My nice life . . . and politics

Last night Austin novelist Sarah Bird stayed in my guest house. She spoke about her latest novel, How Perfect is That? at an HR lunch at TCU and had people laughing so hard their mascara ran--actually more men came to this than usually attend these luncheons. But she and I were pretty much ships that passed in the night until we had lunch today. She had mentioned wishing she'd have grandchildren, but her only child is 19 so she has a way to go. I of course dragged out pictures of my kids and grandkids amd probably talked way too much about my wonderful famly--I'm prone to do that, as readers of this blog might have noticed. But as we got in the car after lunch--my VW bug convertible with butterflies on the hood--she said, "Okay, I want your car, your house, your family, your life." She is of course happily married, lives in what is perhaps Texas' most exciting city, has a career much better than mine--how could she say that? And yet, it touched me, made me think how very fortunate I am, what a good life I have.
Tonight Betty and I ate tapas--the most wonderful Parmesan crisps--and sinful desserts, which was all my fault because I wanted chocolate mousse. But when I came home and took a half glass of wine to the porch, I felt an itch, didn't know what it was, didn't know what I wanted, but something. Maybe it was because I had Jacob the last two evenings and wasn't used to the lazy quiet. I don't know, but I told myself to think about Sarah's comment.
I am horribly conflicted about politics these days. I get a lot of emails, granted all liberal, but many of them are so persuasive that I want to share. What I end up doing, of course, is preaching to the choir, sending them to people who already agree with me. I did branch out a bit and send Gloria Steinem's comments on Sarah Palin to a couple of people that I wasn't sure about--and got equivocal answers. My high school best friend said, "You are my friend forever, and you can't offend me"--and sent something that supported her view. I don't want to offend people, but how do I work for Obama if I can't tell people who need convincing how I feel. (I am block captain for Obama, but that seems a drop in the bucket, and I have obviously declined recent urgings to go to Colorado to support the Democratic congressional contestants there.)
When I said I wanted to be able to discuss politics with those on the other side, I opened a dialog with an old friend who is an arch conservative, thinks George Bush is one of the best presidents we've had, and invading Iraq was a necessity that has turned out well. Clearly he and I never will convince each other, though the exchange was kind of fun.
But what do I do with the email I got today that was a letter from a fellow POW of McCain's and said other POWs were prisoners longer and suffered more torture. McCain, he says, is a man of iron courage who endured much but he is not "The" war hero as he and his campaign protray him. And this man, who went through military school with him, said McCain is a hothead and certainly not someone whose finger he wants on the red button. Do I send it to that man I'll never convince? Do I keep it to myself? What do I, as a deeply concerned citizen and troubled about the current state of everything in our country, do with things like that? I'm saving them up, sending them to the choir, and worrying with my conscience.

Authors--and Jacob

Roberta Isleib's guest post on this blog is a hard act to follow--I think I got more comments than I've ever had in one day. I guess today was my day for brushes with well-known authors. Austin novelist Sarah Bird was at TCU to discuss her new novel, How Perfect is That?, a satire about Texas high society and politics. Only in her speech she didn't talk about the book at all--she talked about being a columnist (she writes a monthly column for Texas Monthly) and how being a columnist could change all of our lives. Funny thing--I write a monthly column for the Dallas Morning News on Texas writers and all I notice is that the monthly deadline makes me crazy to know what I'll write about. Sarah has more freedom and can talk about whatever topics hit her brain--and some are pretty zany, She accompanied her talk with lots of body language, and everyone in the room was laughing out loud. One woman told her she should be on "Saturday Night Live." Probably one of the best--and best attended--programs we've had in the "What's on Your Book Shelf?" series.
Tonight she's gone off to do a reading at a bookstore in Plano ( a really long way from Fort Worth) but she's headed back tonight to stay in my guest house. I'll probably be long asleep by the time she gets here, but we'll have lunch tomorrow and catch up on visiting.
Last night and tonight I had Jacob for company. He's not exactly sparkling company after a long day at day-care, although today I noticed on his daily report that he had a two-hour nap. Still he's kind of solemn, whiny for Mama, and not as loving as he is when he's rested and happy. Still we got along fine. I heated some meatloaf for him and doused it in ketchup (his favorite food) but he wanted none of it--he wanted the really rare chopped sirloin I had fixed for myself, kept saying, "More, more!" His mom came from a business meeting a little after seven, wolfed down her food, and took him home. I'm going to demand more mid-day visits.
Texas is preparing for a hurricane which apparently will cut a wide swath. Colin called tonight to say, "We may be blown away this weekend." Such a comforting thought. They are north of Houston, about 80 miles inland, but I suspect they'll get heavy rains and high wind. He says they're pretty much ready. We're predicted to get rain, possibly wind, possibly thunderstorms by late Saturday or early Sunday, and the storm will continue up into Oklahoma and even Kansas. What I worry most about is what to do with Scooby and his pathological fear of storms, but I guess I don't have to worry about it for a few days.

