An Almost Perfect Day

Not too long ago, I was a guest on a blog where one of the questions asked me to describe my perfect day. I did, and today was almost that perfect day. It was cloudy but no rain, warm but not oppressive--the kind of day that makes me content to stay in. And that's what I did--fiddled with email, Facebook, etc., and then did my yoga. Completed a questionnaire for yet another guest blog, and began reading a book for review. Had an early lunch--half a BLT that was delicious. My mom taught me to be generous with mayonnaise and to pepper the tomato--no salt because the bacon is salty. It was so good I wished I'd made a whole sandwich, but I'm trying to watch my caloric intake.
An early and nice nap, and then I picked up Jacob. The only homework he had was to practice his spelling--not his best day but I hold out hope that tomorrow will be better.
This evening, I had supper with neighbors at the Old Neighborhood Grill. I always look forward to Tuesday night because the neighbors gather and it's meatloaf night. I meant to eat half the meatloaf and bring the other half home for a sandwich, but I ate the whole thing and bought a separate plain slice to bring home. Two sandwiches!
My day was marred by the hospitalization of my oldest son. He went in for a diagnostic procedure this morning and ended up with complications of that and his chronic disease that will probably keep him in the hospital for three days. He is not a happy camper, but he finally knows to take care of his health and follow doctor's orders--I think it took the first forty years of his life for him to learn that. Naturally I'm worried, and so are his siblings, but I'm assured he's in good hands--Memorial Hermann hospital in Houston--and his wife sounds upbeat, saying he's getting the best of care. This afternoon Jordan and I had worry hour instead of happy hour but we had some wine and kind of mulled things over. She said she wished we could go to Houston, an idea my brother nixed saying, "What would you do?" My reply, "Worry there instead of here." He said, "You got it, and you'd be more work for Lisa." So I'm at home worrying.
Otherwise though it was my perfect day--at home working and doing my yoga, early lunch, nap, afternoon with Jacob, and dinner out with friends. Who could ask for a better life?

Mercury in retrograde, bad moon--and all that gone

This week has been really difficult with Jacob and homework--we knew it would be hard to get him to re-adjust after DisneyWorld and a weekend with his cousins, but I had no idea how hard! Yesterday was the final straw--he "tricked" me about his homework, pouted his way through spelling, demanded I not watch him. It went from bad to worse, and I'm ashamed that I lost my patience. Then when his dad seemed to be running late I told him to put on his hapkido clothes, and he threw a tantrum, threw things on the floor, was rude to me when I tried to help him. He did not, he emphasized, want to go to hapkido. He was too tired. I will say when Aunt Betty arrived, he brightened within two minutes and began telling her all about how wonderful DisneyWorld was. But clearly, this was not the way either one of us wanted to spend our aftrnoons, and I was left in a bad mood--to say the least.
Then Elizabeth, my garage dweller and yoga guru, posted something about doing moon salutations because of the bad moon. When I queried her today it seems the bad moon was with us for a month but now is gone--gosh, I'm glad I didn't know that for the whole month. And I'm still not sure what a "bad" moon is. I also read that Mercury has been in retrograde. I don't think you can effectively Google "bad moon," but I did Google Mercury in retrograde, and it seems that Mercury has been going backward, not forward, from Nov. 6-26. According to the source I read, it's a time when your plans go awry but also a time of strong intuition and high coincidences.
Did any of that account for my Jacob difficulties this week? Not sure. But today he told me his dad had talked to him and said if he was ugly to me any more, he'd begin to lose Christmas presents--now there's a realistic approach. I talked to him and worked out some guidelines--no "tricking" about homework, because homework is serious business; when I am helping him, he cannot hide his work from me; when we're doing a pre-test, he may set up a carel like they have at test time at school. Result? Today we did the homework easily, with laughter and smiles. Copied his spelling list, putting consonants in one color and vowels in another--and he did it without any guidance from me. Then we did the pre-test, and he got them all right!
It may not have been Mercury in retrograde--today I fed him a huge banana and a great glob of peanut butter which he happily ate with a fork (the way he requested it--sounds awful to me). He eats lunch at 10:30, so I'm sure he's starving at 3:00 and he didn't eat his usual peanut butter the last couple of days. So low blood sugar may well have been as instrumental as Mercury or that bad moon.
But I'm glad Mercury is no longer in retrograde (I like using that phrase now that I know what it means) and the bad moon is gone. I expect good things from December.

Some good, some not so good

All those errands I worried about yesterday got done today in a timely fashion--which shows me what happens when I sit back and stop being compulsive, controlling, whatever. That message came through again loud and clear when I had lunch with Fred, my lifelong reader and advisor (he does not like the term mentor though that's what he is). I told him I was rethinking my career, and he agreed that since I have no immediately pressing deadlines, it's a good time to sit back, pull away and consider. I mentioned a possible new project I was interested in, and he did not throw up his arms in alarm. Instead he said, "You've had that on your mind a long time. This may be the time to do it." He also took my latest Kelly O'Connell manuscript for a beta read, so I'm not even going to think about it until he returns it to me. So that part of my day was good, and I came home ready to pull back, do some serious study and considering on some things that intrigue me, and read some of those marketing books I've been meaning to read forever. Basically, I'm going to try to keep myself from feeling so pressured.
The less good part of my day wasn't that bad after all. Jordan and Jacob (and Christian, though I didn't see him this afternoon) left today for Coppell and will fly to DisneyWorld tomorrow. Jacob is excited out of his skull, and I'm delighted for him. I hope it turns out to be every bit as wonderful as he wants it to be. Our difficulties of yesterday weren't repeated after school today--I secretly threw out the blasted sugar-laden donuts and rejoiced that Hostess would stop producing such atrocities--though I grieve for 18,000 people out of work.
But I think the green-eyed monster has bitten me, or at least nipped. I was feeling bad all day that Jacob's other grandparents are now the literal incarnation of Disneyland grandparents. They have taken him to the State Fair, Legoland, movies, and all kinds of places, so this is kind of the penultimate. I don't do that for several reasons--I'd need another adult to go with me (a lot of things are harder and less enjoyable when you're alone with a young child), I can't afford most of it, and such places as DisneyWorld and the State Fair have no appeal for me--at all! In fact, I think I'd be fairly miserable. But I am left feeling like the grandparent who instead of offering great excitement says "No,  you can't go out to play. You have to do your reading and spelling." Jordan assures me this is a figment of my imagination...and I suppose it is. I really hope they have a good time.
Meantime after they left I decided to float through the weekend. I did my yoga slowly (can you hear Elizabeth applauding?) instead of always feeling that I had to get it done to move on to somethng else. Then I did some kitchen chores, watched the news, and made myself pea salad and salmon croquettes--yum!--for dinner. Tonight I've caught up on emailing friends, and I'm about to read a book about how to grow your audience (I hate that use of the word grow, but the book is pretty helpful!).
It will be a good weekend. I hope yours is too.

