Front Porch Reflections

We've had blessed rain--the slow, steady kind which does our gardens so much good. And instead of temperatures hovering near 100, we've had low nineties, in fact just 90 today. But at mid-day it was steamy, muggy and felt very tropical--awful. And then when  you came inisde the a/c struck like an Arctic blast--I considered sweats for a brief moment. But tonight it's cool, drier, and there's a wonderful breeze. I took a book out to the porch, even though I have tons of work on my computer to get done. I'm trying so hard to learn that lesson that I'm retired, it doesn't matter what gets done today and what doesn't--but  it's hard. I enjoyed sitting out there, reading, sipping wine, but I kept thinking that I'd get up and come inside to work. Hard to do because the evening light lasts so long these days. And every time I'd think "Okay, now," a breeze would blow through and ruffle the plants. So I stayed until almost dark--oh well, I can proofread tomorrow.

My stemware holder is up over the wine rack. It holds 12 glasses, but you have no idea what a difference that makes in my glassware cupboard. Before, you opened it at your own risk--glasses were liable to jump out at you. And every time someone used a water glass, I groaned silently because I knew it would go in the dishwasher and then I'd have to juggle around and find room in the cabinet. The problem has gotten worse since grandchildren came along, because we've added all those kid-proof glasses. Now there's plenty of space in the cupboard. Such a small thing is a BIG deal for me.

I rushed around this morning doing errands, particularly buying ground chicken so I could make those good Japanese burgers for Jordan, Christian and Jacob (not sure how Jacob would like them--probably without wasabi mayo). After a pleasant lunch with Jean, I came home and made the burgers, which involve a lot of tiresome grating of fresh ginger. Then Jordan emailed to say she was sick and going home--so all my work was for naught. I cooked the burgers, froze them, and ate corn, spinach, and squash for dinner.

Now, back to all that proofreading.

Routine sets in

I've been a drudge this weekend. Spent all of yesterday home alone, working, and much of today. I've read over 200 pages of the manuscript I'm proofing--still have to do several separate indices. It's going to be a pain and an ongoing project. Sometimes I enjoy the work, and sometimes I sneak off to read my latest mystery on the Kindle.
I've also been eating too much, but, gosh, I have all this good stuff in the fridge. Ham salad, which makes a great sandwich; tuna cakes I made last night and served myself with stir-fried asparagus, mushrooms and scallion; hoppin' john on grits. It all tastes so good--my trouble is I like my own cooking.
Today I realized how much time it takes me to get routine things done if I don't have to go anywhere--I got up at 7:30, read the paper, rode my bicycle, picked up a few things around thehouse, showered, shampooed, put on make-up, made the bed and chose clothes for the afternoon--and it was 11:00 o'clock. That's surely no way to set the world on fire. I had an early lunch, early nap, and was dressed and ready at 3:30 when my boss came by. We went to the memorial service for a friend who collapsed and died suddenly Dec. 23 in the Madrid airport--on the way to Venice with his wife for Christmas. I knew Harry Antrim and liked him a lot--the phrase that comes to my mind now when I think of him is "A life well lived." He was passionate about literature and books, cooking, and probably Mary, his wife. I used to meet him on Saturday mornings in Central Market and jokingly ask him what was for dinner--he always had some grand plan. When they were here for tree trimming, he was anxious to get Mary home to the quail he'd coooked. I know Mary much  better and ache for her, but I also trust her to tell me when she needs me--until then I'll leave her alone to deal with what she must face.
I have many good friends who are Episcopalians, but I must confess the service was hard for me to follow. I was constantly going from prayer book to hymnal and lost half the time. I got to thinking every church has its rituals, and I know and love those of my church. But this was too high church, too many prayers by rote. I didn't take communion, because I was cautious about going to the altar, kneeling, etc. Just not the way I'm used to doing things. I sat with friends who were raised in the Catholic Church, and they were able to followo the service much more easily than I was.
Came home to have wine with Sue, my neighbor, who is probably going to move. Her landlady is selling the house, and Sue has found a larger, better house that she can afford. I thinkshe should move, but I will sorely miss her as a neighbor.
So it's been a mixed day--not one of great joy but one with a sense of dealing with what life brings you--and getting a little work done besides. Tomorrow I go to the office and dig into work for sure.