Guest blogger Roberta Isleib

As promised yesterday, Roberta Isleib is guest blogging today while on a tour for her third advice column mystery, ASKING FOR MURDER (Berkley.) Roberta is a clinical psychologist, the Agatha, Anthony, and Macavity nominated author of eight mysteries, and the president of Sisters in Crime. Read more at http://www.robertaisleib.com.


My first mystery protagonist, professional golfer Cassie Burdette, was one hell of an athlete. She was also plenty neurotic, with a closet full of skeletons: her father’s desertion, a melancholy, alcoholic mother, a fog of self-doubt. She had lousy taste in men and tended to defer soul-searching in favor of the anesthetic effects of Budweiser. I finally talked her into starting psychotherapy (with the help of a couple of other characters) to address her low self-esteem and self-destructive tendencies. She began to play better golf, choose kinder men, drink less, and reconnect with her dad.
But despite my gentle urging, Cassie never did learn to eat well. Or to cook. Everywhere I went, readers commented on the junk food, the fried food, the hamburgers, the beer. The only recipe she was ever quoted as cooking had canned beans and sliced hot dogs as its main ingredients. And this was in a real, published cookbook, no less. How completely embarrassing.
Rebecca Butterman, the psychologist protagonist in my advice column mysteries, is a gourmet cook—but not the fussy kind of cooking you’d find in a Julia Child cookbook. Rebecca cooks things like roast chicken, peach pie, cheddar cheese scones, split pea soup, cheese puffs, stir-fried veggies with marinated flank steak, homemade cookies. I’m making myself hungry.
.
Anything I have a hankering for, she ends up cooking. I’m a decent cook, but not a big fan of long, complicated recipes unless there’s a special occasion. Rebecca’s more patient than I am, even with most tedious tasks of cooking. Here’s an example: Right now we have an excess of tomatillos in our garden so naturally I want to make tomatillo/cilantro sauce for chicken enchiladas. But oh the misery of sorting and washing all those leaves and husking the slippery produce. Rebecca would find that relaxing!
When I was single, you might have caught me opening a can of tamales for dinner. Rebecca wouldn’t do that! She feels she deserves a good meal whether alone or in company. And she hardly ever eats standing over the sink. And she has a maxim against eating food from a pan—even if it’s just her at the table.
Where do I find Rebecca’s recipes? In my own recipe box, on Epicurious.com, and by closely watching my friends who are talented cooks. For example, my writing buddy, Hallie Ephron, visited last year for a plot brainstorming session. She brought the ingredients for our dinner—a lovely marinated antipasto platter and spaghetti carbonara. When the time came to write about a dinner party in ASKING FOR MURDER, the menu was set! All I had to do was add the dessert—a red velvet cake that one of my fellow Sisters in Crime had baked for a meeting.
Here’s the recipe for the marinated flank steak Rebecca uses in a stir-fry dish in Asking for Murder, from my friend Linda Mills. (This is good for pork, beef, and chicken.)

Korean Marinade
4 TBS sugar
2 TBS sesame oil
6 TBS soy sauce

Marinate the meat from 2 to 24 hours before grilling. Discard marinade and make a new batch to serve with entrée, if desired. You may also add coarse black pepper, sliced scallions, chopped fresh garlic, toasted sesame seeds.

Enjoy your dinner and Asking for Murder. Thanks for inviting me to stop in today Judy!