Yoga in two parts

Yesterdy morning I did about half my yoga routine and had to stop, for reasons totally unrelated to yoga. I finally finished the routine about six last night, and I'm wondering if a divided routine does you as much good as a complete one. But that's sort of how my week has gone.
Monday is usually my stay-at-home-and-get-lots-done day, but this Monday I was out the door early to transfer Scooby to his own vet--not only did it take a chunk of time, it set a less-than-efficient tone for my day. Scooby is still dozing and snoozing--eating, drinking, peeing and pooping but he has to be carried to the appropriate place for the last two, although he does stand to do them. No way I can carry a 55 lb. dog up and down even the two stairs to the backyard. I went to see him last night, and he struggled to get up for me, so maybe visiting is not a good idea, though I did stay and love on him. They say sometimes it takes a week for the disorientation to go away--much as I love Scooby, dollar signs are swimming in my brain.
Then Tuesday and Wednesday were routine doctor appointments for me (if you can ever call having your eyes dilated routine!). Both were just checkups, but they broke the rhythm of my days.
And then there were pleasant dinners with friends, occasions I wouldn't miss though once again they took me from my computer. I'm not sure I can justify calling myself a writer.
Finally yesterday I got to stay home all afternoon and evening at my desk--editing someone else's manuscript. Years ago when I started editing, I marked up hard copy, sent it to the author, whose responsibility it was to create a new manuscript incorporating my suggestions and return it. I had to compare the two versions, make sure no new errors crept in next to the corrections--that happened a lot. Well, today we have "Track Changes" which makes it so much easier--and so much harder. I am forever getting tangled up in that program--deleting things I don't mean to, creating little blue "fix this" lines that are unfixable as far as I can tell. This time, somehow I lost all the formatting on the manuscript. Fortunately the managing editor of Turquoise Morning Pres is a lot smarter than I am and could tell me what to do. Now, I hope, I'm on the home stretch--and a bonus: I've learned to make marginal comments.
I'm itching to finish this manuscript--but first there's the post office, the bank, the cleaners, early voting, and lunch with a friend. Sigh. But I've done my yoga.
I'm a writer--honest, I am!

Happy Fourth of July

I couldn't get a good picture of the flag at the foot of my driveway--not enough breeze--so this clip-art will have to do. It's about as celebratory as I got today. Even forgot--or got so wrapped up in what I was doing--to go out on the front porch and see the neighborhood parade head for the school across the street. But it's been a good lazy day--cleaned my desk of all sorts of odds and ends, wrote a book review blog I promised someone (the book was William Marsh Rice and His Institute, meaning Rice University--great story; he was murdered!),  filed some papers, whittled my "to do" pile down and cleared out the cooking magazines. All this is a way of saying I avoided work on the novel in progress.
Also got a nap and did my yoga routine. If you read yesterday's blog, you may remember I mentioned, cryptically, the piriformis muscle. My right hip has been sore off and on, especially in going up steps, althoiugh it's much better lately. But my yoga/wellness guru thinks it may be the piriformis muscle (a small muscle behind the gluts) and has given me exercies to strengthen and stretch it. So far, no hip pain.
Capped the day off with dinner with Sue, my former neighbor who calls me her Fort Worth mom. We headed for one spot but it was closed--a place I'd never been and was curious to try. Driving down Magnolia was like driving down a ghost street--eveything was closed. We came to one restaurant that was open--in a location I'd been to before in previous incarnations. I didn't even get the name this time, but it was Mexican, and I had great ground sirloin tacos, filled with fine fresh vegetables and a bit of cheese. Sue had paella which she said was good but oh so rich. We talked--and argued, as we always do. I said something about the difference between Bush and Obama, and she said, in her own forthrigt manner, "I think that's complete bullshit!" We have fun because, with a generation between us, we are a lot alike but oh so different--she's a lot tougher than I am. She says it's because she works for lawyers. I think it's just a personality difference. But tonight was lots of fun.
Rat race the rest of the week.

Yoga and writing

Yesterday I woke up in a funk. The prospect of lunch with one good friend and supper with two others didn't jolt me out of my blues. It took me a while--and a yoga session--to figure out what was bothering me. The novel I'm working on wasn't going well; in fact it wasn't going. I'd been reading a wonderful mystery mentioned in a previous blog--Mr. Churchill's Secretary. I got so thoroughly engrossed in it that it's been hard for me to start another novel, though my iPad is loaded with two new ones by authors whose work I usually enjoy. What set Mr. Churchill's Secretary apart was partly the significance of the backdrop--Hitler's march across Europe, the Luftwaffe bombings of London. But more than that, it was the unexpected. No one was who you thought they were, and good guys turned out to be villains, and those you had pegged as villains were good guys--or at least had a soft streak. My novel, on the other hand, was predictable--at least in my mind.
I figured all this out while stretching and pushing and doing all those yoga things--and counting to ten seconds for many poses. But I truly went back to work with renewed enthusiasm and have since written about 3500 words--okay, I know some authors write ten hours and 10,000 words a day--not me. But I finally feel that I'm headed in a better direction, and that's exciting.
I have enjoyed my social life--lunch with Melinda who, apart from having been my favorite employee at TCU Press, remains a good friend now that I'm not at the press; supper with Carol and Kathie, two book cronies I've known for years. We share each others triumphs, tragedies, and small concerns. Today I had lunch with several members of a book group I've spoken to three times--discovered one of them is a "field editor" for a cooking magazine--right up my alley, and I may have more to say about her later. But she gave me sample copies of Taste of Home and I had fun learing through them this afternoon. My favorite find: strawberries stuffied with a mix of cream cheese and blue cheese, and topped with a bit of balsamic vinaigrette (I'd leave out the chopped pecans). Would that be salad or dessert? It was a real boost to my ego to hear these ladies say again how much they liked my books, and one had read one of my historical novels and ordered another.
An aside; we deliberatel went to the Frank Kent Honda dealership for lunch. Good friend David Rotman who used to own Cafe Aspen now works there, and they asked him to spiff up their food service for customers and employees. He's brought some of the old Aspen recipes, and you can have a great lunch in the attractive chrome setting of a new car dealership. David wasn't there today, but we had a good lunch and good time. One salesman told us lunch was free if we bought a car; he told one of the other ladies if she paid his price for lunch, she'd get a free car.
Tonight was neighbors' night at the Old Neighborhood Grill and I had my meatloaf fix--the cashier looks at me and asks, "The usual?" When I nod, she pours a generous glass of Kendall Jackson chardonnay and orders up a piece of meat loaf and a side of green beans. I don't know--is it good to be that predictable? As we were leaving, one neighbor asked, "Are you going home to write?" I said I was, and she said, "Good. I need another mystery to read."
So all in all, writing is looking pretty good to me--and when I reread what I had done on that novel, it really wasn't all that bad. I think I'll run it by my mentor/beta reader/whatever next week and maybe get a critique partner through Sisters in Crime's Guppy program. Funk gone at least for now. Oh, and I've done my yoga faithfully. I think it helps both mind and body--and that funky right hip that's been bothering me.

