What do you do on weekends?

 

I know a lot who read this blog are, like me, retired, so I think a question is relevant that came up in a small online group I belong to: how is the weekend any different. I mean, if you can set your own schedule all week long, what if anything sets Saturday or Sunday apart?

I particularly thought about it today because it was a long, lazy day. The guests I expected tonight came last night accidentally, so I had nothing to do to prepare. Sophie somehow senses weekends—she still gets me up at 7:00 promptly for what we are calling her first breakfast. Actually she tried for it at 6:30, but I gave her a piece of cheese and told her to hang on for half an hour. She did. But then, after she had eaten and gone outside briefly, she let me sleep until nine. This is a boon because the shot-givers in the house don’t like to get up early on Saturday, but Sophie has to have her shot within an hour of her second breakfast. All worked out fine.

Jordan was in and out of the cottage all morning, mostly raiding my fridge. She had five sleeping teenage boys and a party mess in the house, but they cleaned it up promptly once they were awake. She armed herself with leftover lunch meat, chip and dip makings, and the like, but I don’t think they ever came back after the TCU game. This evening when I wanted to fix my supper, I had to ask for several pans. But I was glad for her occasional company. She and Christian apparently watched the TCU game—I checked the score occasionally—and then tonight, with guests, the Baylor game. They are a house of divided loyalties, as is Megan’s house in Austin.

Meanwhile, I read emails, checked on the daily news—there was a lot that upset me today, mostly about ways Republicans were scheming to take away more freedoms and benefits. In Texas somehow in connection with the anti-abortion law they are targeting highways. Not sure how that works but soon if we’re not diligent it will be illegal to drive a car with a pregnant woman in it. Some days I read the news from various sources and don’t share much; other days I share every third thing I read. Today was one of the latter.

I was almost through a novel which had an interesting concept, though it too often wandered into introspection. Anyway, I was determined to finish it today so I could write a brief report for a writers' group that had expressed interest. The novel was inspired by the iconic Dorothea Lange Depression photograph, “Migrant Mother,” as was my award-winning short story, “Sue Ellen Learns to Dance,” and so I was comparing the handling of the core material in the two pieces. Glad to get it done.

Saturdays are often cooking days for me, and today was no exception. But I ran into a couple of roadblocks. I always have packages of frozen petite peas on hand, so I put one out to thaw for pea salad. Only after about an hour I discovered what I thought was peas was lima beans. I think I must have bought them by mistake, because I don’t particularly care for them. Fortunately, I had an almost full package of peas. Often if I’m eating alone on a grocery delivery day, I order one serving of fresh fish, so today I ordered a quarter lb. of Dover sole—and got a whole pound. After some deliberation I cooked the whole thing, figuring leftovers will make lunch. It’s such a delicate fish—in taste and texture—that every time I sauté it, I end with fish hash. Tonight, I baked it, and it was delicious and held together better, though I still didn't get a perfect filet.

So here I am, on a Saturday night, me and my computer. It’s been a good day, not a lot different from many of my days, and yet I had the sense all day long that it was Saturday, a day set apart. One thing jolted me tonight: at 5:30 I turned the TV on to see what Channel 5 reported on the day’s news—and got a football game. Suddenly I realized it’s that season again—football will pre-empt the news programs I look forward to. That does not brighten my Saturdays, though I know at least half the rest of the world is delighted.

What about you? Are Saturdays different?

Another day of trivia

I have frittered away the day with trivia...and oh, boy, does it feel good. I spent two long grueling days fixing formatting on a manuscript (not mine but one I was editing). Haven't heard from the managing editor, so not even sure if I did it right, but that is surely not the creative part of writing or editing. I love to edit, to catch little things, suggest better ways of saying something, ask what a passage means. Fiddling with extra spaces and track changes and all that, not so much. So I guess that's why I decided to take a vacation today.
Went to the grocery, where my outrage was that they carry Centrum Silver for Men but not for women--had to buy a generic. But my daughter-in-law just told me Centrum Silver is recommended by her ophthalmologist for eye health. Any idea what would happen if I took Centrum Silver for Men--no, we won't go there.
Lunch with friends but I forgot to put my hearing aids in which was a definite handicap. Still fun and good. Home to nap, and spent the afternoon fiddling with small things on my desk, worrying about whether or not I can afford the pants and shirt I want from a catalog, fixing a really special parfait for Jacob--strawberry yogurt, blueberries, granola, chocolate chips and chocolate sauce, all in layers. He didn't make it was far as the blueberries.
Quick visit with Jordan, nice happy hour with Jay and Susan who kindly invited me to go with them for barbecue. I declined, ate zucchini, asparagus, and smoked trout--low calorie but good. But oh my, that barbecue was tempting.
Now I've spent an inordinate amount of time on Facebook--did you know there's a breed of dog named Boerboel? One of the best guardian breeds--bred to fight lions in Africa. And Caucasian sheepdogs? I thought I knew about dogs but I keep learning about new breeds. In truth, these bits of trivial knowledge are one of the things I like about Facebook.
And now? I'm going to read. I know, I know--there's a novel to be written. But not tonight. However, I now have a grand plan for my writing career for the next few years. Watch my dust if I ever get over this spell of self-satisfied laziness.