Fall and Walkers, plus a guest blogger

In the mornings now, you can sense fall might be nearing. It's still pretty hot mid-day and a bit muggy in the evening, but mornings are really pleasant. I'm tempted to put the top down to drive to work, but it's only five minutes and seems like too much effort. Then again, maybe I should do it. I live across the street from an elementary school, so I see lots of parents walking their children to school. Part of me says it's a pity they have to do that these days--I remember sending second grader Megan off on a bike with a fifth grader as her protector, and Jordan always walked when we lived about four blocks from the school I now live right by. But it's a different world.
What tickles me is that the kids go to school on scooters or whatever, and then the parents are left to cart these things home. Today I saw two parents riding the scooters. One was a man I know from church, so I slowed down to compliment him on his form, and he laughed and thanked me.
It's also a neighborhood of walkers--a very busy place at 8 a.m. But that's what makes it nice.
I recently read Asking for Murder, by Roberta Isleib, president of Sisters in Crime, author of eight mysteries in seven years, some of which were nominated for Agatha, Anthony and McCavity awards. Asking for Murder is newly out, and Roberta is doing a blog tour to promote it. When I invited her to be my guest one day, I suggested she write about cooking. When I read her novel, I was impressed by the dinners the protagonist, counselor and advice columnist Rebecca Butterman, seemed to throw together casually, especially the spaghetti carbonera. I thought this author is a good cook. Besides, cooking is a big part of my blog, and it seemed appropriate to ask. Roberta obliged gladly. I've been following her tour, and I notice she writes a different post for each blog--a lot of work, and my hat's off to her for not rubber stamping.
The cooking habits of fictional characters are of particular interest to me. Somehow Kelly, the central figure in the series I'm currently working on, isn't much of a cook. She takes her kids out, she fixes a lot of peanut butter and jelly, or she asks boyfriend Mike to grill to accompany store-bought potato salad. I keep trying to nudge her into more cooking, because I'm dumbfounded that I, who like to cook so much, created this woman who really doesn't like the kitchen much. Kelly hasn't taken the hint. Maybe she'll learn from Roberta. Anyway, I'll post Roberta's blog tomorrow night.

A Kitchen Day

I finally found a use for the fig tree in my back yard. A few summers ago it bore lots of figs, and when I could get to them before the birds did, I gave them to friends. But in the last few years, it has only sprouted hard little green things that have never ripened. But today I made lamb meatballs wrapped in fig leaves. We had a neighbors dinner, and Jay--the handsome neighbor--got to grill them, which he declared was beyond his expertise. I had picked the leaves (24) and washed and blanched them but I expected help rolling them around the meat mixtture. Susan helped, Sue declared there was no room for her (but she did dishes, bless her), and Jay declined to help because, as he said, "I'm a man." No wonder he likes Sarah Palin. But he did a good job, and they were delicious. When they were grilling, you could smell the fig leaves. You didn't eat the leaves, of course, but unwrapped the meatballs. Above is a picture of the finished product. And a picture of Jay with Sue, my neighbor on the other side. I tried to take a picture of Jay and his lovely wife, Susan, but it was way too dark. Anyway the meal, which I worked on much of the day, was a success--lamb meatballs, tabulleh, a cucumber sauce, and hot dogs for Sue's kids, although Hunter ate a meatball and liked it. Jay brought a wonderful appetizer of toast, mozarella, anchovy and tomato, and we had one of our neighbors dinners that I enjoy so much. We sat around the table and talked for a long time--each time we learn more about each other and become closer friends, and I feel truly blessed to have such neighbors.

This morning in a rash moment I offered to make chicken salad for Jordan for lunch, so she and Jacob arrived about eleven. I have discovered chicken salad we both love--chunks of chicken (not shredded), chopped scallions and celery, equal parts of sour cream and mayonnaise (no, none of it low fat) and a good helping of blue cheese. Jordan ate two helpings. Jacob and I ate a lot of blueberries--I asked him to stick out his tongue, and it was very blue. He was in a really happy mood, fun to play with, and it dawned on me that I usually see him at doinner time when he's tired. Today he was a lot more playful and giggly, pretending to be asleep whenever I said I was coming to get a kiss. He had laughing eyes, which he often doesn't have in the evening.

The change of seasons was very evident at Central Market yesterday. The vegetables of summer were all gone--I wanted snow peas and sugar snap peas, but there were none. Tomatoes were few, as were the berries of summer. Fall is upon us, even if the temperature hasn't caught up with the times.