This, that, and a gullywasher

Cousins are your first and best friends forever!

For the second night in a row, the gods were bowling in the wee hours of the morning. Then came sheets of rain. About seven it cleared but remained dark, and just in time for the school rush across the street the heavens opened again. Jordan called for a big umbrella and I put it out; then she called wonderig what to do about her feet--she didnt want to spend the day with wet feet. She finally did what was for us a first: she let him out right by the door next to his classroom. Always the anxious grandmother, I asked if we should call and be sure he was in class. "Mom, I watched him go in the door, and then I watched to be sure no one carried him out." I suppose child-snatchers weren't out in the storm anyway.

This afternoon was my last day to pick Jacob up, and he's staying late, so I decided I had to do my yoga with him here. He suggested I do it in the front room so as not to disturb his TVwatching; I suggested he watch TV in my office so as not to disturb my yoga. That didn't please him, so he watched me do my yoga, imitated me some. When I was in the meditation phase at the end, he demanded, "Juju, are you doing yoga or are you just sleeping?" I'm going to miss him in the afternoons. Then again, maybe I won't have to watch any more Bigfoot videos.

I've been too social this week--Monday night playing catch-up from a weekend away, Tuesday night dinner with the neighbors at the Grill--a chunk out of the evening; Wed. night dinner with friends at a wine cafe--a bigger chunk out of the evening and my wallet both. Tonight I'm staying home, eating a BLT, and working. Was all ready to start tht next Kelly O'Connell novel, but I got final proofs for the third one today. Sigh. The weekend doesn't offer lots of work time. I imagine I'll be running errands, etc.

Retirement sure is fun!

At Loose Ends

Yesterday, I handed over my latest mystery to Fred, my beta reader/most honest critic/mentor (he doesn't like that last term) when we had lunch at Carshon's. Today I mailed my tax information to the accountant. Whew! Two big things off my desk, but I'm now "between projects"--you know how some people rationalize that they are "between jobs"? Not that I don't have work to do--it's just hard, even for compulsive me, to jump right from one biggie to the next. And with a couple of weekend events looming on my mind, I think I'll take a break.
I don't take a break gracefully. Yesterday I putzed--read, explored Pinterest on the web (something I'd avoided), almost got deperate enough to polish silver or something equally unlike me.  I read a book, but it wasn't one I particularly enjoyed--tonight I'm going to stick with it. Sometimes they get better.
I've shopped and made lists for the event I'm hosting this weekend, so can't count on that to help, though tonight I did get out serving dishes, kind of eyeballing what would go in what. I often put notes in the dishes, but today I piled them on the sideboard so Socorro could polish the table when she comes to clean tomorrow. And I'm at the point of noticing little things that need to be straightened or put out of sight--the unhung picture leaning against the dining room wall, the dog medicine, an extra table leaf sticking out awkwardly from under my bed (needed to be moved anyway because I keep stubbing my toe on it). Jordan will come early Sunday and whiz through the house spotting a hundred other things and lighting candles everywhere. She's terrific at that. She's going to be my party angel and emailed today to ask if I had an outfit for her--if I'd thought ahead, I'd have had the black dress (short of course) with white cap and organdy ruffled apron. Darn!
Today, I went through my bulging file titled "Entries Not Tried" looking for something to serve company in a week and a half (now that's desperate), but the good I did was to be hard-hearted about looking at recipes and saying to myself, "That sounds good but I'll never cook it." Discarded about a third of the recipes. Also found about fifteen recipes that belonged in other folders in my appalling collection. I love to sort recipes when I'm planning to entertain--I pull out maybe ten choices, then go through those again and again, gradually narrowing it down. Tonight I have made my choice--not telling as it would ruin the surprise for the dinner guests. And besides, I've got a week and a half to change my mind. I almost always cook something I've never tried before for guests--part of the adventure. I once knew a woman who had her cook try out the entire menu twice before any dinner party. Not me--I just rush right in.
Yoga is not part of my puttering. I try to do it everyday, but today the only way I could work it in was to have an audience. I do my yoga in the room that Jacob considers his own, where he watches TV and sleeps. He didn't want to be budged; my explanations that yoga required silence and concentration fell on almost-deaf ears but finally he said he just wanted to lie on the bed, watch, and maybe fall asleep. He was pretty good--muted the TV and only talked to me three or four times. Once when I was doing a seated pose, with him supposedly on the bed behind me, I felt these gentle little arms around me. When I said, "Jacob, get back up on the bed," he said, "I was helping you, Juju." He wanted to try some poses after I finished, and of course at five he can stand on one foot a lot better than I can. "It's because I'm young," he said phlosophically.
I almost replied, "Well, I can entertain thirty people, and it's because I'm old and have had lots of experience." But I just hugged sweet boy.