Another good day

North Texas was like early fall today--up into the upper 70s, sunny and gorgeous. Tonight the temperature is to drop and tomorrow the forecast high is 39 with rain. If you don't like the weather, wait a minute and it will change. Mid-60s by Wednesday. Meantime I have gotten out warm fuzzies for tomorrow.
This morning I went to early church--8:45--something I maybe have done once or twice before. But today, my good friends Jean Walbridge and Jim Clark joined the church, and Jeannie and I were there as their cheering team. I haven't, as I've mentioned, been going to church, and it was good to be there--I always enjoy the ritual, the music, and today I enjoyed the sermon. The church at 8:30 is a far different place than it is at 10:45, and I was astounded--no traffic on the streets, empty places close up in the parking lot but no valet, no people in the halls on the way to the sanctuary--or at least very few. Still there was a fairly big crowd at the service. I didn't find it so hard to get up at 7 and be ready to leave at 8:30--still read the paper and had my breakfast. What I did find funny was that at 10 when I got home, I was hungry. Usually when I get home from church it's lunch time. So I said what the heck and ate the half leftover gorgonzola burger I had in the fridge while finishing the newspaper. Jean and Jim were warmly welcomed into the church, and I was really glad I had gone.
The sermon took its theme from "Jubilee," the Hebrew celebration every 50 years where fields lie fallow, land is returned to the original owners, and the enslaved are freed. Congregation Beth El, the local reformed Jewish temple, sent a representative with a shofar, the ram's horn symbolic of the ram that was sacrificed in place of Abraham's son. I thought it interesting that they sent a woman, for I think of Judaism still as a religion where men predominate. But this was a lovely attractive woman who wore a shawl I wanted to rip right off her and steal. She blew the shofar and reminded me I'd forgotten how shrill the sound is. When I was young my parents went to a church in a "changing" neighborhood, far from where my friends attended. But Dad had attended St. James since the 1920s, and he wasn't about to change. I went to the United Church of Hyde Park (Congregational and Presbyterian) and next door was a small orthodox Jewish temple. The grandmother of my good friend Eleanor Lee lived on the other side of the temple, so one way or another, I heard the shofar quite a bit. So hearing it this morning was a bit of nostalgia for me.
The rest of the day was spent mostly proofreading--and I finished the project this evening, though there are problems I have to work out tomorrow. I put a pot roast on about noon and added potatoes just before I napped about two; when I went to add carrots in the late afternoon, I feared I had let it cook too long. But Jordan, Christian, and I agreed it was delicious--I really would prefer just to do the potatoes and carrots and forget the meat. The cooking liquid is a can of mushroom soup, a pkg. of Lipton's beefy onion soup, and a half cup of red wine--makes delicious gravy.
Jacob had been sick last night, slept way too late and long this afternoon, and couldn't decide if he was happy (sometimes) or whiney (sometimes). I commented that the whiney doesn't happen much if at all when he's here with me alone. But we gave him his Christmas present from me--an Elmo sleeping bag. He was much excited by Elmo but didn't get the sleeping bag idea at all. Jordan says we'll take it to Houston and maybe Morgan will show him. Nonetheless he gave me a sweet kiss and hug and left with, "Thank you, Juju." He talks about "Do Claus" and cannot be persuaded to say Santa Claus.

A pleasant day

What I thought would be a long empty day--because of my cancelled trip--turned out to be very pleasant. I slept late--8:30!--and was just settling down with the paper when Carol Roark called. She had voluntarily run a signing party at the Dallas Public Library (she is curator of the Texas Collection) for Fran Vick's Literary Dallas. Carol rounded up contributors and cajoled someone at the library into contributing sandwiches (it was lunchtime)--Buy a book, get a sandwich. They sold 35 books, which is really good. Now Carol wanted to bring back leftover books and settle up checks, charge slips, and money. And did I want to go to lunch? So I went to the grocery, came home and did some chores, and Carol picked me up. We got several other small pieces of business accomplished at my office and had a cheering lunch at Carshon's Deli (I have got to stop eating chopped liver--so good and so bad for you!). I've spent most of the rest of the day proofreading and making good progress. Of course, there was a long nap and leftover spaghetti from the place down the street for dinner. Chadra is a Lebanese/Italian restaurant (odd combination to me) but I love their meat sauce--good, old-fashioned, full of tomatoes, and not too spicy.
Proofreading is hard for me. Melinda says it's because I'm creative and not mechanical (right brain or left? I never can remember), but I'm trying hard. These proofs are of a novel by a good friend, and he was not happy with some of the edits, so I'm trying to get it just right for him. He's a seasoned writer with his own very deliberate style and having worked with him on several projects, I understand that style and what he's doing. But that doesn't mean I can't miss typos, etc., while I'm protecting his style. Fortunately it's been read in final mss. by a professional proof reader and will be read again just before it goes to the printer. Meantime I'm enjoying doing it.
It's a Wonderful Life is on TV and I'm keeping it on, muted, just so I can look up every once in a while and see Jimmy Stewart. I don't really need sound at this point--I pretty much know where the story is going.