A blog after long silence

Kauai at its lush, green best

Okay, the title of this blog is a silly take-off on the W. B. Yeats' poem, "Speech After Long Silence," a poem I remember writing a paper on in graduate school, fabricating a whole scene of a married couple who hadn't spoken to each other for years because they had nothing to say. That's sort of where I was with the blog this week: I had nothing much to say.

It’s been back to routine around here—Hawaii too far behind me, Jacob back in school so we’re doing homework every afternoon. What I thought would be a long week of stay-home-and-work days turned out not to be so. Lunches with three friends, and dinner at the Old Neighborhood Grill two nights in a row—ate a turkey burger each night. Think that craving is squelched for a while. Tonight I fixed chicken with a yogurt sauce for the Burtons and everyone had their own veggie—broccoli for Jacob because he loves it (or did until tonight), leftover zucchini for me, a salad for Jordan, and either salad or green beans for Christian. But Christian didn’t show up until it was time to be off to the school for Jacob’s first-grade program. He had one line, which he delivered masterfully. We just wished he would have smiled more the whole time. Sent dinner home with Christian.

Speaking of zucchini, it’s funny how a vacation can make you forget your routine. Once back, I bought zucchini when I grocery shopped. Rattling around in my mind was the notion that I’d found a way to cook it that I really liked—I just couldn’t remember what it was, so the zucchini sat. I was about to get out my file of vegetable recipes when I remembered: grate it, sauté in butter briefly, add salt and pepper. So easy and so good.
Today I downloaded the rest of the Hawaii pictures from my camera. When I got home, I got out the cord that connects camera to computer and found it had been chewed—who could have done that? Sophie isn’t talking. So, at a cost of $50-plus, I ordered a new one. It came yesterday and I retrieved the pictures. What I’d had so far were from my phone or Jordan’s phone.
Spent a good part of this week buried in a book—Faith Bass Darling’s Last Garage Sale. Look for the review on Story Circle Book Reviews soon, and I’ll try to post a review on Goodreads. I loved this book. It will make you laugh, look at your own life, and cry for Faith and her loved ones.
Next project: edits on the second Blue Plate Mystery, tentatively titled Murder at Tremont House. Catch up on Kate Chambers’ adventures from the beginning by reading Murder at the Blue Plate Café.

Let the good times roll!

More Chronicles of Sophie

Sophie had a bath, trim, nails cut, the whole nine yards today. She's fluffy and cute and doesn't look like a poodle (my constant worry). Cheers to Whisker Washers and a nice guy named Kirk who took time to comb some mats out of her.
My "puppy" is just two months shy of her second birthday, and she is so much calmer. She's taken to sleeping at my feet, under my desk, though sometimes she just goes and crawls happily into her crate. I guess this afternoon I wakened her before she was ready, because she clearly didn't want to come out. She follows me from room to room. The other day she lost me and suddenly came bounding into the bathroom, pushing the door open, as if to say, "There you are! I found you!" She still has her moments--goes crazy bonkers over Jordan and anyone new, like the dog groomer this morning. Also Greg who does the lawn, Lewis who keeps my house running. Last night, with ten adults and three children for dinner, I had to tell Jacob emphatically that no, he could not let her in. But she's finally growing into a well-behaved dog. Home alone with me, she's calm, quiet, sometimes begs for attention but we've pretty much reached an agreement on our lifestyle.
Every morning when I open her crate, she puts her head in my lap and we have a little loving session, although sometimes it's clear she's more anxious for a drink and a path of grass than love. Every night, when I turn out my desk lamp, she picks up a toy, trying to tempt me to play, but I can bribe her with a treat. Then before she crawls into her crate, I get down on the floor, she climbs in my lap, and we sit and love and I talk to her. Sometimes she twists around to lick my face and other times she contents herself with licking my hands or ankles. But when I make a move in the direction of the crate, she goes willingly. I've developed the habit of singing the first lines of "Good night, Irene," to her. Tried to substitute Sophie for Irene (should work--two syllables) but I can't do it. I have no idea if she likes this or finds it an irritation.
I also talk to her a lot--we discuss whatever's on my mind, from what to fix for supper to whether or not I'm going to leave her long when I put her outside. More and more, she prefers to be in the house, but for some inexplicable reason, she is loathe to come in at night. I cajole, command, threaten and tempt--eventually something works. And then she gets her one chew bone of the day.
Sophie's good company, and she's worth every ounce of frustration that went into her first year--and most of the destruction too. I cannot imagine ever living without a dog.