The heartless grandmother

Given his druthers, Jacob would spend an entire day with Mincrafters on theiPad, the iPhone, and barring that, watching TV. It's not usually a problem because when he's here after school we're busy with homework and then he's off to baseball practice or a game. I figure between school and baseball and walking his dogs, he gets plenty of exercise and time away from electronics.
But he was recently grounded from electronics for several days, and he became the bright, talkative, loveable child I am used to. We went to dinner and had a great conversation, we laughed and joked, and he read a book in my office and declared now he knew why I love to read.
Today being Friday, he had no homework, so he was here from three to five-thirty (turned out to be six) without anything to do. He immediately picked up the iPad and disappeared, though I warned him he would not spend the whole afternoon with it.
At four I said it was time to put it away, and we had a bit of a scene. My words about wanting him to use his creativity instead of being a sponge fell on deaf ears--at seven, he may not have understood what I was saying. I suggested several things he could do but he shook his head at each and declared everything "in this house is boring." He came close to uttering one of the words he's forbidden to say, close enough that I got the gist and said if I heard that again he'd go to time out. I left him, taking the iPad with me, and told him to decide what he wanted to do. In a bit he came into my office.
End result: we had a delightful two hours. He dictated a letter to Elizabeth (my goal is to get him to write it himself) which caused lots of jokes and laughter and mock indignation on my part, and then he said if I'd do it with him, he'd do a puzzle. He absolutely delighted in doing a fairly simple one that we'd done before, but he had a wonderful time and crowed every time he put a piece in place. By then, it was five-thirty so we went to watch the news together. He was most interested in the woman who tried to storm the White House and wanted to know why the police shot her and why she did that. I tried to explain about mental illness and government security, but when the news cut away to another subject, he said, "I wanted to hear the whole story."
Long story short, we did things together--yes, I had work on my desk, but I chose to spend the time with him. I know grandmothers who won't discipline because they want to be loved. I don't feel that way, and I hope someday he'll remember me as the grandmother who tried to teach and appreciate and help his creativity. I read in Ann Landers about a grandmother who never called her grandchild on his lying. Ann Landers asked if she wanted to be remembered as the grandmother with whom the child could get away with anything. I don't want to be the grandmother who didn't care what he did and let him play electronic games all day.
Highpoint of a day which was quite pleasant--I wrote a lot, went to the dermatologist (one of my favorite people), and served Betty lunch on the deck--tuna salad and a fruit salad that really was pretty if I do say so.

Nothing is as easy as it seems

Thanks to all who understood about the typos in my blog last night and sent good wishes and advice. One of my symptoms was that I could not type--it simply came out gibberish. I wrote the blog late last night when I thought all was well--apparently not.
And what I thought was a one-day little deal has grown into a pain in the neck. I'm to have an MI (I think the office assistant meant MRI) tomorrow. I dread that because I'm a bit claustrophobic--time to practice yoga deep breathing, etc. And then I see my doctor Friday. Bad news for me: I am forbidden to drive at least until I see the doctor on Friday and he has the results of the MRI. I had invited friends for Friday night supper and had a wonderful menu planned, now all down the drain. I've left messages asking if we can't go out, and I'm adjusting slowly, rearranging my thinking. Optimist that I am, I plan on grocery shopping Saturday morning, but I did tell Elizabeth she might have to go on a wine run before that.
You'd think two days at home would be a great time to write but it's too uncertain--or I'm too uncertain. I may get a guest blog done--have one in mind--but I'm between novels, waiting for my mentor to critique the one I gave him last week. So, joy oh joy, I'll read. That's what I meant to do today but I didn't get far.
Nice treat: Jamie, my third child, had an appointment in town today and came afterward to take me to lunch. I had picked out a nice little Italian place but he was so late we went to the deli--my favorite place anyway. Such a good visit with him. I've said it before and will no doubt say it again, but much as I love all my children, it's lovely to have face-to-face time with one of them. Jamie went with me to pick up Jacob, who was thrilled to see him, and then we went to see Jamie's third grade teacher, who is still hard at work. Lots of hugs and good memories (Jacob looked a little bored.)
'Off to shower and then there's that book I've been wanting to read. Oh, wait, I've got to make sense out of the disorder of my desk.

When did first grade get so hard? And church so easy?

Jacob and I worked on homework from three o'clock, right after school, until almost five and then again for about 45 minutes after supper. He did so well on the spelling test last week (lots of drilling by all of us) that he got bumped up to a harder list this week--words like rapid, limit, spinner that aren't normaly in his vocabulary. And he had to use each word in a sentence so he needed a lot of coaching and encouragement--and sometimes flat-out help. He got so he'd say, "You go first," when we were thinking up sentences, but I said, "No, it's your homework." Took forever but we got it done. And the reading book was harder for him today--for some reason, he could not keep the name "Anita" in his mind, kept wanting to make it into a more complicated Spanish name.We labored through it twice this afternoon and the third, required time after supper. And then we worked on spelling--I had him copy the words and say them, and then I read them to him and he wrote them down--sort of. He surely did not get a 100 but we have the rest of the week to go. He actually wanted to do the spelling words three times--thinks it's fun. But how do you explain that picnic doesn't have a "k"  but "quick" does? God bless the English language. Frankly, I'm exhuasted tonight.
I've been a churchgoer all my life but often a sporadic one--there were long spells, during my marriage for instance and another time when anxiety was really bothering me--when I didn't go, and in recent years I attended only occasionally because I didn't like going alone--or that's what I told myself. Jordan and Christian were determined that Jacob grow up with a church background--she never had that, which makes me feel guilty to this day. So now they go to church every Sunday, and I go because once when I didn't Jacob was most upset about it. I looked at him during  the service yesterday and thought, "This is the child that led us all back to church." I know it's not for everyone, but for me it feels good to be worshipping regularly. And so I am thankful for Jacob for yet another reason.
And now when I welcome visitors by phone and tell them how glad we are they worshipped with us on Sunday, I don't feel like a hypocrit!
Still have to get Jacob settled in bed and convince him that he has school tomorrow and so cannot watch TV until he falls asleep. Life with a six-year-old is a challenge but such fun!

