missed, and the cat was on alert. So instead I gave him his hydration treatment, for which he was quite docile--I think he's getting used to it. Then I ran by the vets to exchange their crate for a larger one and went to a TCU luncheon featuring a TCU Press book. While there I discovered that I have double-booked myself for lunch Friday--one appt. at 11 and one at 12. I'm going to camp at the restaurant and the noon people will meet me there. Jordan called to ask if I could keep Jacob after school. A friend had unexpectedly lost her mother and Jordan would be making an extended sympathy call. So I expected her to bring him about 4:15 and happily went to get a nap before that. At 4:30, I woke with a start and called to see where she was--at the friend's house. Where was Jacob? At school. The part of the message I didn't get was that I was supposed to get him. So I rushed off to the day-care, which is only across the street.
Tonight made up some for the confusion. Betty and I took Jacob to The Tavern, which we have discovered is one of our favorite restaurants. She and I split deviled eggs--we'd done that last week and loved them--and then an order of scallops with salad. Jacob had a grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich with lots of good thin fries. Christian came and met us at the restaurant, so I took Betty home and came home to settle down.
Tomorrow doesn't promise to be much better--take the cat to the vet at nine, meeting with a web designer at ten, lunch with a good friend at 11:30, pick up the cat, and come home and prepare for class that night. What can possibly go wrong? A whole lot!

Memoirs and food blogs

Last night, we had a satisfying memoir class, the last of this session. Two women presented, two very different papers, and yet in both cases. I think through discussion they came to see what they were feeling and writing about more clearly. It's so satisfying when that happens. I always feel "on" at these classes because I know as facilitator or moderator or whatever I am, I'm expected to pull things together and make meaningful comments. One of our ladies has missed several meetings because of her husband's illness but she was back last night and wonder of wonders, she had a proof of the first volume of her memoirs. That's a pretty exciting accomplishment for this class, and we all cheered and wished her well. She does not plan to market publicly--this is a book for her family and friends and I'm glad she had no delusions of fame and fortune.
Our next session begins June 23, and most of the ladies are returning. In the year I've taught it I've only had two drop-outs; others come and go, saying they have too many committments for one session but they'll be back. And they do return. We are like a group of sorority sisters or something. One of the women who presented last night said she would never share her piece with anyone else, except perhaps her prayer group, but she felt free to discuss a difficult topic with us. I think she may have inspired me to write a piece and keep it handy in case we ever run out of presentation pieces. It will be titled, "The Road Not Taken," with appropriate bows to Robert Frost.
When class ended last night and I got the kitchen cleaned and myself settled down, I had 80 e-mails. Being OCD, I checked them all--hence no blog. Tonight, I have not much more to blog about. It's a lazy weekend, with Jacob out of town, his mother going out of town. I sort of floated through the day, which was pleasant, but tonight I've been working on my food blog.
I'll post a reminder again--all over, on Facebook, Twitter, whatever--but the first post will be up Sunday night on what I've decided to call Judy's Potluck. Friends Weldon and Beth suggested the name because they thought it implied the community participaton I want--y'all bring something to the potluck! I'll get it started with a few posts and then hope others will jump in with comments, recipes, recollections, even guest columns.
In the initial column, which I drafted tonight, I'll stress that I'm not a professional, trained cook--except by my mom, which was pretty darn good training. But cooking is my avocation, the thing that relaxes me. I guess I'm what they call a nurturer (is that a cliche these days?) but I love to feed people, and I love to try new recipes on guests--and myself. 
I want to hear about your cooking, so I hope you'll join in.
Excuse me, but there's this Diane Mott Davidson book I've been trying to read all day. Gotta go.

Long day, short post

I arranged my day today so I could stay home all day and work--and yet it was lunchtime before I got back to editing my manuscript. I had to read email, read the paper, do a laundry, shower and wash my hair, do my yoga. All that eats up a lot of time. But I did spend a profitable afternoon working on my manuscript.
Tonight my memoir class met for the first time for the spring session. Lovely to have all those women together--they are so fond of each other, so sharing. We had one newcomer, but she fit right in and was the only one who had a piece to share with us. We listened spellbound to her reading about her father's descent into Alzheimer's. It sparked a lot of conversation, because many in the group are of the age where caring for parents is a major concern. Beyond that,  we caught up with each other's news and generally had a good time. I know I'm supposed to be leading this group, but sometimes I have a hard time getting control, because they head off in their own direction.
My longtime friend Linda came early, and we had a tuna supper--albacore tuna (that good stuff from Oregon) spread over greens dressed with a cilantro dressing and then topped with an avocado dressing. I decided to omit the chile from the avocado part but keep the curry. Now I think it would have been wiser to omit the curry and keep the chile--it needed that bite! I fixed pimiento cheese sandwiches for the group and, unfortunately, have too many left over. Sigh. I guess I'll have to eat them tomorrow.

