Dogs

I've been meaning to write a blog about dogs for some time--how important they are in my life and the lives of many I know, what I think of non-dog people (yeah, there's a bit of judgment), and how grateful I am to have Sophie for company. I'll get around to that eventually, but tonight I had a different kind of dog experience.
My longtime friends, Subie and Phil Green, came for a supper of leftovers--long story, but they were suddenly in town and called. Phil has been visually impaired ever since I've known him, and I think now he's almost completely blind, though he says he can read some on computers under certain circumstances. He brought his assistance dog--the second one he's had. I had to explain that idea to Jacob today because he'd never heard of it. Unfortunately he was gone when Subie, Phil, and Santiago arrived. I was curious about Sophie's reaction, and she was predictable--ran to sniff his privates right away. But she was ecstatic, and Santiago, now eight plus, was patient. Such a well-trained dog.
Sophie of course wanted all the attention and affection. When Santiago came to me to be petted, she was right there, wanting more than her share of the attention. But they really got along well, and Sophie behaved admirably, though she wanted to be in either Subie's or Phil's lap all the time--forbidden behavior in my house.
We caught Santiago eating out of her food (which I store in a small garbage can)--she's not big enough to get into it, but he is. Then Sophie was very quiet in the living room but there was a certain crunching sound. Subie said, "Someone is up to no good," and I said, "Santiago is right at our feet, but I can see Sophie and she's really concentrating." Of course she was--on the small basket of crackers we'd left on the table. She wouldn't come, wouldn't leave those crackers, until I descended on her.
In the backyard together, they were both fine, though the neighbors dogs went nuts.
The evening taught me that Sophie would love a companion--but it would have to be a well-behaved, well-trained dog. And Sophie would always want to be the alpha dog. Dogs with the extensive training Santiago had don't show up in rescue shelters often. But it's amazing to think what they can do for their owners.
Besides, it was a lovely, catch-up on the news visit. I will be glad when they are in town permanently, just a few blocks from me. Subie is already planning to take me on walks and museum visits and she'll probably get me out of the house more. There goes my temptation to be a recluse.
 

Old friends are gold

I can't leave Hawaii behind on the blog without a tip of the hat to the people who lured us to the islands, Martha and Dick Andersen. Fifty years ago last fall Martha and I were English majors together at Truman State University in Kirkville, Missouri, she an undergraduate and me working on a Masters. We had a big something in common--her father was the the president of the osteopathic college in Kirksville; mine was president of the one in Chicago. I don't think it was that that drew us together so much as an affinity for each other. Martha would marry that December, and I married the next year. The four of us did a lot together, creating some fond memories. Over the years and through crises in both families, we've kept in touch. They've come to Texas four times at least, and when my children were young we all went to Omaha to see them. When they lived in Singapore, they urged me to come visit but I wasn't quite brave enough to make the long and complicated trip alone. One year on a visit to Texas, they took me to Santa Fe--wonderful experience. It's truly golden to have friends who remain close and caring after all those years, and I feel blessed by their continuing friendship and support. They are one of the most comfortable couples I know...I don't think I can pay them a greater compliment.
And they've welcomed Jordan heartily. We had great visits on the lanai, fun fixing suppers (and the perfect martini), and sightseeing on Kauai. Because of them, I have an experience I will always treasure.

Sunset above the clouds as we headed home

As wonderful as our trip had been, we were ready to come home, and it's good to be back. Now I'm trying to get in the groove of work. I have books to write, lunches to share with friends, books to read, a lot to do. And it's all good.