Jacob learns to read

I have been the proverbial, over-worrying grandmother, afraid beyond belief that Jacob was not learning to read. To me, an English major, an author, and a reader who never goes anywhere without a book or a book on the iPhone or iPad, reading is the key that opens the whole world. Without it you're forever limited. Jacob's good at spatial and math problems, but reading made him throw up his hands and say, "You know I can't read." No, I refused to accept that, and I probably made it worse by trying to make him sound out words. He'd say, "I'm so tired. Just tell me what it is." Last week, I promised to back off, after his teacher told his parents that a booklet I tried to get him to read was a math exercise and not to worry about reading.So I backed off and worried in private.
Today, he was so excited when he unpacked his backpack--honestly, it's the biggest backpack for a six-year-old! "I'm learning to read," he shouted. And indeed I think this is the beginning of the formal teaching of reading. He had a baggie labeled "Jacob's Book Bag." In it were a letter to his parents outlining the program, a sheet they have to sign that says he read his assignment to an adult at least three times--"we can read it more," he assured us--and a small booklet. Granted, it was pretty simple: "Mom is cooking," "Mom is digging," "Mom is running," and, after all that activity, "Mom is sleeping." But he was so proud he read it to me twice, and then read it again when his dad came to get him.
I am excited by his excitement. Excuse me, now, but I have to go read the mystery novel I'm in the middle of.

Anticipating what you already know

Do you ever read a book or see a movie for the second or third time and still find yourself getting anxious as the scary, climactic, whatever part of it approaches? That's what's happened to me tonight--I'm doing the absolute last read-through on my mystery, and as that climactic scene approaches, I'm distracting myself, turning to other things, etc. I don't know if it's because the scene always scares me a bit--it really does--or because I'm afraid I'll see the flaws in it. As I've read through, at this late stage, I've thought of totally different ways the plot could go, pieces that I didn't think worked, etc. I guess I'm at the point of chewing it to death and I best get it done and back to the editor. But the part about reliving the tension of the scene holds true too. Years ago I wrote a short story, "The Art of Candle Dipping" (now free for download on Smashwords) that affected me that way. The story garnered some acclaim, and I found myself reading it aloud to an audience on more than one occasion. And darned if I didn't cry each time. Other people's books do that to me but I'm not sure what it means when your own writing makes you emotional--is it ego, a sign that you like your writing, or, praise be, a sign that it's pretty good? I have no idea, but I'll have to wait for reaction to this particular ending. Meantime I'm almost through with that final edit . . . and itching to lose myself in reading something by someone else.
My big accomplishment for the day: I hydrated the cat. Gave Wywy 2 cc. of Ringer's solution subcutaneously. Moksha, the wonderfully kind and gentle petsitter, came to watch and help--and he actually got the needle onto the tube, so I have to learn to do that before next week when I do it alone. It went pretty well, except early on in the procedure Wywy decided he'd had enough and bolted from my lap, a move I wasn't expecting. In the flurry of the moment I didn't think it through and thought he'd go running off still attached to the tubing and bag of solution. I bolted after him, and nearly tripped over the tubing. Moksha meanwhile, had a much calmer head--after saving me from tripping, he turned off the drip. The needle, of course, had slipped out of Wywy's back when he ran. I retrieved a now-angry cat, Moksha put a new needle in place, and we proceeded. I was ready for the tensing of muscles that would indicate a break for freedom and kept a firm hold, all the while talking softly and encouraging. We finally got the 2 cc. into him, and then I fed him--showing him I wasn't mean.
Betty and I went exploring tonight and split a really good deli sandwich and each had cole slaw. Really reasonable meal, although the wine was pretty weak. Decor meant for a motorcyle gang--I swear the waiter looked at us as if to say, "What are you two ladies doing here?" I was glad when another older couple came in. Not a place we'll go back to, but we drove by a place I've wondered about for a long time. I came home, looked it up on the web, and decided it must be our next dining adventure.
Colin called tonight and we talked a bit but then I said, "Oops, Betty's here. We're going out to dinner." His response was, "You have a much busier social life than I do." I do hope he's glad his aged mother isn't sitting home withering.

Cool evenings and lazy days

An absolutely perfect night for supper on the front porch--temperature just right, a slight breeze, good friends, good food. Above, left to right are my neighbor Susan, Weldon who had a harem tonight unless you count Jacob, Jordan, Jacob, and Elizabeth (Beth), my longtime friend, yoga teacher, co-teacher of writing classes and former student--and also Weldon's wife. We had traditional Labor Day food--hot dogs, potato salad, beans, a bean and veggie dip that Jordan made, a grape and cheese platter from Susan and quinoa salad from Elizabeth. They are on gluten, dairy, sodium free diets (there's one other thing but I can't remember it). Anway, the quinoa, which I was always leery of and never could learn to pronounce, was really good. I made that County Line potato salad that I'm so enamored of--the distinguishing taste is dill pickle relish, and it makes it so good. It's not non-fattening--lots of sour cream and mayo, though I used low-fat in both cases. Still I had more than one helping today. Compensated by not eating a bun with my hot dog. Susan and I were standing on the porch looking at my cactus plant that is, I think, growing new cacti when I felt this swat on my bottom. I turned around and Jacob asked, "Is there 'ssert?" He got an ice cream cup.

