A lovely day--and some writing thoughts

It was a lovely day. Jacob woke up happy and as full of energy as a whirling dervish. He tries me--when I tell him no, he looks at me as though trying to figure out how serious I am about this, like the fact that a knitting needle is sharp and would hurt Jacob. But when I get stern enough and tell him no--or insist that we're going to change his diaper no matter what he thinks about it--he goes along. This morning he ate waffles and syprup, and I have decided to become the kind of grandmother who feeds them all the sweet things they shouldn't have but love.

After Jordan came to pick up Jacob (he declared he didn't want to leave so Jordan told him we were going shopping and would leave him here and he changed his tune pretty fast), Jeannie and I went to run and play--Tuesday morning, Steinmart, lunch at our favorite sandwich shop (egg salad was soooo good), and Central Market. She was ready to play all afternoon, but I insisted I had to come home and fix dinner for Jean and Jim (Jean just out of the hospital since Thursday) and have a nap.
I fixed chicken packets in foil--Stove Top stuffing, chicken, peas (well I forgot to buy them and used corn with the few peas I had), mushrooms, cream of mushroom soup and a bit of water (next time I think wine might improve the flavor) plus fruit salad and leftover roast broccoflower. For being out of the hospital for two days, Jean looks and sounds terrific but says she is aware that she can tire out quickly. I had made a chicken packet for myself, so that was dinner--with half of it let over.
But all day, while running around, I've been mulling about writing. In an obituary about Bud Shrake, he was quoted as once saying that "we write because that's how we figure out about life and death." The other night, when I had a meeting of the poet and the artist, the poet's wife said, "I write because I can. He writes because he has to." Both those statements have made me think. I have always felt that I write because I have to. I can't imagine a life without writing. But do the things I write help me or my readers figure out life and death and other significant issues? I'm not so sure. I think in some ways the historical fiction I have done may have moved in that direction but not significantly. And the cozies I'm trying to write now? No, they're escape reading, the kind I enjoy. But I once read that when you finish a book you should be in a different place than when you started it--and I don't think that's true about the two mysteries I've tried. Now whether they have value for entertainment may be a different question. The children's books? Yes, I feel they've made a contribution to children's knowledge (albeit without helping them figure out the significant questions about life), so perhaps I've done some good there.
I have an idea floating around in my mind about a novel that may help me explore deeper issues, something that might be of more lasting value. And in my golden years I'd like to do that, I'd like to write one significant thing. Meantime I have that second mystery to finish.
And I've thought that all that is what separates me from Bud Shrake and other writers of his signifigance.

Weaather and shopping with grandkids

It's supposedly stormy in Fort Worth this morning, which makes me worry about my poor Scooby who's so terrified. It always seems to storm when I leave town. In Frisco yesterday we were shopping when it began to pour, followed by thunder and lightning that was spectacular ad close.It was still doing it last night when I went to sleep.

I am not a shopper but shopping with the girls yesterday was fun. I had given Maddie what I thought was a generous gift certificate for Justice, a girls' clothing store I'd never heard of. So off we went, and she picked out six tops. Of course she didn't have nearly enough credit and I was torn between offering to cover the balance and realizing this was a good lesson in reality for her (the attitude both her parents took). So she ended up with one top, earrings, and cut-off jeans. All of this, however, took a loooooong time. Next stop Target, where she had a smaller certificate and bought a metal detector--she plans to pan for gold when we go to Colorado at Christmas but meantime she had fun with it in the house--Jamie hid metal items under throw rugs for her to find. At Target Jamie decided we should decide what was for dinner (Mel had gone on a separate errand) so we spent a lot of time on that because he didn't know what he wanted--finally he made a sort of inside out cordon bleu, steamed squash (delicious and the girls love it) and a big salad. While we were in Target (another loooong time) it really stormed, and when we came out the sirens were blaring.

Somehow I made it just to my allotted 19 points on Weight Watchers in spite of  the sinfully large and delicious corned beef hash (homemade) that I ordered at a local cafe for lunch.