Reading galleys and switching gears

Yesterday I determined to devote myself to finishing the galleys I started reading over the rather tumultous weekend. I cleared the desk of everything else, after doing homework with Jacob. He spent the rest of the afternoon like a lamb watching TV. So after I fed us--salads for me and a hot dog for him--I settled down to work, thinking he'd stay in front of the TV till his father came. No such luck.
He came cheerily into the office, told me to close what I was doing and go to ninjago.com (I checked later and it is a real site) because they were going to send him a package. As an afterthought, he added that they would be sending me diamond earrings with ninjas hanging from them--just my style! I explained I had to finish what I was doing. "Well, when you're finished." I explained he'd be home asleep when I finished, and he asked, "And you won't be asleep?" He chattered and chattered, and when I gently asked if he didn't want to go to the playroom and watch TV, he said, "No, I want  you to have company." Thank you, sweet Jacob. We compromised. He watched the Disney channel in my office, and I tuned it out.
Finished reading the galleys, compiled my corrections, and sent them off. About noon they came back. I had understood that the editor would correct in Word and the executive editor would create a new pdf. Besides, I couldn't tell page numbers on the pdf. I framed my corrections so that using the find button would be easy--I thought. No, they need corrections by page and line. I whined, I blamed, I behaved badly (okay, it's been a bad week or last week was bad ending with my family's weekend trauma.) I called Melinda at TCU Press to ask how to tell page numbers (after embarrasing myself with my editors) and before I even got the question out I saw the page numbers across the top. Worked out a system to translate the corrections I'd found so I didn't have to read the whole galley over--was actually pretty proud of myself about that. I'd use Word to search for context, and then find the passage in the pdf. By now I know the manuscript by heart. After a solid afternoon of work, with time out for Jacob and the dogs and a visit with Jacob's mother, I finished and have sent the new version off with great relief.
Now to start over with the manuscript I was revising before all this happened. I had gone through five chapters, but I've lost the thread. It is not part of the Kelly O'Connell series but a possible first entry in a new series--or a stand-alone. So I have to leave one fictional world and immerse myself in another. Not sure I'll tackle that tonight. Tomorrow looked like a long empty day where I could do that--until I speak to a book group in the evening--but a call from the audiology office reminded me of a nine o'clock appointment. Life gets in the way a lot. Thursday will be grocery shopping and Friday, haircut and a quick stop at Central Market to prepare for the arrival of part of my family this weekend. Trouble is I don't know which part and how many and what to buy. Yikes!
A note on yoga: I've been back at it, almost daily, since the first of the year and was pleased this morning at how much stronger I am. That means my muscles don't quiver as much during some poses, like down dog or warrior, and instead of ten, I did fifteen mini-push-ups today. My puzzlement: does a yoga workout do you as much good if you have to stop and answer the phone three times?
Off to dinner with neighbors at the Neighborhood Grill--it's meatloaf night. Hurray!

Yoga--and me

Ten or more years ago a friend and I took a yoga class at TCU. Maybe 10-15 people in a big, bare room with one mirrored wall. I think it was the mirrors that did me in--even ten years ago I saw that when I leaned over, some things--like my face--didn't stay in place but sagged. Demoralizing. And I didn't particularly like anything about the class, could never stand the relaxation at the end. So I quit, and when all about me were raving about yoga, I resisted. It wasn't for me. I walked for exercise.
Several things happened to change that: both my daughter-in-law Melanie and my good friend Elizabeth began to study yoga and today they are both certified instructors. And I realized that I was no longer sure-footed and didn't have the self-confidence for my daily walk that I once had. It took a while but one day I announced to Elizabeth that I was ready for lessons. She, bless her, didn't gloat, just set up a businesslike arrangement for lessons at my home. I had to convince her I didn't want candles or mood music with the lesson, but gradually I mastered some poses and semi-learned the relaxation/meditaton at the end--the first time I tried that, Elizabeth said indignantly, "You're reading the titles in the bookcase, aren't you?" Relaxation has never been easy for me, but I got to where I did a half-hour workout and began alternating--yoga one day, indoor recumbent bike the next.
I was pretty faithful until I got Sophie last July, then a twelve-week old energetic Bordoodle (half Border Collie, half poodle) pup. Taking care of her wore me out and gave me plenty of exercise. I quit doing anything else. And once you quit, it's hard to return. I did some yoga sporadically but my muscles soon lost the pattern and my conscience kept nagging at me.
Like many people I made some 2012 resolutions, a return to yoga among them. I find I approach it far differently now--for one thing, since retiring two years ago, I am a much more relaxed person and the relaxation part is easier for me--it always turns into prayer (eyes closed, no reading titles) but I do a survey of my muscles, relaxing them body part by body part, and I try to clear my mind of anxiety, negative thoughts and the like. I am also much more focused on my breathing, so that I approach yoga poses with more concentration than I did before I see all this as part of real growth--physical improvement yes, but emotional or spiritual growth.
And my two role models? They're both so busy teaching--and Melanie has an  unrelated day job--that they complain they don't have time for their workouts!
My resolutions also included watching my weight go down, not up. I have a friend who says he lost 17 lbs. by portion control and omitting bread. That's what I'm trying, and I've lost two lbs. I figure slow and steady does it.

Exercise--do you have a regular schedule?