A Mexican St. Patrick's day birthday

I feel like I’ve been in a whirlwind. There were ten adults and three children here for Jordan’s birthday dinner tonight. I cut up fruit this morning, grated cheese, had the table all set with extra leaves in it (that kills my back), thought I was all ready. Jordan arrived an hour before the guests and went into frantic mode making cheese enchiladas and queso. I was the sous chef, which meant cleaning up as she went along because I can’t bear to let a mess accumulate. Made me appreciate my lazy pace of the rest of the day.

Then the guests began to arrive. These are all people I love, but oh my! when they all talk at once it’s so much noise I can’t make out what any one person is saying. Still it was a jolly affair, with lots of laughter, children shouting, all the trappings of a family celebration. And good food—chips and queso, cheese enchiladas, beans, a huge fruit salad, and chocolate cake. What more could anyone ask?

Jordan and Christian are so good about cleaning up my kitchen. Tonight it got to be eight o’clock, time to get Jacob home to bed, and they apologized for the mess they left. I approached it with a certain amount of dread but it wasn’t bad at all. I’ve left two enchilada pans soaking, but everything else is done. Tomorrow I’ll do a big kitchen wash—towels, napkins, etc.

And tonight I’m happy but tired. I think my St. Patrick’s Day baby, the youngest of my children, had a good birthday.

Setting your own deadlines--or OCD

My neighbors came for happy hour tonight, and Jay was telling me that Susan had trimmed back the ivy growing up my wall. I protested that Greg, who keeps my yard, could do that, but she shrugged and said, "I was already there." Jay said she was compulsive, and a bit later I confessed to something that indicated I too am compulsive--which I guess everyone who knows me is already aware of.
But my self-imposed deadlines struck me again tonight with a bit of humor. I had dreaded a long weekend with nothing to do. Happy hour took care of tonight, and I invited a friend for supper tomorrow. Then I decided I have to cook an Irish supper, so I'm doing a Reuben casserole (now there's an experiment!) and an Irish potato salad. This means two trips to two different groceries, which I had planned anyway, but the potato salad recipe says, "Best prepared the day before." Well, I can't do that, but I can cook it in the morning. That makes a very busy morning. I had planned to drop some things off at another friend's house, but I emailed her that my plate was full tomorrow and I'd get them to her next week--and that's when it struck me. My plate is indeed full, but with self-imposed deadlines. Nobody else cares. If I greeted my guest at the door tomorrow night and said, "I didn't cook. Let's go out," she'd say, "Fine. Where do you want to go?" But of course I won't do that. I'll have individual casseroles waiting and that blasted potato salad. And somewhere during the day I'll set out dishes for dinner for 12-13 on Sunday (I don't have to cook, just make a fruit salad--Jordan is making an enchilada casserole for her own birthday dinner).
My first thought is how silly is that to have filled my empty weekend to the point that I feel busy?. But I thought about it some more and realized there's an upside to this. A friend wrote me the other day saying she admired my energy and enthusiasm. Well, I think energy comes from doing the compulsive things I do, from keeping busy, reaching out to friends, loving the world around me. If I'd have left the weekend empty, I'd probably have a pity party of one. So tomorrow, much as I've enjoyed sleeping late with the time change, I'll probably pop out of bed and get to the store, so I can make the potato salad--and I'll fret because it hasn't really sat overnight. Being compulsive can get silly sometimes, but it ain't all bad.

People make a huge difference

Yesterday I was feeling a bit sorry for myself because a long day stretched before me without much if any human interaction. But Sophie and I were both overjoyed when Lewis Bundock, the man who keeps my house together, came to fix a balky door and visited. Today Greg, the man who makes my flowers and lawns look good, came and also stayed to visit--Sophie and I were again overjoyed.
Then I had lunch with good friend Jean at Tokyo Cafe--yakitori and a salad--and we went to get our flowers of the month (above). We had a great visit, catching up on everthing from my trip to Hawaii to her plans to go to Italy.
Tonight, good friend Kathie Lang Allen came from Arlington and we visited over a glass of wine and then went to Miso Fusion for supper. I had a plate of red, green, and white enchiladas--way too much for me to eat, but the spinach enchilada was the best I've ever had. And we too had a good visit.
I've long said that I feed on people. Being with others energizes me, and I am a much happier camper. Left alone, I tend to fall into introspection and the doldrums. So tonight I'm upbeat, happy with the world, and optimistic. Now if I could only settle down to work.
But I can't emphasize enough how important my friends are to me. I am blessed with many, and I hope each and every one realizes how much I value them.