Lazy day--no work, except housework, and much reading of a good novel. I am a huge fan of Carolyn Hart and just finished her Christie Caper, which I thought was really one of her most suspenseful, with a surprising twist. At the back was a teaser for Southern Ghost, which I immediately ordered for my Kindle and now I can't put it down. Wish I wrote like that.

I've lost track, but here's the latest cat report: the cat is eating ravenously, but I have to mix a little tuna in with the kidney diet food. Sleeps on my desk sometimes, but really really likes his new hidey-hole in the closet. I showed Jacob, on demand, but said he must never touch the cat when its in there.

A pleasant day. And I have no plans to get ambitious tomorrow either! Life is good. I like the phrase, "It is well with my soul."

A neat day

Yesterday I began to think maybe the glow was wearing off retirement. I spent the whole day at home, without much if any human contact, and though I kept busy I don't like days like that. And my lunch dates are slowing down (I'll just have to get busy about that). But today was a good day, one in which I felt very self-confident about my walking and everything else. Slept medium late, got up and went to the office for just over an hour; came home and piddled with emails, etc., and then went to lunch with my friend, Fred. I had cajoled him into coming early so we could go to Nonna Tata (where I could have braseola) but then I realized it's closed on Mondays. So I said I'd take him to a new place--Ellerbees. Wonder of wonders, we got one of the two in-front parking spaces and walked in--only to discover an empty restaurant with tables from the patio stacked on tables inside and a strong smell of paint. We ended at Carshon's, where I had my usual tongue sandwich and enjoyed it thoroughly. Came home to finish The Diva Takes the Cake--really a surprise ending, take a nap, do my yoga, and fix a good dinner--chicken loaf from the freezer, haricot vert that I had to sort carefully because I'd left them in the fridge too long, and the last of the pea salad I made last night. Good, but I was two points over my daily limit. Still, this morning I had lost .8 lbs. so I'm feeling good about that.
Tonight I must do some more contract work for TCU Press and then want to work on the piece about forty years a Texan that I've drafted. I've got to begin drumming up more free lance work lest the days of retirement yawn long before me.
Jordan, Christian and Jacob leave for four days in Jamaica tomorrow--I hope Jacob proves to be a good traveler. Even at my house, he often says, "Let's go home" so who knows how it will go that far away. But they are excited, and I hope they have a fantastic trip. As always, I'll breathe a tiny sigh of relief when they're home Friday night.
Hmmm--what book shal I start next? Tomorrow I really have to get back to that cookbook, but tonight I can indulge. Isn't that what retirement is all about?

Introducing new foods to a three-year-old

Master Jacob is spending the night tonight and has been in really good humor the whole evening, laughing, talking, teasing, hiding from me, etc. A contrast to the nights when he's been in day care and is sooooo tired. I decided I would enlarge his food horizons, so I cut a sweet potato into cubes, tossed it with olive oil, salt and pepper and baked it, steamed some asparagus (pretty tough and woody), and gave him leftover pork tenderloin (which he declined earlier in the week) and avocado. Jordan always puts his food on a china plate, heats it in the microwave, and then transfers it to one of his plastic plates. I did that, but big mistake--I put the avocado on the plate and heated it. Jacob informed me it was nasty. Long story short, he spit out eveything he took a bite of, and I was really glad I didn't share my Dover sole with him. I broke down and did what goes against my principles--made him a piece of cheese toast, which he said he wanted but barely ate two bites of. Still, it's a grandmother's privilege to indulge so I gave him one cookie--but I held firm when he wanted a second. Jordan advises giving him his milk early so he can pee before he gets his night diaper. Did that, but then when I had him all set for bed, he wanted more milk (and no, the session on the potty was a bust--he said, "No peepee."). I thought what the heck? Milk is good for him. He took one sip and threw the sippee cup on the floor--it's now in the fridge for morning. But he went peacefully and happily to bed. He has been fascinated by the monitor in my office, so I told him if he sang me a song I could hear him but all I hear is him rattling around. When he were in Houston, Jordan decided he couldn't sleep in his pack-and-play because he was too long, but I had him stretch out in mine tonight and he still fits.
Other than Jacob's visit, the day was a bust. Other than an early trip to Central Market--where I had to ask for help from the cart guy to get across the driveway (made me so mad!)--I did zilch, wandered around, emptied the recycle thing, read a bit, just piddled, and knew I needed to be engaged. So after I ate my lunch, I cleaned the refrigerator, made the meat sauce for tomorrow night's casserole, steamed the asparagus for tonight, and cleaned the indoor grill which I had ignored since cooking the pork tenderloins on Tuesday. Made me feel a lot better to move around and do things.
I do get to read a lot when Jacob is here--he plays contentedly with the toys in the playroom, and I sit and read. Occasionally he comes to have a long conversation with me, about half of which I get. We play "Where's Jacob?" much to his delight, and tonight he gave Scooby a bone--something he's been afraid of lately. So it's been a pleasant day and most pleasant evening.

A much better day

I talked yesterday about doing the things that annoy me. Well, today was a biggie--I took my car to the VW place for a variety of fixes. Their driver drove me to work--the drivers are always polite, quiet young men with whom it's hard to carry on a sustained conversation so we ride in what to me is uncomfortable silence. I got my neighbor, Susan, to take me back tonight to get it. But the result is, at some great cost, I almost have a new car--the front bumper or whatever they call it now no longer hangs down perilously close to the street (I must stop driving up so close to burbs), the tires are all new, the brake fluid is changed, the convertible top is fixed (so they say--this is the second time they've "fixed" it), and it has had its 20,000-mile checkup. So I drove happily home with that behind me. Of course, the car is now out of warranty--but I remember when I bought it they said I didn't really need an extended warranty. Oh, well.
Tonight I made myself some chicken salad--I like the kind with ground chicken--and it was sure was good, with sauteed snap peas on the side. Then I spent a long time making a buffalo meatloaf. Tomorrow night I'll fix a bourbon sauce for it, and some German potato salad to go with it. Jordan and Christian are coming, and maybe Jay and Susan.
Other than that, I'm getting over my blahs but not quite back to writing. I went to a lunch program today where a colleague talked about his recently published thriller, which it took him 13 years to write. I do NOT have that kind of patience. I'm reading a mystery which I find boring, so tonight I told myself I don't have to finish it--I can just erase it from my Kindle. And I ordered a new one. So I think I'll spend the rest of the evening reading.