Let the celebrations begin

My memoir classes had a reunion holiday party tonight, for me the first party of the season. Some of these ladies know each other very very well, from sharing their memoirs; others, from different classes, had never met. Yet they all chattered and gossiped and had a wonderful time. We were each to wrap and bring a book that we were ready to pass on to someone else, and then we had a Chinese auction. Elizabeth said she'd never seen such a cut-throat auction, but people kept "stealing" other people's books--for a moment I had a Joanna Fluke cozy that I was really looking forward to reading, but someone stole it, and I ended with a Mary Higgins Clark--hers are terrific mysteries but a bit scary to read when one is home alone. We had great refreshments--including latkes, which I'd been missing, and spanikopita, which I love. Altogether a simply wonderful evening.
'Tis the season in other ways. It seems I spend my time running errands. Today it was a haircut, followed by a trip to get  festive paper plates (does everyone realize how expensive they've become?), then a trip to DSW to look for everyday shoes for me. Nada. The one pair that might have been okay was only ten dollars cheaper than the really neat Merrells I ordered yesterday. Then to the camera shop to leave Jordan's camera to be repaired--6-8 weeks and $125. Oh, my! More errands tomorrow. I can see the Christmas season rushing by without much writing done but, hey, that's okay. I set my own deadlines, and all this holiday stuff makes me happy. That's what retirement is about--doing what you want to do. Though that small voice inside me adds, "Make sure you do for others." Does taking Jordan's camera to the repair shop--which I had a hard time finding--count?

Do you dream in technicolor?

Christmas is coming! I know it because my Christmas cactus is blooming its fool head off! So beautiful.
Do you dream in technicolor? I dream in vivid color, with sound and touch sensations--I distinctly remember trying to open a door to a room that was flooded on the other side--I could feel the resistance of the water. One night I dreamt that someone brought a possum to work (yes, Susan, I fear it was you) and Melinda picked it up (no sane person picks up a possum except perhaps by the tail) to put it outside and it peed on her. Ever after, when I mention dreams, she says, "I sure did hate being peed on by that possum!" I have the usual dreams, like the exam you haven't prepared for, haven't even gone to class all semester. But I have others, like the one that I'm cleaning up a mess. Sometimes its in a kitchen (not necessarily mine) or a room in a house where the mess grows worse with everything I do; it can even be outside with pieces of paper flying everywhere. I consulted the Google dream dictionary (for what that's worth) and it says you are cleaning out your life in preparation for anothr big step forward. I rather like that interpretation. Surely it means publication, fame and fortune. On the other hand I dreamed the other night that I was newly married to my ex-husband and he moved me to a small town, but he kept disappearing. I met the ladies, who were kind to me, and I can remember working hard to learn their names, the names of their children, and where each one lived. But then I realized that they were congregating in my house every morning, and I couldn't get anything done. I felt stifled. I could probably analyze that one if I tried hard, but last night I dreamt that I was part (a minor part) of a grant-writing team working on grants to perfect space travel. Pretty astounding since grant writing is not a skill I have, and I certainly know zilch about space travel. My dreams are rarely frightening and sometimes pleasant. Sometimes I am able to inject reality into them--like that exam dream. I'll suddenly say, "Judith,  you're through with school. You have your degrees. This is just a dream." Jordan's favorite of my dreams? The time I saw the stuffed, oversized leopard, Clifford, who has a prominent place in the living room, walking around the house. "Mom," she said, "don't tell anyone about this." And then she went and told everyone she knew! Some people never remember their dreams. I'm glad I do. What about you?
Taught my last memoir class until February today. It will be nice to have a break. Otherwise, a busy day but I accomplished much. The Christmas decorations are pretty much roughed in. Fred came by with some helpful comments on my manuscript, and I plan to get back to the other manuscript tonight. So life is rolling along.