Death of a distant old friend

I received a card in the mail today that was both joyful and sad. It let me know that an old friend of many years died in December. And I do mean old. I have no idea of her age but I would guess she was at least in her late eighties and maybe early nineties. I have not seen her in fifty years, and I didn't know her that well then.
My husband-to-be, my brother, and I were all in school in a small town in Missouri, they studying osteopathic medicine and me working on a graduate degree in English. My brother in particular became good friends with a faculty member who also owned a working farm. The man used to treat me, and I remember how calloused and tough his hands were from farm work. One day he abruptly said he could no longer treat me but gave no explanation. I felt I had somehow displeased him. I also remember he predicted whatever I would die from would be ennervated from a specific area in my upper back which was weak--a thought I still remember and try to put out of my mind.
I saw less of his wife. Indeed, I clearly remember only one occasion. We all went to the farm for breakfast, and she served fried cheese, among other things. I loved it, though my brother tonight said he didn't particularly like it but it was the first thing he remembered about her too. I have since tried it but haven't been able to duplicate it.
We moved on from that town, John to Colorado, and Joel and I to Texas. A few years later we heard that this woman had left town and her husband suddenly in mysterioius and what turned out to be tragic circumstances. She moved to Massachusetts, built a new life for herself, and never looked back.
But every year I got a Christmas card from her. In tiny handwriting she detailed world travels and adventures and asked about my writing. I would reply at some length--something I don't always do with Christmas cards. I enjoyed hearing from her and was always amazed--and flattered--that she kept up the correspondence and felt a connection to me. This was the first year I didn't get a card, andd the one I received today, from a friend of hers, confirmed my suspicion. She died in mid-December. I suspect I was on a mailing list or in a card file someplace and the friend knew to send the card.
Today's card consisted only of a lovely poem that spoke of her enjoyment of people and life, her travels, her motorcycle, and the many people who shared her life. A picture on the front shows a happy, smiling woman (I wouldn't have recognized her, and I doubt she'd have recognized me) against a montage of photos of her life, including a clear one of her late husband in his army uniform. Between the poem and the pictures, I know she had a happy life after she left Missouri, and I am glad for her. I told John I hated to throw it out because it seemed like throwing away her life. I'm saving it for him.

One of those good days

To me, today, everything is coming up roses. Started the morning early to get a new black ink cartridge for my new printer--gosh, the one that came with it went fast! But I successfully installed it and am back in business. A minor triumph. Then to the Container Store for Christmas wrapping supplies--just a few things that cost a whopping $60. It's that thick yarn I love to use instead of ribbon--because I like the way it looks and because I never can make a pretty bow.
Then met two friends who date back to the '60s for lunch at Z's Cafe--terrific sandwiches as always (I love their ham and cheese). Georgia is gluten free, so she brought her flourless chocolate b'day cake, which is like eating fudge. I ate a modest amount and somehow ended up with the rest to bring home. Jacob had some after school and loved it, but tonight he chose some gingersnaps I'd found cleaning the freezer. Said, "I love those cookies."
This afternoon plans suddenly came together, and it looks like Jordan and I will have a week in Hawaii this winter. Excited. I never thought I'd go there. I think the trip to Scotland has given me more impetus for travel--I'm getting it a little late in life, but what fun. We'll go to Kauai and Maui.
And then Jacob was running all over the house, taking photos with his phone (an old one with no service) because, he said, my house is so interesting. He wrote "I love you, Juju" on a post-it, posted it on the edge of my desk, and took a picture. What  more could I ask for?
A minor tragedy: when he wasn't looking Sophie sneaked a piece of his favorite large-piece puzzle off the table and mangled it. He as so clearly mad at her (and threw a kick her way before I caught him) that now she's scared of him. I've told him he'll have to make amends. Hard to make a six-year-old understand that two minutes after she chewed it she didn't understand why he was mad.
And a peanut butter story: I've finally wised up that hydrogenated peanut butter is not good for him (he eats tons of it) so now I buy the kind with oil on top. You have to stir the oil in and then refrigerate it. Yesterday when I made him the requested sandwich, he shoved it away and said, "I'm not eating this healthy peanut butter any more." I mildly answered that yes he was because that was all I had...and he ate it. Want to buy it? Try Smuckers or Central Market Organics. I'm sure there are other brands.