Getting back to work

Getting back from a trip complicated by the switch to daylight savings time has made it hard for me to get back to routine. Though I have to protest--against a swarm of complaints about the switch to daylight savings time, I love it, love the extra light at night, the darker mornings. And then there was Jacob's sickness--he had a stomach bug over the weekend which really worked to my benefit: I had two delightful dinners at their house, though I was dismayed by how lethargic he was. Even woke in the night worrying about him--lethargy is generally not in Jacob's vocabulary. He was to go to his other grandparents Sunday but was too sick, so Monday, after a trip to the doctor, I got the fun (?) of getting 2 oz. of Pedialite down him every fifteen minutes to get fluid into his severely dehydrated little body. He was cross, cranky, stubborn, and sleepy. Not the best day for either of us. Tuesday he was much brighter, back to his talk-a-bunch self--we ran errands and he was pleased to go inside a post office for what he said was the first time in his life, he wanted to do yoga stretches, etc. We were back on track.
This morning, he went to his other grandparents, my tenant left at 3:20 a.m. for a long weekend trip, and I felt deserted with a long day stretching ahead of me. Not that I didn't have work to do; I just had no enthusiasm for any of it. But the day got better--the man who keeps my house running came to fix a balky door and we had a long visit, discussing among other things a possible deck off the back door. Then I ran the one errand I hadn't done yesterday and decided to treat myself at Central Market--bought a salmon cake and twice baked potato for supper, a meatloaf for sandwiches, and--oh, yes--some chocolate. Brightened my mood considerably.
And, yes, I've done some work since, including writing a guest blog I was a bit baffled about. My crab cake and potato were delicious, though following my new routine I only ate half of each.
I love it when I can get busy on a day that starts out gloomy and end the day cheerfully. I think it's always up to us, a matter of deciding how we'll spend the day. And I didn't want to spend it in a sulk. I'm thinking of the rest of the week as my spring vacation--even slept late this morning. But I admit I'll be glad when we're back in the routine next Monday, homework and all.

Old friends are gold

I can't leave Hawaii behind on the blog without a tip of the hat to the people who lured us to the islands, Martha and Dick Andersen. Fifty years ago last fall Martha and I were English majors together at Truman State University in Kirkville, Missouri, she an undergraduate and me working on a Masters. We had a big something in common--her father was the the president of the osteopathic college in Kirksville; mine was president of the one in Chicago. I don't think it was that that drew us together so much as an affinity for each other. Martha would marry that December, and I married the next year. The four of us did a lot together, creating some fond memories. Over the years and through crises in both families, we've kept in touch. They've come to Texas four times at least, and when my children were young we all went to Omaha to see them. When they lived in Singapore, they urged me to come visit but I wasn't quite brave enough to make the long and complicated trip alone. One year on a visit to Texas, they took me to Santa Fe--wonderful experience. It's truly golden to have friends who remain close and caring after all those years, and I feel blessed by their continuing friendship and support. They are one of the most comfortable couples I know...I don't think I can pay them a greater compliment.
And they've welcomed Jordan heartily. We had great visits on the lanai, fun fixing suppers (and the perfect martini), and sightseeing on Kauai. Because of them, I have an experience I will always treasure.

Sunset above the clouds as we headed home

As wonderful as our trip had been, we were ready to come home, and it's good to be back. Now I'm trying to get in the groove of work. I have books to write, lunches to share with friends, books to read, a lot to do. And it's all good.

Maui

We had an entirely different experience on Maui than we did on Kauai. I think it was because we stayed in a resort hotel rather than a private residence. We were tourists among throngs of fellow tourists. I learned a lot on Maui, and some of it is negative. I learned that I don’t really like life at a resort hotel and while I always appreciate good food I am not fond of eating all meals in high-priced restaurants.

The day we landed we had lunch at a seaside place called Mama’s Fish House that Jordan had found online. A beautiful experience—window table, ocean right in front of us, a sophisticated menu. I had lobster guacamole and oysters on the half shell, with a glass of wine. Loved it…and nearly fainted when they brought the bill.