A cheer for osteopathic medicine and a wonderful class session

Years and years ago the football team from the Andrew Still Osteopathic Cllege in Kirksville, Missouri, (Now the Kirksville College of Osteopathic Medicine) used to come to Texs to play TCU. The osteopathic team's cheer? "Hippity hoppity, osteopathy!" That's sort of what I feel like shouting tonight. I had a ferocious backache since the middle of the night or early Wed. a.m. Couldn't sleep, hurt worse lying down than being up, but hurt a lot then too. My favorite osteopathic physician, my brother, is 60 or so miles away, and I don't drive on the highway. So I made an appointment with a local doctor who was most courteous, said we'd met but it had been years, and then proceeded, gently, to fix my back. It's not perfet tonight, but I feel so much better. Came home this afternoon and took a long, comfortable nap--what a pleasure. Now I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep, which I've missed for two nights. Note to the Texas legislature: do not pass legislation adding the M.D. degree to the TCOM program. The therapy at the core of that program is way too good to lose!
My memoir class met tonight, and it's amazing to see how much self-discovery has gone on in that group, how much growth, and how much openness they've achieved. Somehow this group can talk about grief and tragedy and come up laughing. We had some unexpted revelations tonight--I think one woman was as surprised at herself as were the rest of us. But there just aren't words to express how happy I am with this group. Most of them signalled they want to continue with a spring session, so we'll do that.  We'll meet one more time before the holidays, not for a class but for a party with former class members and the daytime class members invited. It will be a different atmosphere but still good. At the end when we stood in our circle and said how we felt tonight, I said, "Full of laughter and gratitutde for good friends." It's true.

A bunch of little stuff, mostly good

The really good news, confirmed in the paper this morning, is that our local Barnes & Noble, opened in 1995, is not going to close after all. B&N and the property managers finally reached an agreement on a new lease. I took part in an e-mail campaign to representatives of both sides, and I think it worked--the article in the paper this morning quoted the VP from B&N, David Deason, saying he appreciated hearing from all the customers who suppported the store. When I wrote Mr. Deason, I got a prompt and courteous reply abou t how much they wanted to keep the store open, explaining they were in new negotiations. Today, I thought it a good idea to write and thank him, and I got another nice reply. I'll never meet him, but I like this David Deason.
The people, as it were, have spoken, and it worked. Reminds me of a joke (this is for Democrats only) on Facebook yesterday. Someone wrote (and it's a quote but I don't remember from whom): The people have spoken, the bastards!
My cat and I are at a Mexican standoff, though I think he's winning. He wants to eat constantly since I started putting seafood in with his diet food. He sits, definitely in my face, on my desk and stares at me. Yesterday when I pushed him into a lying position, he bit me--not hard, but he broke the skin in one tiny place. I'm afraid, in quick thoughtless retaliation, I slapped him. We skirted each other the rest of the day. I know he's 18, and if he wants to eat, I should feed him--but he leaves unfinished food and won't eat again until I "freshen" it with new. It's a constant thing, and I do have a life to lead.
Betty and I went for sushi last night, something we haven't had in a long time, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I was determinbed to have something new, tempted by the bacon-wrapped scallops, but finally resorted to Seattle Sunset (California roll topped with cream cheese and salmon) and the house salad. It has a slightly sweet dressing, and if you offered me a salad with a sweet dressing (even honey-mustard) I'd politely decline. But I like this.Of course, we laughed a lot and had a good time.
BSP (Sisters-in-Crime shorthand for blatant self-promotion): check out an interview with me on Kindle publishing at http://kindle-author.blogspot.com/2010/11/kindle-author-interview-judy-alter-html. And watch for an interview on memoir writing tomorrow on Jungle Red Writers at http://www.jungleredwriters.com/. I'm really on a campaign to improve my internet presence. So far sales of Sue Ellen Learns to Dance on Kindle have not shown the amazing results I keep reading about--not sure what I'm going wrong, but I'm working to remedy it. http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=Sue+Ellen+Learns+to+Dance Comments from those who've ordered it have been good--one I treasure was on the Guppies list when Susan Schreyer wrote, "You kick ass, lady." Who could ask for more?
Memoir class tonight. Linda came for dinner, as usual, and I fixed egg salad sandwiches (made with tarragon and capers and smoked salmon)--served  them on onion rolls. Really good if I do say so. She brought pimiento cheese that Rodger had made but he put black olives in it, and I shunned it. Linda Simmons brought guacamole that was delicious. I ate too much, and she left me some. As usual we had a great session--these women are so perceptive about their lives and so willing to share. I think the best part about the whole thing though is the sense of togetherness that's developed. They've really become a group comfortable and familiar with each other. (Notice, I'm avoiding such hackneyed terms as bonding.)
Going to sleep a happy camper tonight.