For some time, at least a couple of years, I either did my yoga routine at home or rode my stationery bike. But all that changed with the puppy--I had to be out in the yard with her because she was too little to leave alone, I was housebreaking her, which meant a lot of cleaning up and going back and forth. The first week was like having a newborn in the house--I was exhausted. She gradually got better, though she's got a long way to go before she's a "grown-up" dog. But the demands on my time aren't as great. There is also the Jacob factor--he is often here in the late afternoon when I would normally do my yoga. If I have no errands, I can do it in the morning when the dogs are out, but such days are fairly rare. Result: no exercise. I did my yoga two or three times, sporadically, and worried about not exercising. I rationalized that I'm active, out in the world running errands, eating lunch, etc., cooking at home, and so on. But I knew it wasn't active enough. And Sophie? She has too much energy, so at night when I want to work at my computer, she pesters me.
This morning I sat on the back steps and threw a tennis ball for Sophie, intending to play fetch. She doesn't fetch well--gets hold of the ball and runs in mad circles around the yard, then ventures close to me, growling. When I reach out to pretend to take the ball, she's off in mad circles again. She got lots of exercise and finally quit, winded; I got no exercise, but Scooby got lots of love.
Jordan developed an exercise plan. When she came over today to get Jacob, she would walk Sophie. I suggested we all go. We couldn't get the gentle leader on Sophie and Jordan was impatient to go, so we settled for the regular leash. I didn't even make it from the porch steps to the sidewalk before I gave Sophie to Jordan--I simply do not want to be pulled down and break a hip. So Jordan walked her mother, her son, and her mother's dog. Actually they were all about ten feet ahead of me the entire way, with Sophie pulling on the leash constantly. Once around our double block, part of which is uphill, and I retired from the field. I found as I had in Scotland that uphill is hard for me. Jordan, Jacob and Sophie ran around the block the second time.
They left about five, and I had dinner plans at seven--two hours with no specific chores. I did my yoga routine, and it felt good. So I hope I'm on a new track. I know I won't work something in every day. Tomorrow, I have errands in the morning, a lunch date, Jacob in the afternoon, and a dinner date. But there are many days I could do the yoga, and when Jordan can walk, I will too. Her plan is to walk once with me, run once with Jacob, and then run once by herself, taking Sophie on all three trips.
Sophie is sleeping peacefully in my office, and I expect to sleep well tonight. I hope I'm not like the new convert who gets religion for three months, but as I sit in peace at my desk, I see the benefits of exercise.

Strenuous days, a five-year-old boy, and a rough dinner

I haven't been exercising lately because I had this puppy to care for, a full-time job that gave me plenty of exercise. But more and more she's getting self-sufficient. And I'm gaining weight and feeling the need (guilt?) to exercise. So today I did my yoga routine for the first time in two months. Not as bad as I expected--my muscles seemed to remember what they were supposed to do. Granted, I'm a little less flexible--not that I was ever very flexible--and my muscles quiver more in some exercises. But on the whole, I didn't do badly. I went from that to Sophie's first training session, which proved to be less hard on my body than on my nerves. I worried a great deal about being pulled down between the car and PetSmart, but I managed to control her efforts to run to every person she saw and we made it inside. Lesson was very valuable, from how to use treats to vocabulary. Sophie is, I think, part way through what she should have learned in this first lesson--for instance, she knows "sit" and "down" and I learned a super new technique for dealing with her jumping on me.
Jacob arrived shortly after I finished a hasty lunch--he was not in sympathy with my almost desperate need for a late afternoon nap. Woke me up to "love" on me and for several other reasons.  Finally he kissed me and said have a good nap. When I woke up it was almost six and suspiciously quiet from Jacob's playroom--he was sound asleep. I fed the dogs, started dinner, and then wakened him gently by scratching his back. He never wakes up from naps in a good mood but his bad, whiny mood took a while. Then he began to whine because I'd promised a picnic and it looked like rain; I suggested the porch; he cried and wanted his daddy. Finally he decided on the porch, and we carried our dinners out there, only to have him declare it was too windy. Back inside, where he spilled his dinner on the living room rug. Then he wanted to go back outside--carried our food back outside. Then he was sure there was a tornado coming, and we had to go inside. Long story not very short: I had a cold ground beef patty, salad was okay, he had 1-1/2 chicken nuggets, declared he couldn't eat the corn, and finished his meal with chocolate-covered raisins--half good half bad is my grandmotherly rationale.
Rain is in the air, praise be, and Jacob is obssessed with tornadoes, telling me about the ones he's experienced--yeah, sure--and predicting them outside. We have the weather channel on but it's hard for him to distinguish between videos of past tornados and anything happening here and now. He keeps wanting to go to the bathroom to hide but I have refused.
Writing the great American novel? What's that? I may get to read the John Grisham novel that I'm having a hard time with. My colleague Fred tells me it has a section about an inapropriate develpment project, relevant to my work-in-progress, but I haven't come to it yet and am finding, as I have before, that Grisham just doesn't captivate me. This one is The Last Juror.
In sum, a grandmotherly Saturday. Were my kids like this?
Most of the rest of my family is in Austin for a race of some sort--I can't sort out if it's an ironman or a muddy whatever, but I'm a bit sad not to be with them.

Resolutions

Resolutions seem to be made to be broken, so right off the bat I'm going to break one. A few weeks ago I vowed never to mention Weight Watchers again on this blog, but I'm so proud of myself that I have to break that vow. I lost 1.7 lbs. over Christmas week! Not that there wasn't temptation aplenty--Lisa made Norwegian hamburgers and sausage quiche, potato casserole and tortilla soup, chicken parmigiano and other delicacies. But I worked around it--I could have eaten three helpings of each but I settled for one modest helping (okay, I cheated on that darn potato casserole--it's so good and has everything bad in it from butter and cheese to sour cream and cream of chicken soup plus, of course, the potatoes and a buttery corn flake topping). But whereas Colin put his chicken parmagiano over noodles and doused it with pasta sauce, I had mine plain without noodles. (Jacob told Aunt Lisa it was the best chicken ever). So, yes, I'm bragging. And today I spent a small fortune at Central Market stocking up on fruit, lean lunch meat, yogurt, low-fat cottage cheese, etc. A New Year's resolution I hope to keep: lose 8-10 lbs.
And toward that goal, I did my first yoga tonight in almost a month. I quit when I had those painful displaced ribs, but I went back to it tonight and was pleased at how smoothly my routine came back to me and how well my muscles performed. The only pose that was really difficult was down dog--and it sort of is all the time.
I just blew all those resolutions and went with friends and neighbors to a new place called Hot-tubs Grotto. They thought it was  a beer joint and ate before we went but I knew better and had delicious Kobe beef sliders--plus too much chardonnay. But we talked, laughed, and had a good time  The chef is the son of my friend Rodger Preston and the stepson of my longtime good friend Linda--he came out to greet us. In fact, everyone in the place was friendly. It's a good place to put on the "go back" list.
Now it's late and all those deep thoughts I meant to share about writing and such stuff have flown. Maybe tomorrow . . . and maybe not, since Jacob and I will be ringing in the new year