Last night was "movie night," so we watched "The Bride Wars" which was okay--Jamie and Mel laughed harder than the girls and it was eleven before I crawled into bed and finally finished the book I was reading. I still want to write about it but I want to talk to the author first. Meanwwhile Jamie left for a run/ride at seven, Edie and I both got up a little after eight but shes's used to being the first one up, so I caught up on my computer. 

Funny lines from my granddaughters:

When the Target clerk asked Jamie for i.d. so he could buy wine, I laughed that they've even asked me. Maddie assured me  I looked over twenty-one, and I told her what she must say is that I don't look 70 After swearing that I don't, she asked "Would you take 58?" I said definitely, so she said "How about 62?" I told her 58 was better.

Earlier Edie had asked me if I knew a long list of people, like her other grandparents, which of course I do. She ended by asking "Do you know God?" I told her in my heart I do.

An Outing Day

Jeannie and I had an outing day today. Left about 9:00 a.m. and went to renew my handicapped permit. Since we were already south of the highway, we decided to cut across country, which was fun and interesting, but I suspect we went in circles. Finally found the main highway and went on to Granbury, one of our favorite towns for shopping. Nothing, however, jumped out at either of us, and we saw a lot of stuff that would have just added more clutter to our houses, already cluttered enough. We marveled at how all those stores, with gimmicky stuff, stay in business in this economy. But then we came to a store with 70% off, called Rancho something, and in we went. Jeannie bought vases, baskets, and would have bought two wrought iron lamps but they were already sold. I bought one tiny basket for just under $3 because it reminded me of our friend, Jean. Then we went to the store owned by my longtime friend, Linda. Without prejudice, Almost Heaven is the classiest store on the square. And I found a bird feeder I couldn't do without--it was damaged, so I got a "deal" but later realized putting bird seed out on the porch was an invitation to squirrels and grackles and not the cute little birds I want to feed. We'll see.

We gathered up Linda, ate lunch in the tea room, and went to look at the house she and Rodger have remodeled. The core part was built in the late nineteenth century, and they have done a wonderful job of restoring it. It is absolutely charming, beautiful hardwoods, some woodwork stained dark to match a gorgeous sideboard treatment that is the focus of the dining area, a huge kitchen, and a great patio. The outside is painted a soft moss green, and the whole effect is charming.

Next stop: my brother's ranch in Tolar, about 15 minutes beyond Granbury. He and Cindy had their granddaughter, Emery, and it was a good chance for me to start to get to know her. The pictures above are, left to right, John and me, Jeannie and Linda, and Cindy and Emery. I not sure why Cindy looks so concerned, but I must point out that there are only two bottles of wine on the table because a bee flew into the first one and drowned. After a visit on the porch, we all got into the mule. (I'm spoiled and sat up front, squeezed between John and Cindy, who held Emery--we made the guests, Jeannie and Linda, sit in the back on cushions.) We went to feed the "moos," and had to count cattle forever to get the right number of mamas and babies. Cows all look alike to me, but John and Cindy recognize individuals--that's the one with the sick calf, and that's the gimpy one, and so on. Jeannie and Linda proved adept at jumping out to open and close gates while I, always the city child, sat in the cab. But it was there I got to know Emery, for Cindy kept telling her that I was Aunt Juju, and she finally reached out a tentative hand to explore my leg, my jacket, and, finally, my rings.

The only bad aspect of all this was that both Jeannie and I had started the day with what we thought were more severe allergies than usual. Mine went pretty much away by the time we got on the road and hers disappeared soon after, but mine came back in spades when we sat on the porch and then when we went to feed the cows. So tonight I look like Rudolph, with the reddest nose you've ever seen, and my throat is sore. I'm not sure if I have a cold or it's allergies, but I don't feel great and was sorry that I felt I put a pall on the day, which was truly a lovely day.

I came home thinking I didn't feel well enough to eat, but I reheated the leftover half twice-baked potato, put a small piece of salmon on the George Forman grill with soy, and made a salad of tomato, avocado, blue cheese, and lemon juice--and ate every bite. It was delicious, particularly the salmon. Maybe I'm not as pitiful as I think.

One more day of my mandatory leave, but I sure hope I feel better, as I have a busy first part of the day planned.