Mondays

Why are Mondays always full of detail work, catching up, and stuff like that? I spent the morning answering emails, reading the newspaper online, doing not much profitable Taught my memoir class at noon, which went well, though when we ran out of discussion before the end of the period, I read them my piece on panic disorder. They were noticeably quiet, no response. Not sure how to interpret that. I asked how many knew about anxiety disorder and only one or two hands went up, so I hope I enlightened them. They are a good group, faithful attendees,but somehow the bonding of the evening group is missing. I think it's the difference between taking an hour from work and being in a home setting, plus Thursday evenings we loosen everyone's tongue with a bit of wine. I haven't written anything for the evening group in a long time, because they chatter away the whole evening.
I'm still on my writing kick--a thousand words this afternoon and hope to do a thousand this evening. I'm now in that phase of "get through the rough draft." Then I can go back, patch, elaborate, cut, whatever. I bet I add another 10,000 words when I do that. Okay, at least I'm hoping.
Life promises to get hectic toward the end of the week, so I'm doing as much ahead as I can--tonight I did a "kitchen" wash--towels, napkins, etc.
Jordan, Jacob, and Christian came tonight to eat leftover meatballs and mashed potatoes with spinach and gruyere--Jacob flatly refused the potatoes but enthusiastically ate two meatballs with brown gravy while declaring, "I love chicken, Juju." I didn't tell him he was eating beef. His parents, not spinach eaters, ate the potatoes, though Christian said they tasted very "spinachy." Jordan actually ate what Jacob left on his plate. While Jordan and Christian were clearing the table and getting him ice cream, Jacob came over to me and said, "Juju, I like you and I love you." Wonder if he really knows the distinction? Anyway, it was a "Be still my heart" moment.
What this post amounts to is I had nothing significant to say, just wanted everyone to know I am alive and well. Hope all is well in your world.

Writing memoir, the Chilean rescue, and changing weather

My evening memoir writing class met tonight. There are a couple of basic differences between it and the daytime class on campus: in the evening, we're in the casual setting of a home, and we have snacks and wine (the latter making the real difference). The lunchtime group brownbags it but I notice not many eat--I always have a tuna sandwich.
Tonight was a great time of sharing--two people presented stories from their childhood, both with perception and honesty and, afterward, open, honest responses to questions. Some brought laughter, some brought moments of silence. Mostly though we're a laughing, happy group. I shared my story of adoption, and once you get me started on that, I'm hard to shut up, but they were most responsive. My friend Linda is now among the group, and of course she was around when my babies were children, so she knows these stories. "I loved hearing them again, in your voice," she said. Linda came for supper, and I fixed a one-dish meal of chicken, pasta, two cheeses (cheddar and cream) and green peas. It was supposed to have broccoli, but I forgot to go back by the frozen section when I went to the store this morning. Darn! I substituted a small can of green peas.
I am still watching whatever's on TV about the Chilean miners. I hear two books have been proposed in New York, one of them already under contract in the UK.  NYpublishers are hesitant because they fear the heartwarming story has gotten so much instant coverage no one will want a book about it. I think, as a publisher, I'd jump at such a book, but then I was never a big-time publisher dealing with thousand-copy print runs. Jean Walbridge said today that it just shows what people can do when a country pulls together and determines to accomplish something. The Chilean president (who has been a strong and admirable figure throughout this ordeal) said they just decided everything else went on the back burner--they were going to get these miners out. And they did, with help, both technical and emotional support and I suppose financial, from all over the world. A book about that cooperative effort would be excellent, if only to make it required reading for all members of our Federal congress.Apparently a few miners suffer health problems--from pneumonia to skin and dental problems--but most are hale and hearty. It will be interesting to see how they handle the future, though they've been quoted as saying they don't want fame and fortune--they want to go back to their lives. I wonder how many will want to go underground again. A trivial thought that came to me today: they had to fit themselves into a cylinder that was 23 inches--how did they do it? That's a lot less than my waist. I have a vision of people poking and pushing to get my stomach into that tiny cylinder. But, hey, these were mostly pretty big guys.
Chilly morning today--first turtleneck day of the fall season. And gosh it gets dark early. I think my sweet potato plants have had it for the year, and I must soon harvest my basil if I don't want to lose it. I foresee a lot of pesto in the future. Next year I'm going to be more judicious about planting herbs--no dill, because the caterpillars eat it, no summer savory because I didn't use it once and Greg says it's just a tasteless version of oregano. No tansy because it crowds everything else out. Don't have to think about that right now.