The world's biggest chicken casserole

Sunday night I'm hosting a Bookish Frog (supporters of TCU Press) pot-luck to celebrate Grace & Gumption: The Cookbook. Contributors are to bring dishes made from recipes in their chapters, so we might have some interesting food. Really too bad Joyce Williams, who wrote about pioneer women, is in Switzerland celebrating her 50th wedding anniversary--I did so want stewed squirrel. I chose a chicken/spaghetti casserole that has everything but the kitchen sink.The recipe is from a Women's Club cookbook or some such years ago, so old that it calls for a No. 2 can of tomatoes. I had to Google that to find out how much and then I sort of guessed. Remember when that was how cans were measured? It made no sense.
Since my weekend is busy, I stewed the chicken last night and boned it; then this morning I put the whole thing together, except for the mushrooms and oregano which I forgot. I can do those on Sunday. But this recipe has everything: spaghetti, canned tomatoes, tomato paste, one large hen, onions, celery, chicken broth (after you boil the spaghetti in it), mushrooms, hard-boiled eggs (I couldn't do it--I diced up the whties but I threw the yolks away), and grated cheese. I was going to put the cheese on top, but  I decided the casserole probably needs it as a kind of binding/sauce agent. What I've got now, before the mushrooms, completely fills my large Dutch oven. No wonder it cooks for an hour and a half! Note: it called for canned mushrooms, which you then sauteed. Come again? I bought fresh mushrooms, will probably saute then tonight while watching Jacob.
Had lunch with an old friend today who really wanted a Reuben, so of course I took her to Carshon's. I gently asked if she wanted a whole sandwich, and she said no, probably a half. They don't do half orders on special sandwiches, so sacrificing good friend that I am, I offered to split it, though I did order so we got corned beef instead of pastrami and toasted instead of grilled. Honestly, how bad can half a Reuben be? Don't answer that. I got on the scales after lunch, and it wasn't good. But oh my that sandwich was delicious.
Jacob is here tonight. When he was a baby, someone sent a flower arrangement with a mid-sized stuffed frog. Somewhere along the way, he latched on to Froggie and became inseparable. Jordan has been back to that florist to order a whole stash of replacement Froggies. But tonight Jacob came to me in tears--he'd left Froggie in his mom's car. I was going to take him and go get it, but she said that wouldn't work because he'd see her company and want to come in. So Froggie mysteriously appeared on my porch a bit ago. Kids and their attachments are funny--Jordan had a quilted small blanket someone made for her, and I had to restuff it three times. I think it's still in the attic.
Busy weekend. I think I wear myself out planning how to handle such times. Yoga doesn't seem to help me relax and let it all flow, especially when a poor pitiful little kid, maybe six at best, interrupts by ringing the doorbell and saying "We need money for a walk-a-thon." He kept looking around like maybe his parents would come rescue him. I hate it when parents do that to their children! I just settled back down to finish my routine, got to the relaxation part, and Jacob and Jordan arrived earlier than she had predicted. But I'm still trying to go with the flow. And lots of advance planning.

Yoga, cooking to nostalgic music, and back to school

My recumbent exercise bike is off its course. I finally reset all the settings--time, distance, etc.--but when I peddle it shoots up to the highest resistance, way beyond my capabilities. I've called the company, and they said I need to check the voltage, so I'm waiting for some kind soul with a voltimeter (is that the word?) to come along. Meantime, every day for over a week, I've been doing yoga, and I'm glad to be back at it, finding myself more confident about my yoga--and, interestingly, more confident in life. I don't know if it's the yoga or the meditationa afterward (which turns into prayer for me). But I frequently wake up a bit depressed and have to get going before, as one friend said, I get my happy on. But this morning I woke up cheerful, ready to get on with the day. And when I took a nap, I nearly leapt out of bed to do my yoga and then cook, feeling enthusiastic about all of it.
Tonight I was cooking in preparation for happy hour guests tomorrow and a happy hour gaggle of cookbook contributors on Monday night. I made a faux pimiento cheese--with chopped sun-dried tomatoes instead of pimientoes (of which I'm not overly fond) and added a bit of cayenne to the recipe, because that's how I make pimiento cheese. Then I hard-boiled eggs for deviled eggs and made a sardine spread for tomorrow night. During all this, a paid advertisement came on for a CD of all the golden oldies from the '60s and of course they played snatches of songs--"Because of You," "You Belong to Me," "No, No, Not much," "The Twelfth of Never," some Elvis pieces, etc. All were enhanced versions of recordings by the original artists. I had a wonderful time. I usually enjoy cooking anyway, but this added a new dimension. Then I put a piece of salmon in a pie plate, sprinkled it with salt and pepper, surrounded it with white wine, and baked it while I sauteed some zucchini. Great dinner.
School starts Monday for many Texas schools. For me, this has dual significance: first and foremost, my grandkids go back to school. Maddie will be entering middle school (how did she get so old?) and I have this fearful feeling of sending her out into the big world, after the sheltered environment of an elementary school almost across the street from her house; Edie will be in second grade (growing so fast) and Sawyer and Morgan will both enter kindergarten--a milestone in their lives. I haven't had a report on Morgan, but Sawyer found he will have a man for a teacher and is much excited. My hat's off to men who teach those younger kids. The remaining kids will be in day care, but Jacob has been promoted to the four-year-old class. When I asked him about it, he said, "Yeah, I go upstairs now." That's his idea of being promoted.
But school starting has another, more immediate effect on my life. I live across from an elementary school. (After I bought this house, 16 years ago, a good friend said she would never live across from a school--thanks for telling me too late.) Actually I love the house, and it shouldn't be such a problem now that I don't have to rush out the door and driveway at eight, but parents dropping their darlings off are unbelievably rude and thoughtless--they park across my driveway (I once almost hit a kid and another time almost hit a car because when I looked it wasn't there and then suddenly as I backed down the drive, there it was!). They also let their kids out in the middle of the street, which is unbelievably dangerous. The other night the school had an open house, and someone had stopped across my driveway to let his family out just when a friend came to pick me up. Every year, my neighborhood sighs and complains, but it never seems to help. I know the school tries to remind parents, but I think our neighborhood policeman needs to be on the scene. There, rant finished.

A shaky day

I really like something President Obama said on the day after Father's Day: "To have a child is to know that your heart is walking around outside your body!" True, no matter how old they get!