Mishaps and a good time

Dear friends are visitng me. They're from Omaha--a long way from Fort Worth and I'm flattered they would drive this distance to sit on my porch and visit, reminisce and sip a bit of wine. We figured out the other night that we have known each other fifty years--a scary thought in some ways but wonderfully comforting in others. I'm grateful beyond measure for friendships that endure.
We've had a series of mishaps. It began innocently enough Thursday night when Martha and I misjudged each other in passing salad--the result was water all over the table, salad in Martha's soup, and a lot of laughter. Then as we cleaned the kitchen, I took a pratfull--into the dishwasher. Even Jacob came running to see what happened. I was okay, although the next day bruises developed and my knee really hurt.
Friday was a bad day in several ways--I could not, absolutely could not, find my prescription sunglasses. I know they were on the kitchen counter but they had vanished. Dick, in trying to fix one TV, effectively killed another. There were spots on the tunic I wanted to wear that night.
Fortunately all things work out--the TV is replaced, plus a new one for the apartment. My sunglasses suddenly appeared sitting on top of the food processor--go figure! My knee is much better. The spots came out with water, and I wore the tunic.
And we have had wonderful moments--a trip to my brother's ranch, where we had a long, leisurely lunch and visit, a good lobster dinner tonight, lunch at the deli, Plus we've had all those long, lovely visits. It's absolutely the best front-porch weather, and we have rehashed our lives, our children's lives, in-laws, life experiences, causes, beliefs. We haven't touched much on politics not so much because we disasgree but because they are not as fervent as I am.
Best of all, they think Jacob is marvelous, and they love Sophie. I think she adores having a man around, for she will go to Dick in a flash and behave for him in ways that she never would for me. Hmmm--do you suppose they'd like to stay?
Old friends are indeed gold, to be treasured. I am so blessed.
 

A day at the lake

Today, with my manuscript crying out to be revised, I went off to spend several hours with friends Pat and Hal Normand at their Lake Worth house. I'm ashamed to say it's been over three  years since they tore down the cabin they'd had there and built a new house. Pat tells me it's built on a plan from Coastal Magazine, and though she described it as modified Craftsman, I'd describe it as modified Cape Cod, maybe because of the partial shingles of the outside and the narrow, tall construction.. Either way, it's lovely but unpretentious. Inside the main living area is all one open space--kitchen, living room, dining to the side, screened-in-porch off the living room, all with a direct and uncluttered view of the lake. To the side, out the dining room windows is a view of a small cove, and behind the house is undeveloped wild land. They have deer and other wild animals--in fact a deer jumped the fence and landed in their yard recently.
Hal tells me he loves to sit and watch the lake because something is always happening. I couldn't see that, but I have always loved a view of water since my childhood days spent at the Indiana Dunes, and I confess to a bit of jealousy. There is one room downstairs, just off the front door, that is used for an office but could be a third bedroom; upstairs there's a spacious landing that Pat has filled with her mom's Victorian furniture and two bedrooms. The master has that magnificent view of the lake again with a small porch which they never use because they love the screened-in-porch (especially important in these summer of West Nile virius). The guest room upstairs looks out on the woods, which once again reminds me of the Dunes where we had water in front and woods in back. A special place: what they call the atrium, a courtyard between the house and the garage that has a table and chairs and is absolutely overflowing with plants. Hal paved it with flagstones himself, one by one. It's spectacular. I want to transport this house--and the lake--to my beloved inner city neighborhood. I guess you can't have everything, but in a big way I envy them. On the other hand, I'm glad they're so happy there. I wish of course that I'd taken pictures, but I didn't--kept thinking about it.
After a big brunch of flat enchiladas and a good catch-up visit, I came home to work on my manuscript and made good progress. Then I had a long, great nap, and got up and cooked vegetables--a cauliflower salad (actually it was broccoflower but I couldn't taste broccoli), beets and greens, and an ear of corn that needed to be used. Elizabeth and I feasted on that and the roast chicken she had brought, though she won't eat my beets! Drat!
 