A writing lesson

Last night I tried to outline what was still to come in my novel in progress. I finished going through the first eight chapters--not for the last time, I know--and I revised the eighth one a good bit. I had written myself a big note that said "Chapter Eight needs work." And I did that. And then I started on Chapter Nine--I knew what was going to happen, and I wrote quickly. Tonight I picked up where I'd left off and again wrote quickly. Again, I knew what was going to happen, and I wanted to get it on paper. Which, of course, made me think of Fred's constant refrain--slow down. I decided that I write fast the first time through, getting it all down, and then I can go back and embellish with details, slow down the pace. So now I'm operating under that theory and it seems to work well. (I'm only six pages into chapter nine, so that may be a premature announcement). It startled me to realize that I'm halfway through the second book. That also makes me realize I need to go back and start doing some real marketing work on the first book. No agent, no publisher for it, and the second book is worthless. So I have my work cut out for me. I did today turn down a young-adult biography assignment, though the idea of pay was negligible, and I didn't, as I think I said before, want to lose focus.
I had a yoga lesson today--a real workout, but Elizabeth seemed to think I am doing well and taught me a few new exercises to augment the half hour I do almost every day. Supposedly I alternate between riding the bike and yoga, but I find that I do the yoga more because I want to improve my strength and balance. I am really proud that I can hold a balance pose--kneeling with one leg extrended and the opposite arm extended--for a slow count of ten. I was telling Elizabeth that my ideal day is when I get home from work by noon or one, eat lunch, clean up office details, email, etc., have a nap, get up and work out and then after dinner work on my novel. She agreed that sounded like a great day. I think a lot of working women envy my schedule, and the only thing I can plead is tht I really really worked hard to get where I am.
Tonight was Gallery Night in Fort Worth--something I've enjoyed in the past but wasn't up to tonight. Melinda from the office came and picked me up and we went to the Firehouse Gallery on the east side where our author Phil Vinson was exhibiting a very few of his photographs and selling his new book (our new book), Fort Worth: A Personal View. There was a bigger crowd than I expected at the small gallery, and Phil had already sold several books. He has been such a pleasant author to work with--he and his wife, Rita, are a team, and she's really the business manager. But his book, unlike many others, went along without a hitch, appeared a month early, and looks great. I don't know that I've ever known an author as pleased with the result as Phil is, and it really makes us feel good. He's grateful, we' grateful, and it's great all the way around.
Melinda and her friend Barbara asked if I wanted to go to other galleries but I had a smorgasbord in mind for my supper--meat loaf, asparagus, smoked salmon, and marinated herring, followed by chocolate of course, and, I had that chapter in my head.

Amazing Times

Well, the hoopla of conventions is over--now comes the campaign. It's hard to know what to believe and what not to, as we are beseiged on all sides with contradictory stories. McCain says Obama will raise taxes; Obama says McCain's tax program will only help the rich, and he Obama, will lower taxes for everyday citizens. McCain says how proud he is to have chosen the first woman to be nominated for vice-president by the Republican Party (hey, the Democrats did it quite a while back, even if she lost!) and we are told we must not raise gender issues--but then Governor Palin talks about being a soccer mom. McCain tells us he knows people are worried about jobs, gas prices, everyday living, and Joe Biden tells us McCain did not mention one concrete way of helping the ordinary citizen.
A friend of mine is setting off on a month-long trip driving through the American West. She says they'll stay in cabins and national park lodges, where there is no TV. They'll not take a computer. And she's delighted that when they come back, it will be almost over and she won't have to hear another word about it. But then at breakfast yesterday another friend said, "It's so exciting. No matter who wins, these are incredible times to be living. I'm loving it." I asked if she wanted it to be over, and she said, "No way. I'm fascinated."
I went to the grocery today--not ordinarily a big deal, but it had become a really big deal for me. Could I get in without crossing an open parking lot? Would I panic? Today I parked in a handicapped spot, breezed right it, and didn't cling to the cart on the way out (that always worries the sack boys a bit). I am feeling much better.
And I'm working away on my novel, realizing I need to get more serious about marketing the first one since I'm now halfway through the second one and feeling much much better about it.
The world seems in its place--as much as it can be in troubling times--and the only family complication I can think of at the moment is that Jacob has pink eye. Life can't be too bad if that's the worst of it. And I'd hate to say with assurance we've seen the last of summer, but the days are bearable and the early mornings downright pleasant. It makes everyone happier.