Today I had what I call a shaky day, though not for any good reason. I was determined to go to PetSmart, not an easy place for me because of walking across the parking lot--open spaces make me anxious. I want something to hold on to, if needed. But I had a plan--I'd park by a cart rack, wheel one in, and be fine. (All this for three plastic lids for open cat food!). I did, all went well, and I bought a bird feeder (the squirrels destroyed the last one) and some fresh seed, and came home, but without the triumphant feeling of "Good job, Judith" that I usually feel when I do something like that. At home I made an absolute mess of filling the bird feeder--tonight I even found seed on my yoga mat! It will never again be filled inside! Besides, I haven't noticed any birds partaking of the feast I went to such great lengths to provide.
After that mess and talking to the plumber who is going to have to "rebuild" two of my commodes, I went to Swiss Pastry to get lunch for Jeannie and me--1 bratwurst apiece, kraut and potato salad. And discovered I didn't have my debit card. I dropped off Jacob's favorite life-size stuffed doll (very primitive) to be repaired and high-tailed it to Jeannie's, where I dumped out my purse and went through everything--no debit card. Called PetSmart and some kind soul had found it in the parking lot (as Jordan said, there are still good people in this world). By this time I was really shaky, so Jeannie offered to ride out there with me. The store manager was nice but he asked for i.d., and I'd left my purse in the car, for which Jeannie scolded me severely. While she went to get it, I had an idea and recited the card's 16 numbers to the manager. He grinned and said, "It's yours."
I was glad to get home, piddle at my computer, nap and have a good long yoga session. I'd heard a segment on meditation on NPR this morning, and I really tried to concentrate on what was going on with my body, what muscles felt stretched, strained, where I felt comfortable, and all that--to clear my mind of everything but the poses I was doing. It was more successful than usual--my mind still tends to wander, but I'll keep working on it.
Now I've had supper, hung the bird feeder and cleaned up the mess, taken the garbage carts to the street, fed the dog, and am generally feeling in control of my world. Tomorrow will be a better day. All of us have off-days, for one reason or another--anxiety is just my reason, as opposed to stomach trouble, asthma, migraines, etc. Each of us probably think we'd trade our "problem" for the others--ah, if they only knew!

A writer in the famiily and yoga for wimps like me

Today, when I checked phone messages after my nap, there was a breathless message from Maddie, ten years old and my oldest grandchild. Her teacher last year had submitted a shape poem she wrote (around a musical note) to a company that does anthologies of children's poetry, and Maddie just got word that hers would be published, probably next January. When I called back, her mom said that after jumping up and down in excitement, the next thing she did was to say, "I have to call Juju!" I was approriately proud and happy for her when I called back--my goodness, the thrill of publication at the age of ten. The anthologies are sold to libraries, but she assured me would could buy copies. I will have to tell her that I was about her age when I wrote my first short stories--my mom saved them, and I swear I have them someplace, but I wish I knew where. I can still tell you--and do sometimes tell audiences--what the stories were about. Meantime, I'm excited for Maddie. She's a wonderful student--said today yes, she's getting all As in 5th grade--and still such a sweet and loving girl. The girls in that family are coming for our girls weekend the 12th, and Maddie promised to help my babysit.
Jeannie was telling me about a new, young, temporary yoga instructor in the class she takes. She makes them do the table position--from what I know you bend your knees, put your arms down, and lift your torso flat like a table. But then the instructor had them raise on leg straight in the air and hold it for one minute, then extend it for one minute. I will never achieve that and decided I do yoga for wimps, though Elizabeth always tells me, "If it hurts, don't do it." My muscles no longer quiver, except for my legs on down dog. Elizabeth recently had me increase my program to include the mermaid position, the breast stroke (like swimming on the ground) and supine walking. And some days when I do my yoga I am truly worn out. But the table with a leg raised? I don't think so.
Went to a staff meeting today and came home loaded with so much work that my plans to finish that mystery went out the window. I'm now reading the first pages of a manuscript and liking it, but that's an acquisitions problem. Once again, retirement is not dull!

Dieting

I have become obsessed with point counting on what I eat. I am absolutely boring to eat with because I'm always wondering about how many points something is. Tonight Betty and I split a wonderful tapas platter--dates wrapped in bacon, lobster salad on corn chips, small pieces of lamb on toast with cucumber/yogurt sauce, fried artichokes, and potato galette. I didn't eat the chips or bread and passed on the potato galette or whatever its called. When I came home and figured it all out, the whole meal was only 4.5 points. But I had a half a tongue sandwich for lunch, so I went just a bit over my points for the day. I told Jeannie the other day she and Jean should be laughing at me--for years I listened to them talk about yoga and thought, "Not for me." Now I'm a devotee. Then when they joined Weight Watchers a few months ago, I scoffed--oh, not aloud to them, but to myself. And now here I am obsessed by it. I think what made the difference was that I discovered I could do it online. Some people need the support of a group, but I don't. Just like I do my yoga and bike riding faithfully, I enter my daily points and really watch it.
I am writing just a bit--trying for a thousand words a night, but--on the mystery. At this point, I"m just putting words on paper, trying to get the story down. Then I'll revise.