Sometimes life gets ahead of you

By 11:30 this morning, I had tired myself out. Been to the office to wrap a package for mailing, to the grocery, the post office, and the printing store to pick up a manuscript, to the audiologist to get new ear molds (honest, when they called I thought they said ear mites and I wanted to say, "No, thanks!"), and to Old Home Supply to drop off five more copie sof Skeleton in a Dead Space. I think that marvelous hardware store, which specializes in fixtures for old houses, is my best retail outlet! They keep sending me messages: "We need more books!" It is of course in the heart of the Fairmount neighborhood, setting of my novels. By 11:30, I was at the Old Neighborhood Grill (frequently mentioned in the book) for lunch with an old friend and her daughter. It's still a bit of a shock to realize that this child is forty-five-I knew her parents before she was born, for Pete's sake. Georgia, the one I've know almost fifty years, bought two more books--so of the ten I received yesterday, only three are left on my bookshelf. Woohoo!
I snuck a nap between lunch and picking up Jacob and slept so soundly that I haven't been much good the rest of the day. I woke suddenly, misread the clock and thought I was late to pick up Jacob--turns out I was early. But I spent much of the rest of the day feeling sleepy and ready to go back to bed. Jacob went to the neighbor's to play and then went out back to play with the dogs--only came in when it dawned on him it was darn cold (he's slow to realize such things). We had supper and Sue, my former neighbor who calls me her Fort Worth mom, came for a drink and catch-up session. We both have a lot going on in our lives, and I was super glad for the exchange--plus we agree about politics and social issues. Good discussion.
Made real headway on tax stuff tonight but am far from done. How I hate doing that!
Cold tonight--in the twenties. No wonder I feel like hibernating.

Old friends

Make new friends, but keep the old;
Those are silver, these are gold.
I know, I've recently done a post using that quote but a call from Santa Fe today made my day and emphasized again the value of old friends. My longtime friend (I started to say old, but she might take that personally) Nancy Olson called to say she was loving Skeleton in a Dead Space. Of course she would--she recognizes many of the players. In fact, she says it's like I was personally taking her by the hand and leading her along. Nancy and I have been friends for forty-six years, a long time in anyone's book. We don't talk often these days and she's not real good about emailing, but I discovered today she's on Facebook, so maybe we'll be in touch more. But today, we laughed about old and good times, talked about cooking and books. For me, it was great to hear her voice and her distinctive, happy laugh. It really did give me a happy glow the rest of the day.
Facebook has already connected me to another old friend--Sally Jackson, who was my neighbor in Park Hill, took her life in a new direction about the same time I did, and moved away from the neighborhood. Now on Facebook we trade recipes, news of our kids, and bits of political wisdom. I'm so enjoying having her back in my life.
So make new friends but keep the old--they are, indeed, gold.

OLd friends are gold

Make new friends, but keep the old

These are silver, but those are gold.

An old friend, Jim Lee (sometimes known as James Ward Lee) took me and Melinda to lunch today for my birthday--a delightful occasion with talk of politics, publishing, and trivia. I've known Jim at least since the early 1980s and maybe before. I remember going to a conference on Texas Literature--he, Tom Pilkingotn, and Don Graham co-edited a collection of essays on Texas literature which was the basis of the conference. I knew Jim Lee by reputation and perhaps by then I had already contributed to his biblioigraphy of Southwestern Literature.

But over the years our professional relationship grew. He was chair of the English department at the University of North Texas, and he used to call me periodically to announce that he'd had a "million-dollar idea"--that usually meant work for me. Some turned out to be two-cent ideas but a few were really good. When he came to Fort Worth, we occasionally had lunch and slowly our professional relaitonship became a personal friendship.

About 12-15 years ago (he'll correct me on this) he moved to Fort Worth. One day he was in my office and eyed the stack of manuscript submissions. "I could help you with that," he said. So he became the acquisitions editor for TCU Press, with a letter of appointment from the provost that clearly stated "with no compensation." We loved having Jim in the office--he was funny, witty, always up. But he drove us wild with his haphazard notebook in which he kept a record of submissions and what he'd done about them. There finally came the day that he announced that it was no longer fun, and he  quit, leaving the acquisitions--and that notebook--to me.

By the time he moved to Fort Worth, Jim was a single man, but he had a harem of women trailing after him. Once the man who was then editor of the press asked, "What is this? The Jim Lee harem?" I told him  yes, and I was proud to be part of it. But Jim soon began to keep company with a woman he met at a party at my house. Several people who knew us both thought we should have paired up, so once at lunch--we went to lunch often in those days--I asked him when he was casting his eye about he didn't look at me. He was purely astonished. "I like you better than most people I know. Why would I want to ruin that?" It was probably one of the nicest compliments I ever got.