A cooking weekend

Sometimes, much as I welcome a three-day weekend, I look forward to it with apprehension, the same kind I felt about ten days away at Christmas. Will I get itchy for company? Will I be bored. I should learn not to worry--so far this has been a pleasand and lovely weekend. Having Jacob spend the night Friday started it off, and he woke Saturday in a delightful mood. We"hung out" in the living room talking for a long time--well, it was a one-way discussion on his part, though I tried valiantly to participate. When he watched me dress, he pointed to my breasts and said something about bumps. I thought at first he was talking about some large but nondangerous moles but it turns out he meant nipples. So I said, "You have nipples too" and pointed. He nodded, "I have apples."
After his parents came to get him, I went to the grocery (later than usual), came home and did two chores on my "must do" list--bagged up the pile of droppings in the backyard (I clean every night but just make a pile to the side of the yard) and it was past due time to get rid of it, and I crawled under the railing to turn the porch hose back on and give the plants a good watering--had to turn it off when it froze and yesterday was the first day nice enough to be out there. After lunch Jean came--she has been without internet for two weeks and, by her own admission, cranky about it. I fully understandd--I get cranky even I'm without it for a day. It did get me to thinking how it's changed our world and our habits. She worked at my computer for almost two hours while I read that novel I started while watching Jacob. Then last night I had eggplant parmegiana with Jay and Susan--I'm always serving them leftovers so they invited me to share theirs, and it was delicious. A pleasant, comfortable evening--good food and very good company, including the new dog Rio who wants so badly to get in everyone's lap. I finally said at almost nine that I had to come home to work, but of course I didn't--I read.
Today I've been cooking. Texas Monthly somehow has me on their list to send weekly recipes too. Sometimes I delete, sometimes I forward, and occasionally I cook one. This week it was lemon/garlic chicken with tomato basil sauce. Jordan and Christian are coming for dinner, with Jacob of course. I've made the marinade--soy, lemon, sugar, etc.--and the sauce--called for roasting Roma tomatoes on the grill. Washed the lettuce for dinner and did some other chores, and then decided it's time to sit for a while before I do my yoga and make some cheese grits for Jacob and Christian (Jordan and I probably will steal bit but it's not on the recommended eating list).
Things I did not do: go to church (I had good intentions but as I often do on Sunday mornings, I got busy cooking). I also didn't journal, although Susan sent me home with a blank notebook last night. Years ago, she read The Artist's Way, and it recommended jounraling for 30 minutes every morning first thing, writing without planning, whatever comes into your mind, whether it makes sense or not. To me, it sounds like a good plan, supposed to free your creativity from everyday worries. Jay maintained just thinking those random unorganized thoughts wouldn't do it--it's the act of putting them on paper. There ensued a discussion about creativity, because he said Susan and I (she's an artist) were creative, whereas he was not, and we argued that what he does--sales--is an art form at which he's very good and neither of us could do. Susan's been writing her journal entries for twenty years, and it's second nature to her now, but she admitted you have to do it for a while before you begin to feel any effect. Once again, I had good intentions, but I got into my morning routine almost without knowing it--and on Sundays, that's a cup of coffee, the morning paper, and the news. And I know at this point I'd never get up 30 minutes early on a work morning.
Tomorrow I'll make green noodles with mushrooms, scallions, artichoke hearts, lemon, pesto and Parmesan for Jeannie and Jim. He's going to take a look at my finances and tell me where he thinks I am. I also fix some tuna salad and tomato basil soup, combining some organic packaged soup with the leftover sauce from tonight. I'm going to unofficially close my office for a couple of hours and invite Susan and Melinda to lunch to watch the inauguration. So it's a cooking weekend--the kind I like. And I bet I finish that novel today!

A Jacob evening

Jacob is spending the night tonight, and oh boy, was he in high spirits. He wanted to get into everything. He'd pick up knitting needles and look at me to see my reaction. I said, "Not for Jacob." Then he'd try something else and watch my reaction. But he's good about amusing himself and played endlessly with the dollhouse in the playroom, the stick horse, the trike (which he can't quite master). Only occasoinally he'd settle onto the bed to watch his DVD. When I told him to get the stool so he could climb into his pack-and-play, he made no objection, but then with my back turned he crawled into it by himself. Almost fell, but I caught him. At least he can't get out of it unassisted--at least I don't think he can.
The evening made me think about the issue of playing with children. A recent Ann Landers column (okay, I read them in the morning paper) dealt with mothers who complained they were tired to death of "playing" with their children, much as they loved them. The two--playing and loving--aren't necessarily the same. I don't remember actually playing with my children a lot--for most of the time there were four and they played with each other. But I clearly remember one morning when Maddie (then about two and now almost ten) said, "Come on, Juju, play with me!" I was a bit at a loss. And I don't really play with Jacob, as in getting down on the floor and moving his trucks or the dollhouse people or whatever. But we've worked out a routine that is comfortable for both of us--I sit with a book, and he plays, and I sometimes tease him about what he's doing or talk about it, and he grins. He had a smelly diaper tonight and that became a great game--he hid behind the hobby horse and anywhere else he thought I couldn't get him, so I finally ignored him and he emerged. Diaper changed and pajamas on, but not without a struggle. When he announced he'd go home now, I said no, he was spending the night with Juju and his mommy and dada would come in the morning. He seemed quite philosophical about it.
Because I was watching Jacob, I let myself get distracted from my chores. Started a J. A. Jance novel I'd just ordred for my Kindle and now of course I'll spend the rest of the evening on it instead of reading my own second mystery, reading the proposed manuscript I brought home, finishing my taxes--all those chores that loom. I have a long weekend to do them--our office is closed Monday for Martin Luther King Day.