We stayed at the Hyatt Regency at Ka’annapoli Beach, an inspiring place with a fully planted open atrium and the customary rooms around it. I was much relieved that our room was in another wing and I didn’t have to do those glass elevators and balcony walks to get there. Heights bother me, and I once had a miserable stay on the 11^th floor of a Hyatt with three young children; the oldest, three, could have climbed that balcony wall in a flash.

Once settled in our room, we fell quickly into a pattern. Jordan got up early and went to the spa ever morning, while I dozed, watched the news, and drank my coffee. One breakfast in the hotel dining room was enough—we neither needed to eat that much nor spend that much. But it was a lovely experience—the restaurant was open to a pond with a waterfall and a swan that swam right up to our table. Sparrows flew all over the dining room, often landing to pick up snacks from discarded plates. After that, we breakfasted in our room.

Jordan had arranged to visit other hotels at lunchtime, so we dined at the Ritz Carlton one day and the Four Seasons the next—both magnificent, elegant places where I felt slightly under-dressed and out of place. But beach-front lunches were good…and always there was the ocean. At the Four Seasons, we had our best whale sighting ever when one jumped out and then dove back into the water right in front of us. These visits gave us a chance to drive both directions from our hotel and see a bit of the island which is, as you’d expect, beautiful. Much of it is “developed” and manicured but there’s still plenty in its natural state. We were particularly aware here of green ocean fronts and barren, brown hills.

Afternoons, Jordan sunned by the pool while I read and napped in our room, which had an ocean view if you sat on the balcony and looked just the right way. Or maybe I should say ocean glimpse. Although we had a car, Jordan didn’t want to drive at night so we dined at the hotel and quickly found our favorite spot: Japengo, a sushi/steakhouse. We claimed a table on the patio bar area with a wonderful ocean view—and more whale sightings.

One night we had the fun of visiting with William Nikkel, an author published by my publisher, Turquoise Morning Press, 6and his wife Karen; theylive on Maui. We sat at “our” table and shared a pupu platter, along with tales of writing mysteries. Jordan said when we talked about various guns and their capabilities and people who “needed killing” the lady at the next table was alarmed and kept watching us with caution.

We spent a long day waiting to fly home--lunch at a nice place on the coast and long hours in a bar at the airport where we watched a small drama. Fur men took forever to load a large dog crate into the cargo hold of a plane. They turned it sideways and ever which way and I worried about the dog, but we could see them talk to it and put their hands in to pet the animal. The finally got it loaded and upright. Five minutes later they came back, unloaded it, and drove away. Did they put it on the wrong plane? We'll never know. Finally our plane took off and we flew most of the night to get home. Glad to be back.

Kauai, the Garden Island

The view from the lanai

My favorite place in Kauai was the lanai (or patio). It’s maybe a hundred yards from bushes, beyond which are lava rocks and the ocean. We sat there endlessly—breakfast, lunch, happy hour—talking, catching up, reliving old times, watching for whales. I think I was first to see spouts but Jordan got better at it than I was. The birds came right in front of us to eat bread that Martha provided, the wind blew, and occasional rain splattered us. My idea of heaven—especially with a book. When I said I could spend all day there, Dick said, “I do. A lot.”

Spouting Horn

But we were there to see the sights, and Dick and Martha showed them to us. Martha took us souvenir shopping for things to bring back home—a trip that would have bored Dick utterly. She also showed us some of the local sights around Po’ipu Beach (means crashing waves), including Spouting Horn, a phenomenon where incoming ocean water spouts up between rocks—not sure what causes it. And the wind blew and blew.

Wimea Canyon

One day we all went to Wimea Canyon, which involved a trip along the south and west coasts of the island and then angling inward, up twisting, turning mountain roads to a canyon that is a miniature of the Grand Canyon and spectacular in its own right. I wimped out and didn’t climb to the observation point, which Jordan said I would not have enjoyed—but I got enough glimpses as we sped along those roads to know how impressive it is. We went further into the mountains to a state park where we picnicked on a grassy meadow and fed the most spectacular chickens. They are wild and colorful descendants of chickens brought by the Japanese but very tame because they’re used to being fed. I noticed that neither Mama nor Papa were much concerned about feeding the babies and would grab the crumbs we flung before the little ones could get them. On the way back we stopped at the Kauai Chocolate Company—talk about temptation! That night we had dinner at Brennecke’s, a seaside table at an open-air restaurant with a great view of the sunset.

