A day in the life of ....

Wow! Today was a hectic, confusing, happy, noisy day with lots of fun and a problem. I spent the morning doing all those good things--watering plants, yoga, etc.--but since Colin, my oldest, didn't expect to arrive from Houston until noon I made German potato salad for tomorrow night and stuck it in the fridge. Just before noon, I pulled into Jordan's driveway--right behind Colin.
After a while Jamie arrived with Edie and we had a lovely time laughing and visiting, eating dips and tacos, and being the family that we are. But my nap was calling me, and I started to leave--until Jordan discovered a bubble on my passenger side front tire. She called Colin who said I could not even drive it home. So he, wonderful son that he is, took the spare to be aired up and then changed it, with help from his brother who arrived at just the right--or from his perspective, the wrong--time. I have great sons. Said my goodbyes once again and came home, caught up on a few details and crashed--slept soundly.
Tonight was Arts Goggle in Fairmount, and since I anticipated parking problems, Colin drove me. I was to sign books at State Representative Lon Burnam's office. With all the art displays and restaurants and attractions, I wondered how many people would go to a political office. Lon's wife, my good friend Carol, had put together an exhibit of historic photographs and had several books, not just mine, with authors present for signing. Oh, and food and wine. A steady stream of people filed through the office, and I sold enough books to make the evening worthwhile. In fact, Colin had to bring me more books. A successful evening.
I missed going to the trunk show at Urban Yoga where Elizabeth's friend from India, Uschi, had a display of the colorful tops she makes (I was wearing one tonight)--a big disappointment, but Elizabeth promised to bring some home for me to have my own private showing.
Now, everyone's gone except Colin and his six-year-old, Kegan, who are spending the night. Jacob is here tonight too to be with his cousin, and the three of them are watching a vampire movie. Such a joy to have at least one child and two grandchildren under my roof. Make me a happy camper. After this day, I'm tired but happy and counting my blessings.

The haircut makes the man, an apology, and a word about memoirs

My Australian shepherd, Scooby, got his summer haircut today. He was a shaggy mess, as the "before" picture illustrates. He's a rescue dog and was apparently abused in his early life, so a lot of things scare him--including being groomed. If I try to get those mats and that dead hair out of his rear end, he simply sits down. So my solution is this haircut, which I'm sure is more comfortable in the heat of a Texas summer. But tonight, he's acting a little weird, and I wonder if he feels exposed and naked. I never gave collies a haircut, when I had them, because I heard that those thick coats insulated them against the heat (hard to believe) and that their egos or psyches or whatever would be damaged. But Scoob has had a haircut every summer now for years (he's almost eleven), so he should be used to it.
Apologies to Colin--everyone that I talked to seems to have read the blog that he didn't call for Mother's Day. He called today and said all day yesterday he kept telling himself, "I've got to call Mom," but he didn't get it done. He says we're tit for tat because I didn't call him on his birthday. I can't believe that, because I always remember my kids birthdays and particularly his--he was born on the birthday of my younger sister who died at the age of six months. When I called my folks to say the adoption agency had placed a baby with us born April 22, the first thing Dad said was, "That's Jeannie's birthday." So humble apologies to Colin. He said my transgression was worse because I blogged about him, and I suggested he start a blog. "Nah, we'll just call it even."
My last memoir class at TCU today for the semester. Gosh, those ladies have interesting stories to tell--and a few shady characters lurk in some family trees. As one woman said, "Don't shake my family tree too hard--no telling what you'll get." Several of them seem headed to really exploring some aspects of their family and childhood, and if I've gotten them started in that direction, I'll feel it was a worthwhile course. I'll miss those Monday brown bag lunches with my tuna sandwich. HR may offer it again in the fall, but we have little carryover in that class, so I'll greet a whole new group of women. Whereas the evening class goes on from session to session with the same, oh-so-comfortable group. I'm finding these classes a rewarding part of my retirement.

Random Monday thoughts

NPR gives you great things to think about. This morning as I drove to work I heard Wallace Stegner's son discussing his father's writing habits--no idea what occasioned this discussion. But it seem Stegner wrote on a manual typewriter, never electric but the kind where you have to put real pressure on each key. It gave him time to think about what he was writing, carefully choose and craft his words and sentences--and the care shows in his writing of course. Then tonight, I read a blog by several mystery writers who were discussing funny typos--bowels for bowls in the kitchenware section, pubic for public, etc. Several of them said they make typos because their brains go faster than their fingers. So maybe there's really something to ponder in Stegner's method. Computers make it easy to be quick and glib, to almost write without thinking. Some will say that's letting your creative self go and following where it leads you, sort of like the tried and true theory about letting your characters tell you what they are going to do. All I know is I write too fast--but I rewrite and rewrite, over and over. No, I"m not about to go back to a manual typewriter. I remember those days when if you edited, you had to retype the whole darn book.
Then in a e-mail newsletter this morning, my friend and yoga instructor Elizabeth said she had been interviewing people about whether or not they thought they had courage and just what courage is. A littlel put out that she hadn't asked me, I wrote back that my first instinct was to say I have zip courage, none, not at all, because I am afraid of so many things--elevators, escalators, airplanes if I'm alone, losing my balance, etc. But then I decided maybe I do have courage because I make myself do a lot of the things that bother me. And, I suggested, maybe it took courage to raise four kids by myself. Elizabeth kindly replied she had always thought I had courage--among other things in running TCU Press. Thinking about yourself in terms of courage or lack thereof is an interesting exercise--I suspect men are more likely to say, "Of course, I have courage." But I know a lot that don't.
Jamie came over today to bring me the TV he got me for Christmas--it's to go in the bathroom, but even with an antenna, it gets poor reception, so the bathroom will have to be wired to AT&T U-Verse, like the other TVs in the house. Two installers told me it was impossible but Jamie could easily see a way to do it. Then he noticed the installation in the kitchen and went indignant--the installer tried to come down through the wall and left a 3-inch hole in the plaster--but the cross beams in an old house stymied him, so he put a plastic plate over the hole (it doesn't cover all the scraped paint and you can pull it off with two fingers-- some mouse might just push through it some night!). So now the wire comes into the dining room, snakes along the floor and around the corner into the kitchen, and then is clipped up the wall (with clips that pull right out--stay away, Jacob!), across the counter and makes a big loop under a cabinet. It is unsightly, but I had decided I just had to live with it--TV reception is great. No way. Jamie called U-Verse, told them he was calling for his mom (his exact words made me laugh--"She's not old but she's not the type to complain"). He must have spent 20 minutes on the phone (while we both practiced yoga--he's a lot better than I am). Then I talked to the supervisor of the hour who was most apologetic. They will file a damage claim for the wall and send yet another installer (I think I've had four so far) to do it right. And at that time I'll ask again about the bathroom. The man I talked to almost fell all over himself apologizing and thanking me for my patience and finally said something to the effect of it being really great to see a son stand up for his mom. I agreed. We'll see what happens.