Upscale restaurants

I wear tennis shoes a lot and make no apologies. They're comfortable for my warped, aging feet--somehow the feet have gotten old before the rest of me. Tennis shoes also make me feel comfortable about my footing, which is sometimes a problem. But I do try to wear attractive, semi-designer tennis shoes--not just plain white dirty tenners. So today I was wearing brown plaid slip-on tenners, with brown pants and a brown turtleneck, brightened by a turquoise sweater vest and covered by an L. L. Bean coat that looks like London Fog. I went to an upscale restaurant where I had been invited for a longtime friend's birthday lunch. A sign of the door stopped me: something to the effect that guests were expected to dress appropriately for fine dining (I forget how it was worded), But it explicitly said no tank tops, t-shirts, sandals, or tennis shoes. Oh, oh! When I announced to the maitre d' that I was there for a birthday lunch, I swear he looked at my feet He raised his eyebrows and said "Really?" I knew the celebrant's name, but he didn't; I couldn't remember the host, but we finally decided it was Jeff. He immediately shunted me off into the bar area to wait--I presumed to hide my tennis shoes. I was early, they were late, and I spent a while reading. But at long last I saw a party come in and could see my friend Connie. But the maitre d' didn't come for me, so finally I went up to him and said I believed my party had arrived. Again, that surprised look. "Really?" I nodded in their direction, and he escorted me to my seat.
We actually had a delightful lunch--I was glad to be with Connie, who I only see from time to time since she's moved to a suburb, and to visit with her daughter from Denver who is a real delight. Jeff turned out to be most conversational and interesting, and I thoroughly enjoyed a long lazy lunch. But I kept my feet tucked under the table. I won't go back to that restaurant voluntarily. Actually I had a similar experiene there before--twice warned should be enough.
Our Texas world has completely thawed--I went to one grocery yesterday and another today. But in my mind I was stocking up for Wednesday when we're supposed to get socked again with a bit of ice and then quite a bit of snow over it. Temperatures the next day will go from 14 to 32, but by Saturday we'll be at 60 (if predictions come true). I'm hoping since all the children and grandchildren are coming home again for a party for my nephew, who will deploy to Iraq. I am so ready for spring!
Meanwhile I have lots of work to do if I'm housebound Wednesday, which I fully expect to be. I guess I'm getting to be a vetran at it.

Day Four--and more snow!

When I got up this morning about 5 a.m. to feed the persistent cat (no, I did not stay up!) I wondered why my neighbors white stucco house seemed to almost glow. Then I realized there was a white glow to the whole outdoors--yep., 4.5 inches of fresh snow on top of the ice we already had. Above is the view from my front door, looking down the street that sort of dead-ends into my house. I didn't venture beyond the front door and never did get a newspaper. What that new snow meant, of course, is that the snow, pretty as it was, covered up the ice, so you couldn't tell what you were walking on. Christian's proposed grocery trip for me disappeared, as did my date with Jacob tonight, so it's been another long day at home.  A bright spot in the day was another bit of neighborhly concern--I looked out to see the young teenager, maybe fourteen, from across the street shoveling my walk. I called my thanks and asked if I could pay him; he declined. The next time I looked, his mom was out there with him, throwing rock salt on the sidewalk. It is lovely to live in this neighborhood where people care about each other. Thanks to Atticus Johnson and his mom, Margaret, and to Meredith Latimer for visiting me yesterday at some peril to herself and her three-year-old--that icy driveway was difficult for a very pregnant young woman to navigate.

Don't get me wrong--I have plenty of work to do and spent a lot of today working on marketing my e-books. Pretty good success in following some complicated (to me) directions. Even found an almost-free picture for "The Art of Candle Dipping." The wax vat looks like one the pioneer housewife would have used--and sort of like the one in our Log Cabin Village where I got the story. But that housewife hand dipped candles one at a time, without a fancy rack like this. Still I think it's a good picture, and I sent it to a designer with about ten words of copy and the challenge to make it a vertical cover at least 600 pixels tall.
I also bought a round-trip plane tricket to El Paso. I'll go with Carol Roark for two days at the Texas State Historical Association meetings--never thought I'd go back to El Paso, having been there once thirty-some years ago. I was asked, sort of last minute, to write a paper on juvenile historical novels, filling in for someone who withdrew. My first response was that I'd be glad to do the paper but there was no way I was going to El Paso. A friend agreed to read it for me. I began to realize a lot of my friends will be there, and Carol said she wanted to go and share a room, so I began to think about it. Flying is a big deal for me, not something I do gracefully, nor do I walk into strange situations with ease. But I'm determined to widen the circle of my experience--and to gear myself up for a possible trip to Scotland with Colin and Megan. So this mini-trip is a practice run. I've been known to make arrangements before and cancel them, but I'm determined no to do that this time.
Meantime I set the table for nine tonight, which meant dragging out the leaves from under my bed--my goodness, were they dusty! And I got one I could not fit in--it had pegs on the wrong side everywhere I put it. I began to feel that I was working a Chinese puzzle. But I finally put it back and got out another one. I have four leaves in the table and a tablecloth meant for it to have five leaves (which won't fit in my dining room anyway). But the cloth drags at either end, and I shall undoubtedly trip on it and yank all the dishes off the table.
The menu? I'm still going through my cupboards and freezer, seeing what I can put together without going to the grocery--which would probably be okay tomorrow afternoon but not in time to cook for dinner. There will be three children, and I have cheese, hot dogs, clementines, and ice cream for them.  Should be an interesting evening--just hope all those four young men don't go away hungry. More tomorrow night.