Lots of stuff, none of it really major

I've been silent on the blog the last couple days, but life hasn't been exactly smooth--I had two crises a work that have really hit me hard. One made me think I have not been paying enough attention to my responsibilities, because some work requested by and sent to the press that headquarters our consortium was inadequate and inaccurate. I corresponded with a colleague there a whole lot--she was most patient with my guilt and angst--until she finally wrote, "This horse is dead." The other had to do with jacket design, and I overrode the designer and my staff to pick the jacket the author wanted. I felt like we'd had a family quarrel. Melinda always says she makes business decisions with her head, I make them with my heart. And my boss says she analyzes things, while I work on instinct. Both were true in this instance, but one of the things I like about TCU Press is that we're author-friendly, we involve authors in the process. I think it's one reason some authors come back to us and new ones are attracted. In this case, the editor of an anthology about El Paso had very firm opinions about what worked and what didn't--she pointed out to me that El Paso is not an overtly religious or Catholic city, the Virgin of the Guadalupe is hackneyed out there, and Franklin Mountain, with its lit star, is an icon for the city. Every opinion I got out of El Paso supported that; every opinion I got out of Fort Worth went for the much more complicated and stylish design. I went with an El Pasoan's knowledge of her city, plus the fact that she's going to be promoting the heck out of this book and she has to be enthusiastic about it.
One of my early novels was about Libbie Custer, published by Bantam. The cover, which they sent me in advance, showed Libby who looked, as one friend said, like Madonna in 19th-century dress, standing in a field of waist-deep grass next to a barbed wire fence, with a stockaded fort sitting on bare brown earth in the background. Well, we had Kansas in the foreground and Arizona in the background--the ubiquitous West. Plus the fact that there were no stockades in the American West--there wasn't enough lumber. Those were back in Michigan, Minnesota, New York, etc. Libbie herself wrote how surprised she was that the "forts" were just a collection of buildings with no fence, no clear border or protection. And barbed wire? It was introduced in San Antonio in 1874; Custer died in 1876. There's no way the West was fenced in time for Libby to be standing by that fence. But I was green and didn't know I could complain, so I let it go. But I learned a big lesson. (you can see the cover on my web page, http://www.judyalter.com/). So I guess I'm content with my decision, but I have this unnecessary desperation to convince my staff and the designer.
In happier news, we've found a lovely garden in a prestigious neighborhood for our 2nd annual Books and Music in the Garden event, and I'm looking forward to planning that. So yesterday had a bit of redemption about it.
One of the things in life I hate doing is taking the dog to the vet for his annual checkup. He is so excited to be in the car (and getting him safely in is no easy task) that he whines and moans and jumps about the back seat. When I get to the vet, I call and they come get him (what a blessing!). Yesterday when I picked him up I found he needs anywhere from $400 to $900 worth of dental work. He'll get it Monday, but I will tell them I'm a believer in conservative medical practices--no pulling teeth because they might go bad some day. I've said the same to my own dentist--and it's time for me to start revisiting my dentist, but I'm not thinking about that for a while.
I had a yoga lesson today, and Elizabeth concentrated on teaching me ways to deepen the poses I already do and make them have more effect. It was a really good lesson, and I thought I learned a lot--if I can only remember it. She was really proud of my boat position and my ability to flow from butterfly to boat and back. Nice to be getting good at something.
After the lesson, she went and got Weldon, her husband, and the three of us went to dinner at Chadra, a Lebanese/Italian place down the street. I had kibbeh, which I'd never had. It's ground sirloin, pine nuts, and I don't know what all, wrapped in ground lamb and deep fried, served with cucumber sauce. Delicious. And we had a delightful visit. As Elizabeth said, when I first met her--she was a work-study student in my office--she was ast a low point in her life. She has definitely blossomed and matured as an adult approaching--ahem--middle age. Tonight's conversation with both of them was lively, interesting, and fun, but I remember when Elizabeth and I used to go to dinner and it was hard to keep the conversation going. She remembers meals at my house, and says only once was she served something she didn't like. I have promised to make them meat loaf, which she thinks she doesn't like (but she likes kibbeh) and Weldon loves. Weldon has turned out to be a wonderful partner for her. They're a great couple, and sometimes I burst my buttons as though I were their parent.
So now the weekend. I have projects to work on, will go to Central Market tomorrow, to brunch with Betty on Sunday, and have neighbors Jay and Susan plus Charles for dinner Sunday. A pleasant weekend looms.
Oh, Facebook! I've rambled on too long tonight, but tomorrow I'll post more about Facebook--and maybe about Nadya Suleman and her exhibitionist pictures of her pregnant belly. Yuck!

Goodbye, Christmas!

Jordan, Christian and Jacob came for supper tonight--I traded them for supper if the adults would put all my Christmas bags and boxes back up in the attic--I do not like to go in the attic and don't do it at all when I'm home alone. Jacob wanted so badly to climb the pull-down ladder, but his mother remained firmly at the bottom, handing things to Christian. The staircase is right next to the bathroom, and Jacob kept pushing her toward the bathroom, telling her to "go potty." At one point she let him push her in there, and he tried to close the door on her. Christian promised him next year he could help, and Jordan told him it would soon be his chore to put up Juju's Christmas. Jacob has new shoes--the kind with lights in them--and he is delighted, stomping around the house to be sure they light up. When they left he gave me a sweet kiss and leaned into me--his version of a hug. I've noticed that several of my grandchildren don't actively hug--they passively allow you to hug them.
I fixed chicken piccata, which Christian said was delicious but I didn't feel it was my greatest--the chicken breasts were way too thick, pound as I might. And the green beans had been in the fridge long enough to be a little tough. I made a new salad dressing (a recipe published in the paper from a now-gone landmark restaurant) using blue cheese powder that I had to order online. Delicious.
What started out as a dull weekend ended up being very pleasant--Saturday I went to Central Market, where a minimal list soon grew to an over $40 purchase--easy to do there. Then I had a yoga lesson, and Elizabeth taught me two new poses--for those in the know, they are standing cat/cow and boat, both designed to strengthen abs, in keeping with my desire to lose weight and slim my genetically thick middle. Last night, Charles, Mary Lu and I went to Sapristi's, the local restaurant where he can get his beloved mussels. It was a really pleasant evening.
Last week, maybe Thursday, I followed online instructions and sent my mystery to a company that had previously asked me for anthology contributions, which I happily wrote and supplied. Saturday I got back a letter of instructions for submitting my manuscript to the submissions editor. Not sure if this means a step forward or is routine. One of the requirements is an author tip sheet, all concerned about liability. I answered no to most of the questions--quotes from books, speeches, songs, the Bible, etc.--but yes to this is a book set in a real city and mentions real places. You have to show written permission for everything but casual mention, so I did what I needed to do anyway--started going back through the manuscript. I thought maybe I'd mentioned only three restaurants, but reading I was amazed at the specific places and some brand names I'd included. In some cases I wrote around it--particularly the line where I walked about the cardboard pizza at Chucky Cheese (I said tonight if Jacob has a b'day party there, I am NOT going!). None of that is in my manuscript now. Their carefulness is a good lesson for me as an editor, and I plan to share it at the office tomorrow.
The good thing about rereading one more time, in addition to catching a few typos, is that I'm putting myself back into the world of Kelly Jones and her family and friend. You know what? I missed them!