Distraction, Procrastination, and Writing Habits

A big distraction! This is how I'm spending the weekend. Megan and Brandon came from Austin for her 20th high school reunion--who can believe?--and I babysat Sawyer, 4, and Ford, not quite 2. Jacob is the one in the middle. I owe Jordan a fancy lunch, dinner, whatever, because she came over and helped get everyone fed, diapered and pajamed, and all tonight. I know--I used to do it all myself with four, not two, and others would come into my house amazed at the pandemonium amidst which I was, so they tell me, fairly quiet as I explained that 5:30 was the "fussing hour." Hungry, tired babies. But that was almost 40 years ago, and I'm a tad older, a tad less resilient. Still, I did the cooking, Jordan marshalled the kids, and we had an almost sane dinner hour--one biting incident, much jumping on beds which is a no-no in my house. But then we settled down to read and all was well.

The boys are fun, but they are exhausting--and the Austin boys are not as used to being here as Jacob, so Ford cried long and hard before he went to sleep tonight. But I'm loving it, because I haven't known these boys as well as the others, and this has been a great weekend for "bonding." Now they not only know "Gaga" but they know my house, the toys I keep (including the train set I thought was going back to Austin), the animals--"yes, you may give the dog a bone, no, don't touch the cat!" I hope they'll come more often now.

One of the Sisters in Crime listservs has been full of discussions of distractions, and how you prevent them from keeping you from your writing. With all those comments about writing habits, naturally I examined my own. I have, as readers of this blog know, not been writing for over a week--a "big" birthday weekend, recovery from that--cleaning up the details at home, writing thank-yous, generally getting my feet back under me--kept me from writing as did anticipation of this weekend when I would again be distacted. And I've written about the Julia Spencer-Fleming novels that have me so engrossed that I'm neglecting my own writing--like I can't live in two extra worlds at once. But I think there's even something else going on. I think I tend to put my writing on the back burner when I'm not sure where it's going. Yes, I have some notes, but I'm uncertain about what happens between here and there, when it is time to introduce yet another element, am I making the people real enough. The latter is a question the Spencer-Fleming novels make me ask, because her characters are so real to me. I know the cure for this--and it's hard work. Start on page one, read the whole thing over again, make notes, and move on. Even if you move on in the wrong direction, at least its movement. Maybe I'll think about that Monday.

Meantime, I have the last of a novel to finish reading, I think maybe both Sawyer and Ford have gone to sleep--Ford screamed for probably half an hour. I rubbed his back, gave him more milk, told him Mama would be home soon, but he was pretty much inconsolable.

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.

Oh-Oh! Another Day at Home

I've stayed in again all day. Yes, it's beastly hot outside, but that's not the reason. Every bit of me feels much, much better than yesterday, which must have just been an off day--every bit of me, that is, except my right foot, which hurts like *&%$#. It dawned on me this morning, after I put a chicken in to roast and settled at my desk to read the newspaper, that it really hurt, and I wasn't going to a luncheon today, even though it was in honor of Betty. I called Betty, who was sad that neither Jeannie nor I could make it; I called the hostess who suggested someone would pick me up, but I knew I should just stay off it; I called my brother who prescribed aspirin every four hours and hot soaks; I called Jeannie, who is so down in her back she couldn't go to the luncheon, and she suggested we'd make a great team. Then I settled in for a long day at home--sometimes I don't handle them gracefully, but I actually enjoyed this one.
I wrote more on my novel, and it seemed to flow--maybe I wrote five pages. But I got hoooked on Bleeding Kansas, a contemporary anti-war novel that draws on "Bleeding Kansas'" Civil War history. Written by Sara Parestsky, it's set outside Lawrence, where history-minded folk still know all about Quantrill's Raiders. Paretsky is known for V. I. Warshawski novels, about a female private eye in Chicago, and she wrote one recent nonfiction book, Writing in an Age of Silence, that I liked a lot because it dwells on writing, the state of publishing in today's world, and strongly echoes my own liberal views. In fact, I e-mailed her after reading that book and received a lovely, gracious reply. I'm not liking this one as well--she's better at mysteries--but I agree with the sentiments she's trying to get across, and I find myself drawn to the book, picking it up again and again (okay, picking up the Kindle) when I should be writing my own book. I'm such a Paretsky fan that I hate to criticize but I do find some of the characters stereotypical and too broadly drawn, especially the redneck family who are high on born-again Christianity and patriotism.
I've tried to stay off my feet today, but it's amazing on a quiet day at home how much walking you do--laundry in the dryer had to be folded, clean dishes unloaded from the dishwasher, plants inside and out watered, the bed made, animals fed, and on and on. Tonight I've done it all, I think, and I'm about to go soak my feet and then go next door to Sue's house for supper--she starts a new job tomorrow, a big jump in her career, and wants a cheering team of one tonight.