Jim and I have collaborated on books--Literary Fort Worth and Elmer Kelton: Memories and Essays most recently--and TCU Press published his collection of essays, Adventures with a Texas Humanist (with a clear nod to Walter Prescott Webb's classic Adventures of a Texas Naturalist). We work well together, though we have also been known to quarrel to the point that one colleague once said, "For God's sake, it's like a bad marriage." I guess that's why Jim and I are good friends.
TCU Press will publish a collection of his short stories in 2013, but he warns that he could be dead by then. Melinda and I told him he couldn't die because he'd have to promote the book. When I said he needed to go on Facebook to promote, he said, "I'd have to commit suicide if I did that." Jim is nothing if not cantakerous--but loveably so.

I don't see much of Jim these days, and I miss him. So lunch today was a fine treat and a fine birthday present. Yep, old friends are gold, and we must keep them.

24-hour getaway

I'm just home from 24 hours in Granbury (TX, of course) with my good friends Rodger and Linda Preston. Linda and I go back years and years, and she's been married to Rodger about 11 years. I love him too because he's a great cook, a steadfast liberal, and an all-around good guy. Linda came to get me Friday about 3 p.m. and we chattered all the way to Granbury. They gave a dinner party that night--a former bookseller of whom I'm particulary fond, one of our TCU Press authors and his wife, and the mayor and his wife. Turns out the mayor's wife went to high school in Scotland, so we had lots of fun talking about all things Scottish. Rodger fixed bouef bourguignion according to Julia's Child's recipe--Linda kept saying it was too complicated and she liked recipes with four ingredients, but today she and my brother agreed I would have done the same thing. I like those challenges. It was delicious, meat marinated for two or three days, lots of mushrooms. I avoided the noodles and the dessert and came in under points for the day.
Rodger and Linda own a gift store, Almost Heaven, on the square in Granbury (watch for their blog soon), and this was Harvest Moon Festival, which attracts a lot of vendors and a lot of people. Linda and I walked to the store about ten, and I holed up in the office, checking emails, working on a column, doing my free writing. We went to The Merry Heart, a lunch place two doors down, for chicken salad, another good visit, and then back to the store, where I signed books from 1-3. Well, I would have signed books but people weren't buying. I sold three, and two of those were to a woman I knew and her daughter, good friends of Linda's. Still, I talked to a lot of people, and maybe they'll remember my books. I have developed my "draw them in line" for Cooking My Way Through Life with Kids and Books--I point to the picture of Jacob and say, "That's my grandson. Isn't he adorable?" When they say yes, I launch into the story of what the parents of my other grandchildren thought. It worked well as a conversation starter, but not so well as a sales pitch. The people who come into Linda's store are looking for scented candles, odd gifts, etc. The lady who was demonstrating a salt scrub did a lot better than I did.
Highlight: My brother and his wife, John and Cindy, came by to visit, with Cindy holding their two-year-old granddaughter, Emery, who would not be detached from her grandmother. She clung and looked long at all of us. When they got ready to leave, she began to wave bye-bye--I think it was out of relief that they were leaving, for she'd been saying, "Go, Go." John said the crowd scared her. After they left, Linda brought me back to Fort Worth and we shared a glass of wine and a bit of cheese and stale crackers (I threw them in the trash after she politely said they were a bit stale but not too bad!). We had yet another good visit. She makes me think of that old saying, which I'll surely get wrong, but "New friends are silver, but old friends are gold." When Jamie married, he ordered silver steins with that on it for his groomsmen.
I'm nursing a cold that has been lingering on my horizons all week. Tonight it has turned into frequent sneezes and a constant need to blow my nose so that I look like Rudolph the Reindeer. Although I didn't feel on top of my game last night, I felt good all day and am fine now home and settled at my desk. It's taken me so long to catch up, I hope to have time for reading tonight.
After I unpacked, fed the animals, and got everything back to normal, I had a big debate with myself: did I want to saute that ground sirloin patty in the fridge or fix an anchovy pasta. The pasta won, and I cooked a handful of ditali (small short tubes of macaroni). While it was cooking, I heated olive oil and dumped in three chopped anchovy fillets, a generous helping of capers, and a small (single serving) can of tuna. When it was done I put some fresh grated parmesan over it. No salad, nothing else, though I felt a bit guilty about not having greens. But it was a delicious supper with a glass of wine.
Moral for the day: writing leads you into all kinds of fun situations. When Rodger asked why they were doing something--maybe having fresh raspberries for breakfast?--Linda said, "Because we have an artist in our midst." Who, me?