Politics and the Dentist

I endured three hours--and lots of drilling--in the dentist's chair today, and apparently it's only the first of many sessions to come. I tried to do it with grace, though there was one period when I felt like I couldn't breathe, and I know I squirmed. I asked if he was almost through, and he said, "No. We're not getting very far. You're moving." So I did as the tech suggested--closed my eyes, breathed through my nose. It went better but none of it was pleasant. Almost as painful as watching politics on the TV.
I watched the Republican convention last night, because I had vowed to hear both sides of the story Whether I watched with an open mind or not is questionable, but I tried. My main impression was that the whole evening had such a military air to it--the former POWs, the constant reminders of McCain's sufferings as a stubborn POW who refused to give up information and paid the price, the president reminding us as he has for the last eight years that we "live in a dangerous world." I am so tired of trying to be frightened into accepting war tha the whole thing dismayed me. Fred Thompson, who I used to like on Law and Order but don't much care for as a politician, did say, "Being a POW doesn't show you can be president, but it does show character" or something to that effect. I am constantly getting the impression that we should vote for McCain because he's a war hero--and God give him every bit of credit that he deserves for his bravery. But he would also be a war president, and our worst presidents have been generals. In all fairness, I hear tonight is to be dedicated to the economy, which was not mentioned last night.
Thompson also called Governor Palin a "breath of fresh air." Who can help but be drawn into that fascinating scenario? One hardly knows what to believe about the daily increasing "revelations" about her and her family, and today I heard that her social security number has even been posted on the internet. I can't see what purpose that would serve even the mudslingers--does it prove something awful about her character? Do they think someone will steal her identity, even as prominently in the public eye as she is? I think the "revelations" about her and her family are unfair, nasty, uncalled for. But I do know she scares me--her extreme right-wing positions on abortion, guns, states' rights. I am curious to know more about her supposed pork barrel funds in her small town and her alleged abuse of power, but we may never get the truth about those things. What scares me most is her absolute, deadening inexperience with national and international politics--how can we put someone like that the proverbial heartbeat away from the presidency, separated only by a man in his seventies who has had several bouts with melanoma and whose long-term health surely suffered from his horrendous experiences as a POW? Palin's appointment scares me about McCain too--it seems he did it on a whim, without thorough vetting, and wouldn't be talked out of it. Can you picture Palin, with her shriill voice and aggressive manner, sitting opposite the cold, calm and calculating Putin? Negotiating with North Korea?
The world, it seems to me, has gone screwy. I'm going back to the fantasy world of mysteries.

Kids, cooking, and dcotors

This is my Austin family. I don't get pictures from them often--their lives are too busy--so I thought I'd show them off. They've just been to Alaska (on the left) and southern Mexico (on the right), somplace I can't pronounce, spell, or remember, but it was south of Cancun. I got a bit mixed up and when I first looked I wondered why in the world Brandon took a suit and tie to a Mexican resort. Then, of course, I looked at the beautiful background and realized it was their trip to Alaska for a wedding. Pictures of the ocean and view from their casa in Mexico were equally beautiful. Megan says she's ready to go back to either place right away.

Can't talk much about writing, because I haven't gotten back to my mystery since I last posted a blog. I'm going out for an early supper tonight and then will put myself at the computer and stay there, hoping to revise a chapter tonight. Meantime I decided this blog should have more about cooking, so I thought I'd describe my casserole-for-one last night. I made a basic flour and butter roux, added millk for a stiff white sauce, then thinned it with white wine, put in peas and cut up cooked chicken breast, topped it with cheese and broiled. Good last night and good today for lunch. I tried to tell Jordan how to do that once, but she boggled at the white sauce directions.

An update on my poor balance: the doctor confirmed today that it is anxiety which, he says, cycles for no known reason. He said it's a chemicl/hormonal imbalance in my brain and may be likened to a flare-up of diabetes or thyroid problems. After assuring me he was confident it would pass as it has before, he also assured me I should not feel guilty or weak about it--sometimes I think if I would just gut up I could walk across that open space. Not so, according to the doctor. He's given me a prescription and told me to take it daily instead of trying to tough it out, as I had been, and he's given me a signed application for a handicap parking sticker which will probably banish my fear of trips to the grocery. His last words were to be sure to take Xanax before I go to the dentist at 8 a.m. tomorrow.