Of Grandchildren and Birthdays, Books and plants

What a lovely 24 hours! Jamie and Mel, Maddie and Edie arrived about 8 Friday night, and since Edie had said she wanted to cook with Juju, we whisked right into the kitchen and put slices of French bread in milk and eggs to soak overnight for French toast. The rest of the evening was filled with girls' chatter and occasional adult conversations. I swear those girls went to bed three times, playing musical beds each time. I can never tell when I get up who will be sleeping where.
Next morning Edie and I fed everyone our French toast--which was crispy on the outside and nice and soggy inside--and then Maddie and I made a bean dip for Jacob's b'day party--I popped it in the oven when the toast came out. Mel and I each had errands to fund, so we all went together--with the girls. The vet, the drugstore, Barnes & Noble, Origins for make-up. And on the way home I suddenly remembered the bean dip which was still baking away. It had big crusts around the edge, so I let it cool and cut the crust away. It tasted like those crusty bits of cheese that drip out of a sandwich onto the skillet and harden. I was sort of reluctant to throw those crusts away. Later in the day, I stirred the dip, heated it in Jordan's microwave and put it out--people kept asking how I made that delicious dish. Of course with my big mouth I had to tell the whole story.
Jacob's birthday parties--yes, two--were delightful. There was a pool party at a nearby public pool--the seating area is roofed and had a wonderful breeze. The kids and most of the adults had a great time in the pool but Jacob refused to do more than dangle his feet in the water, in spite of the urgings of Maddie, the favorite cousin whom he calls, as we all do in affection, "Moo." (That's an earlier picture of them playing.) Then it was back to Jacob's house for chips and dip, barbecue and potato salad, and presents. Jacob thoroughly enjoyed every minute and didn't seem to get over-stimulated. He was very methodical about opening presents, pulling every piece of tissue out of each bag, while Maddie kept a list so Jacob and Jordan can do thank-yous. Christian put on a funny tape of Jacob's first introduction to baby food and we all had a good laugh--since all 25-30 people gathered were either famly or close friends, no one yawned and said, 'Oh, home movies. How wonderful (?)"
Jamie and his family headed back to Dallas, and I came home tired but happy. I did manage a little reading over the weekend. Finished In the Bleak Midwinter by Julia Spencer-Fleming and was so taken with it I jumped right into her second book, A Fountain of Blood. Problem is I find myself thinking in the world of the novel I'm reading instead of the one I'm writing--not good. Am I going to have to give up reading to write? That sure goes contrary to traditional advice.
I am starting a planter tray of seeds of spiral marigold plants--they grow into bushes, instead of the usual marigolds but right now they're the tiniest green shoots. It's fun to watch them change visibly day by day.
Life doesn't get much better than grandchildren, books, and plants. Today I'm catching up--straightening the house, cleaning up, writing, reading, and planning ahead for the week.

The trip that wasn't and other things

Tonight I should be on a plane to Scotland. It left, without us, at 5:20 from DFW. By now I've grown accustomed to the missed trip and almost put it behind me, but the day does have a certain poignancy. Jeannie's husband is doing well, will be moved from ICU to Progressive Care tomorrow and probably to a rehab facility late in the week. He's out of the woods, and that is the greatest blessing. And, I must confess that excited as I was about this trip, I am not a comfortable traveler. It was a challenge for which I'd worked myself up, so now I have that feeling of "Whew! I don't have to worry about getting on a long flight across the pond." Granted, excitement over the trip was a much more dominant emotion that uncertainty about travel, but that element is still there. Jeannie said Jim looked at her today and asked, "Is this the day you were going to Scotland?" and when she said yes, he said "You'll go later." We will, and maybe the exchange rate will be better. Meantime I've got a new book to read: The Creaky Traveler in the North West Highlands of Scotland: A Journey for the Mobile but Not Agile. Boy, does that fit me!
I've read my first novel on my Kindle, amazon's hand-held reader, and I liked it a lot. I had stockpiled books on it in preparation for Scotland and now decided I should start reading them. So I read an Aurora Teagarden mystery called Real Murders and got hooked on it. Found the Kindle every bit as easy to read as a book, though I'm sure I'm underusing it. I keep meaning to read the directions but that hasn't happened yet. Also anticipating Scotland, I'd sloughed off on the projects on my desk, but tonight I worked on my chapter for Grace & Gumption: The Cookbook and tomorrow I'll get back to being seriuos about Scots in Texas. I don't like not writing. Writing is a whole big part of who I am.
My cat and I are at war. He wants fresh food every time he's hungry, while I maintain he should eat the perfectly good food that he left behind in his bowl. I even take a spoon and fluff it up so it's easier for him to eat. Sometimes he doesn't even check the bowl. He just comes to stalk me, sits at my desk and stares at me forlornly. If I get up for anything, he leaps head of me and heads for his food dish. Now I know he's old--sixteen, I think--and needs indulging, but he's carrying it way too far. There was a period when I thought he was fading--his once luxurious tail looked like a rat's tail, he was thin, and he just didn't look well. The vet couldn't figure it out. But I sent the fantastic pointsettia I'd had since mid-December home with Melinda for her to plant, and Wywy improved quite quickly. His tail filled out; I think he gained a little weight; he was interested in my tuna fish and scrambled eggs and almost anything I ate. No poinsettia next year!
Speaking of food, I was in the doctor's office last week and I've gained eight lbs. So I'm cutting down on the outrageous amounts of butter I've been cooking with and cutting out the chocolate sundae I loved in the evening. No more Girl Scout cookies in the afternoon. And pretty much I'm off red meat, though not a strict thing. I bought a ton of vegetables when I shopped this weekend. My goal is seafood and vegetables--sounds good to me. Oh, yes, I'm off cottage cheese. Once before I quit eating cottage cheese and lost so much weight my brother was alarmed. But these days I'm not eating so much of that for breakfast and am eating oatmeal, which is supposed to make you lose weight. If I'm gaining because of oatmeal, I'm going to feel really cheated.