If retirement is like this past weekend . . .

If retirement is like this past weekend, I'm in for a lot of fun and hectic times. Forgive me if this is one of those "And then I did this" blogs, but it was too good not to relive. Saturday morning Jeannie and I left for Albany (Texas, of course--someone asked me Saturday night if I'd been to NY for the day. Wrong). We sort of left at 8:15 but by the time we picked up the cell phone I'd left at the office and dropped her son's dog off at his house, it was 8:45 before we got on the road. Albany is about a 2-1/2 hour drive from Fort Worth, and it's a lovely drive. A few miles west of Fort Worth you leave the trees and hills behind and are suddenly in the edges of West Texas--great rolling plains and expanses of land, places where you can look for miles across the empty land, other places where you pass fields of mesquite and then fields of young mesquite where you know someone has plowed and the new pests (as ranchers think of them) have started up. It always makes me realize how much empty land there is in Texas, even though cities seem to reach out their tentacles all the time. We left the interstate at Cisco, home of the first Hilton Hotel--and this time, on the way back, we were able to identify it. Before we'd been looking at the tallest buildings and wondering which one it was but the bookstore owner in Albany described it, two stories, built right on the railway tracks which makes sense. It was not a hotel where one went for days but only for perhaps a few hours on a layover between trains or negotiating oil deals. It's now the Hilton Historical Center.

In Albany we had lunch at a place witha limited menu--either turkey legs or hamburgers. We had the latter, though it's not on my diet, but it was grilled outdoors and was absolutely wonderful. Then we shopped, something Jeannie is better at than I am, and from 1-3 I signed books at the Lynch Line Bookstore. They had a variety of my books, and I sold some of all--19 in total. Surprise: this man walked in who looked really familiar but he was wearing a gimme cap and was certainly out of context. I stared at him and he said, "You don't know who I am, do you?" Just then it dawned on me, and I said, "Yeah, I do, but why are you here?" It was my longtime bank advisor and turns out he grew up in Albany and had brought his grandkids for the annual outdoor pageant called Fandangle. The town was full of tourists there for Fandangle, which is why it was a good time to sign. all in all I sold 19 books, which I consider a good days work. Jeannie and I had been there for a signing and gone to Fandangle and eaten BBQ on the grounds of the courthouse two years ago and still remember it all fondly.

Then whoosh back to Fort Worth for Jacob's third b'day party--about 30 adults and who knows how many kids of all ages. Jord has cheese, crackers, dips, etc. and someone brought taquitos (I later figured out that meal cost me as many Weight Watchers points as the elegant dinner I'd had at Central Market a couple of weeks ago!). About 8:30 Jamie was ready to go, and we went by my house to feed animals and pick up my suitcase. Then off to Frisco, five exhuasted people by the time we got there.