Work was fine today and I got things done, but it was one of those days when I wished I could stay home with my mystery. I am to talk to a gentleman Thursday about a young-adult book which, I presume, would be a paying project. I could use the money but I think I'll decline in order to stay focused. I'm learning so much about the mystery genre and, some days, feeling so good about what I'm writing. Of course, other days I despair, but . . . .

Hmmm. Tonight I'd like spaghetti. Definitely not on my diet, but . . . .

Visiting and working

I spent probably 20 hours in Frisco this weekend, visiting Jamie and Mel, Maddie and Edie, and had a lovely time--good visits with the girls, though they are very self-contained and entertain themselves for hours, so sometimes adults don't see much of them. Sunday morning, Jamie went to work out, Mel and I both slept late, and it was eleven o'clock before the girls came downstairs. They'd been playing doctor, with Edie as the patient with a broken arm--Maddie is going to wear out that ace bandage, which she sometimes wraps around her own arm for effect. I had great adult visits though--talking politics separately with each of them (we all agree, but we can get vehement about our agreement). One highlight was that Jamie and I went to buy me a new Spring Instinct phone which does everything--phone, email, GPS, weather, voice reognition, camera, lots more than I ever thought I'd want. Then we spent much of the weekend setting it up (Jamie had lots of good laughs out of that and I won't embarrass msyelf with my technical lack of expertise) and teaching me to use it. We also went to a new grocery, Market Store, that is sort of a combination of an upscale grocery and a Central Market high end store. The produce and meat and seafood--lots of it organic and all very fresh--line the perimeter of the store, while the ordinary daily goods canned and dry goods are in the center. An hour and a half in the store passed quickly.
It was a wonderful weekend but as always I was glad to get home, though I detoured through Coppell. Jamie drove me there where Jordan and Christian were having dinner with his family. I came home with Jordan and Jacob, who'd eaten too much cake and chattered animatedly (and meaninglessly) most of the way.
From Saturday morning to late Sunday evening is not long and yet it seemed like I'd been away a long time. Unpacking, catching up with the animals--Sue had kindly taken care of them--catching up with email and the Sunday paper. Thanks goodness today was a holiday--I slept till 8:30 this morning, went to Central Market, and have been home working all day.
I'm rewriting again and sometimes wondering if I'll ever move forward or just keep rewriting. But I see where I'd gone amuck--one was to follow an editor's suggestion (without any promise of interest) to make the second novel the first. I tried hard to weave the back story into it, but I wasn't happy with the result, and Fred said the rewrite lacked the unity or coherence of my usual work. His other comment was that I was letting a subplot take over too much of the story. The problem was a famliar one to writers--I got so intrigued by one event that I let it take over. A designer friend of mine said she knew why a cover she was working on wasn't right--she was so determined to use one element, that it got away with the job. Once she discarded it, the cover worked. I'm hoping the same is true of me.
A friend, divorced after a long marriage, told me someone advised her to shoot her husband in his sorry ass. I laughed a lot--and saw it as the opening of a novel. It worked great, but then what did I do with that story in a novel about a serial killer? That's why I'm starting over. And each time I go through I see places where I can flesh the story out with more details, more description. Fred always tells me to stop hurrying through things, pointing out his wife likes the descriptions as well as the plot. He's write I do hurry--and if I'm not careful, I could write a whole novel in dialog. I did three chapters today, but I think I can only do two even on a good day. I begin to lose my edge.
Back to work tomorrow. A note of thanks to those who advised me to see a doctor about my balance and others who might have worried. I have done so, though I know very well it's part of my lifetime anxiety disorder--sometimes I can keep it under control and sometimes I can't. This time it has come out in the classic fear of open spacees--let me walk next to a walll, a line of parked cars, a person, and I'm fine--but don't ask me to cross an open parking lot alone. I have developed some coping skills (ways to avoid being confronted) but I know I have to face the problem and have taken steps to do that too. I appreciate your concern.