Musings

I wish I had weighty thoughts to share, but I don't have a one. My real feeling is that too much has landed on my plate in the last two weeks, and I'm tired. I thought that when I went to the grocery today about 1:30 and my legs felt incredibly tired. Came home, put away groceries, tidied up some details, and had a good nap.
It's no good detailing what all has hit me. Most of you know about Jeannie's husband's aneurysm and our cancelled trip to Scotland. The good news is that he is doing wonderfully well, pretty much a miracle--last night he was sitting up in bed watching CNN. He has a long haul ahead of him, lots of rehab, but it's all positive. I've spent the last week cancelling railroad tickets, airline tickets, b&b reservations, etc. The great good news today was that I can apply for a refund for the tickets without going to the airport--considering that there were thousands and thousands of disgruntled people at DFW because of American's cancelled flights, this was really a good thing. Lightened my load a lot.
Tomorrow I'll go to Frisco. Maddie and her mom are going camping with her Brownie troop, so I'll "hang out" with Jamie and Edie. Home again Saturday to babysit Jacob--first time we've tried having him spend the night. I'm probably not as apprehensive as his mom is. But I do know that I have somehow killed my right shoulder--it's hurts all the time, sometimes acutely, sometimes a dull ache. So picking chunk-a-munk Jacob up will be a challenge. I think I've figured out a left-handed way to do it, if he cooperates. Being with children and granchildren is the kind of relaxation I need--and takes me away from office matters, which have been a bit frustrating lately. I discovered I have 21 days of vacation accrued--I may just run and play for three weeks. Wish I could make myself do that, but I will take some time.
Tonight I experimented and fixed myself a sort-of version of middle Eastern stuffed zucchini. My sort-of version turned out to be bland, so I put a bunch of salt on it--ah, bad. I discovered today, at the doctor's office, that I weigh a whole lot more than I want to, so I'm going to watch cooking with butter, etc., and some of my other bad habits. Ground meat? It's going to be buffao, except that I think I'll make lamb burgers for Jacob's parents Sunday night. (There's always that "except" . . . .)
I found an author whose mysteries I relaly like. Cleo Cloyce who writes a series set in a coffeehouse in Greenwich Village. Such fun to discover a new author. Problem is I zip through all the books. But I have a lot of books on my Kindle that are unread--I was saving them for Scotland, but now I'll start on them--and I'll take the Kindle to Frisco tomorrow.
I'm also going to carry a backpack instead of a purse. I think that might ease my shoulder. We'll see. Maybe I'll look like a college student :-)

A friend needs prayers, reading, and Mexican night at the Alters

My friend Katie today emailed asking for prayers for her husband, Gayland Pool, who will have bypass surgery in the morning. Gayland is a wonderful person, a retired Episcopalian priest who happens to make the best bread ever. He and Katie have my prayers and those of all who know and love them. Sometimes I am saddened by how many people need our prayers, saddened and also grateful for the good health and good fortune my family and I enjoy.
I read about a blog today called http://www.200books.com. The writer, a bookstore owner, has vowed to read 200 books in 2008, and she's keeping a page count, and a record of her reading, on her blog, along with assorted other comments. She's doing this because she's alarmed at how little most Americans read for pleasure. Hats off to her! I'm glad to say, however, that I'm one of those who reads for pleasure.
TCU Press decided today--by democratic vote of the staff and our graduate student--to give up our blog, The Bookish Frog in case anyone is reading, and send our news to the Texas A&M University Press blog (http://bookblog.typepad.com). A&M distributes our books, and their blog is linked to RSS feeds (okay, I'm still learning about this).
Tonight was Mexican night at the Alters. Jordan has been doing this for years. In fact, she started asking for taco dinners for her birthday as a very young child. As a young single person, she began inviting friends for taco dinners at my house It became Mexican night at the Alters, and the faces change a bit, but they're mostly the same young people I've known for years. I like having them around me, though tonight I admit my feet and back are more than a little tired. Jordan did most of the work, and I did most of the cleanup. We had tacos, Colin's queso (hamburger and pork sausage, 1 lb. each, a 16 oz. jar of Pace picante, a lb. of Velveeta, and a can of mushroom soup--you can vary the spice of it by choosing regular or hot sausage, mild or hot picante), leftover tamale pie (which everyone raved about), and Jordan's layered dip. Enough left over to feed Cox's army. Plus I made a pan of brownies. I'll freeze those and have them for late night snacks. In fact, excuse me a minute--I need a brownie.
Jacob was a little solemn during the evening, but I maintain he was a bit overwhelmed by being the only child among 15 tall people he didn't know. His father kept saying, "He's trying to get sick" until I told him if he said that again I'd bop him. I don't believe in planting the illness model in children's heads, even though he did have a fever this morning (teething, maybe). Christian said, "He doesn't know what I said," but I don't believe that either. Jacob's understands a whole lot more than he talks about. Tonight one of the girls asked him to show her the lions, and he took her by the hand and led her to my neighbors house where there are indeed concrete lions.
Ready for bed, but there are still a few young people on my porch enjoying themselves. It's nice that it turned out to be the warmest evening we've had in a long time, the first front porch night of spring.