Sunday was Father's Day, and the girls had planned their dad's day--lunch wherever he wanted it, then a movie he wanted to see (Eddie Murphy in Imagine That). They had also made him, on the computer, a booklet of poems and letters about why they loved him. Here he is reading it, if I can get the picture positioned in the right place. His choice of restaurants was the India Palace--now I would tell you I don't eat Indian food. Way too spicy, but Jamie was there to tell me which things were mild, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. And I loved the movie, though the only time I go to a movie is with them, and they choose movies with a six- and ten-year-old in mind, so they're right up my alley. It was funny and touching, and I enjoyed it. Then to Barnes & Noble to browse--six-year-old Edie got her first chapter books and spent dinner reading one, carefully saying the words out loud to herself as she read and often spelling a word to ask what it meant. Maddie got the first in a series I've heard good things about, The MagicKeepers. She likes the fantasy and semi-fantasy and is an avid read.
Then off to an Irish pub for dinner--I felt like I was having a gastronomic tour. Jame talked me into corned beef, mashed potatoes, and boiled cabbage--then sent his half of the corned beef back because it was dry. I ate mine with horseradish sauce and enjoyed it. Not sure I liked boiled cabbage that much.
We finally met Jordan and Christian at a point between Coppell where they'd been and Frisco, and we all headed home about 8:45. I was exhausted, and so were the Burton crew except Jacob who crowed and screamed until his mother did the ultimate bad--stuck a pacifier in his mouth! Still I got sweet kisses and hugs when I got out of the car abut 9:30. And it took me two hours to settled in and go to bed. No wonder I slept in a bit this morning.
My really good news. I lost another pound plus last week, so now I've lost 7.9 lbs. Do you think I could call it an even 8 lbs?
I'm still tired but still relishing what a wonderful weekend it was.
And today I had lunch with a friend who was once my physician and is now a friend. We hadn't seen each other in a long time but had been emailing, and today we had a lively conversation--about families, medicine, medical economics, the government health plan, etc. Lots of fun, and I'm grateful for a new friend.

Life Goes on

When you're really feeling bad, so bad you don't have the energy to think about food or brush your teeth, it's hard to imagine you'll ever feel better. But I really do. I'm back at work, going full steam, trying to make up for time lost. I started today with a doctor's appt.--I'm better but not 100% over it; not contagious however so I can go to Houston this weekend. Went to the office and then to meet old and dear friends for lunch--he was my ex-husband's trainer when Joel was a resident and then his senior partner. Years ago I told Connie that when I was a single parent I always had the feeling Russ was looking over my shoulder and would take care of me, and she said he would have. I remember as a resident's wife I was sort of scared of him or intimidated or something, but now we're old friends. We laughed a lot--and were quite honest about some people we've known--and when I ordered the twice-baked potato, Russ changed his order and said he'd have that too, and that's what we all three ended up with. Halfway through the meal, Russ looked at Connie and said "What am I eating?" Connie is a wonderful caretaker but quite forthright with him, as when she said, "Neither one of us know what you're talking about." They're moving to a northern suburb to be near their son next week, so I was particularly glad for today's luncheon--I'll see them again but not as often as I have. It's funny to think how relationships grow and change over the years--maybe as I've grown and changed and become my own person.
After lunch though, boy, was I ready for my nap. John said to me tonight that pneumonia will do that to you, so I immediately began to worry about getting worn out at our family get-together in Houston for Easter. But I think I'll just beg off whenever I need to.
Tonight I cooked for myself for the first time in two weeks or longer--stuffed a zucchini with the core of the zucchini, bread crumbs, sauteed onion and celery, and then put cheese on it to bake. Pretty good, and for once I didn't overcook the zucchini until it was mushy--this was almost crisp enough to need a knife.
Two days ago I wrote in a frenzy on my novel--ideas kept tumbling out of my fingers. But last night I only wrote a dull little piece that covered some necessary business--a funeral. But I have ideas percolating in my mind, and I guess I'll just have to let them percolate. In a way, nearing the end of the novel, I'm afraid--afraid of how to work it all out, afraid of the word count, just downright intimidated. But I am distracting myself with a J.A.Jance novel I hadn't read before.
I'm so glad I live in the technological age--my oldest granddaughter sent me a text message today about whether or not I as getting rid of my convertible. I guess her dad told her I thought, maybe for a day, that I'd get a Smart Car. But I loved writing back and forth with her. Have a few texting questions to ask the cyber folks this weekend--like is message length limited?
Oh, it may be time for another nap!

Hello, nothing!

This is one of those nights when I feel I should blog but don't have much significant to say except I did this, and then I did that--and who really cares but me? Except that I did have lunch Friday with an old and dear friend I only see ever two or three years since she's moved to Atlanta. Her husband was supposed to come too, but he had a bad case of stomach something, so Subie and I had a girls lunch--and chatted about kids, grandkids, jobs, politics, the whole gamut. Really fun--a two-hour lunch!
Last night Master Jacob spent the night, but he was quite solemn all evening, mostly watched a DVD called "Happy Feet," so I sat at the table and read. His favorite things now are three tiny cars he carries everywhere with him. He went to bed happily enough, but for almost an hour I could hear the clank of those cars on the monitor. He woke about 5:30 this morning, and I could tell the sounds were fussing, not happy. After ten minutes or so, I went in, told him he was all right, I loved him, and gave him his cars--he slept until 7:45, thank goodness, and this morning he was his usual happy self. We had a giggling battle trying to get his clothes on--he would not stay still and kept kicking out of his pants. By the time he was finally dressed, it looked like a blind woman had done it--or he had dressed himself. By the time I got him fed and dressed, cleaned up his toys, went to the grocery, did the laundry and emptied the garbarge, I surely needed my nap.
I read a so-so mystery most of the evening, but late last evening I started the newest Julia Spencer-Fleming novel, I Shall Not Care. I probably won't do much else all weekend. She has created two believable, intriguing characters--with plenty of flaws but a lot to like about them. And the thing that draws you in is she keeps the romantic tension between them going--they just don't walk off into the sunset together. She's an Episcopalian priest, and in the early books he's the married (unhappily) chief of police. The attraction is mutual and strong but neither one acts on it because of a sense of honor--and then his wife is killed, while he's in a standoff with a criminal that the priest, Claire, kills to save his life. As this book opens, he refuses to see Claire or think about her, feeling guilty that if he hadn't been with her he could have saved his wife--but hey, if he hadn't been with her, he would have died. The human emotions are real, and I'm rethinking (for the 40th time!) my second mystery.
My neighbors' parents were supposed to come for wine tonight--they're babysitting while she's away on business, and I had bought some small smoked salmon spirals--those things I looked at in the store and wondered who would every be so silly to buy them. They got home too late from one of the children's soccer games, so I ate the salmon spirals myself for supper--so good, but so rich. I didn't eat them all.

Not a Lot . . .

or, as my brother says when he asks what's new, "I don't know it." I think I've spent the last couple of days having a pity party because of my foot/ankle/whatever it is, though it's much better tonight. It twinges, but I am mostly walking without a limp. I also spent the last two intensive mornings trying to reconcile accounting for each book published during our last fiscal year. I hate it, though I did find today when I went back, the work I had done yesterday put me solidly on the way to making most accounts work out perfectly. This was a year of transition--from my hand-written list of expenses for each book to a database, but I hadn't made clear to either Melinda or Susan what information I needed. To my great frustration today, they handed me lists and printed out databases, and I tried to explain the need for a paper trail that indicated what had been submitted for payment. I'm afraid I lost patience and so did they, but I think we're all on the same page now. I once told a former boss that God did not mean me to read greenbar sheets, and he said, "Oh, yes, she did." I don't believe it. Susan watched me yesterday and said, "You're creative. You shouldn't be doing that kind of stuff." Amen!
Nice visit last night with Dana, Colin's high-school girlfriend. When she walked in and we got past, "You look just the same," and "you look better," I confessed that I had ruined the asparagus--put it on to steam and forgot it. She looked at the sodden mess on the cutting board and said, "You sure did, girl!" And we were off to an evening of exploring where each of us is now while reminiscing about the past--some 20+ years ago. It was fun to hear her take on the family back then. She said when I finished dinner dishes and walked down the long hall to my bedroom, everyone knew that I was done, checking out, kitchen was closed. But she talked about the conversations at my dinner table--I guess I didn't realize they had some depth and complexity to them. We talked about ideas back then--and Lord, did all of us talk!
I'm still deep in Sara Paretky's Bleeding Kansas, and I may take back what I said about stereotypes--as I've read on, I've realized that she uses them deliberately, ironically, to make a point--yes, she exaggerates and hits us over the head but it's because she's writing about topics she cares deeply about: the folly of the war in Iraq and its consequences to American families, the dangers of extreme right-wing Christianity and its righteousness. Her work in this novel reminds me of Robert Flynn's work--he's a TCU Press author and one of my favorites. My hat's off to her, but I wish I could finish the book so I'd quit sneaking to read it and get back to my own novel. Tonight I plan to work on both. I'm close to finishing the Paretsky novel, and I have a lot of ideas bouncing in my head about my novel--and fortunately also captured on paper.