Anni Beach

The next day we went to the north end of the island. High point of that trip for me was seeing Anni Beach where South Pacific was filmed. Now we have to watch the movie again. The landscape was a bit different, and the houses reminded me more of Galveston. We did go by the hotel—now the St. Regis but then something different—where my oldest daughter and her husband honeymooned.

Hawaiians seem to live with one eye on the weather. One day we heard sirens, and Martha was worried—they have been through two tsunami alerts which meant they had to drive inland, once spending the night in their car in a shopping mall parking lot. This time it was merely the noon sirens. On the way to Princeville we went over a wooden bridge that she said they close when it rains hard.

I loved our time on Kauai and would go back in a heartbeat.

Frustration: some of my pictures are in my camera, but I discovered when I went to download them that someone had chewed the cord that connects the camera to the computer—I suspect a certain dog. Monday: a trip to Sony to get a new cord. Jordan got some great pictures that I didn’t, but images from her cell phone won’t download to my phone, computer, anything. I may be posting images for weeks when I finally get them. Tomorrow or Monday, impressions of Maui.

A confession, Hawaii—and my daughter

To those who read this regularly, an apology. When I said I was taking a break, I didn’t tell the full story. Two years ago, my two oldest children took me on a wonderful trip to Scotland. Last week, my youngest daughter took me for a week in Hawaii (we landed at five a.m. this morning!). All the kids know I’m an uncertain traveler at best. I’ve gotten much calmer about flying, but I am anxious in airports, on escalators, going through security, etc. They manage a nice balance of taking care of me without letting me become dependant—which I try not to do but sometimes I am overwhelmed and reach out for a steadying arm.

Jordan is a travel agent and, by extension, a professional traveler. She knows the ins and outs of airports, security check-in, off-site parking, car rental, all that rigmarole that confuses me utterly. We had a seamless trip with four plane boardings, a rented car, off-site parking at the DFW airport. I was mightily impressed by her knowledge of everything from what to tip to what to look for in a hotel and by the way she uses that old saying my mom taught me (and I suppose her): you catch more flies with a teaspoon of sugar than a cup or vinegar. Jordan charms her way through life. And as she said to me once after the two of us took a one-day necessary trip to Houston and back, “It’s a good thing we like each other.”

Scotland was always my dream destination; Hawaii never entered my consideration. We went because dear but distant friends of fifty years (gulp!) have a condo on Kauai and invited us, so we spent four nights there and three on Maui so Jordan could explore some sites for future clients and familiarize herself with the islands. And we had quite an education.

I suppose you see a place in context of what you know. Jordan said Hawaii with its lush shores and sometimes bare mountains reminded her of northern California; small communities nestled in the foothills of some of those mountains spoke to me of Colorado. I was attracted to the simple design of houses on South Kauai and then realized they reminded me of the Craftsman architecture about which I write. I suppose in reality they reflect the simple taste of the missionaries who “civilized” the islands.

But Hawaii truly is a unique paradise as it’s billed. The people are warm and friendly and when they say “Aloha” or Mahalo,” they mean it. They are conscious of their environment—you don’t see trash along highways at all; wide bike lanes provide safety for riders; people often pull off the road to park, even camp, at small strips of beach; hotels and other public buildings are open air—no doors or windows in lobbies, etc. (I almost wished it would rain hard so I could see how they cope). Hawaiians are, however, conscious of their privacy, and a lot of houses I would like to have seen were hidden by the privacy of a concrete block wall (erected since a bad hurricane) or thick foliage.

Flowers everywhere, and trees I’d never seen—one I can’t name in which the leaves branched out from the trunk in horizontal planes. The wiliwili or twisted tree is an indigenous and endangered flowering tree now the subject of a strong conservation effort. And firs and pines abound, along of course with the ubiquitous palm trees. Yes, we got leis—some authentic ones from our friends (below) that I can’t describe and at the hotel on Maui, the orchid leis.

The langugae baffled both of us. I am never comfortable speaking a foreign language though I can muddle through reading French and Spanish, but Hawaiian is beyond me. It's that dipthong that isn't quite what it seems--Li'hue is Le-hooey (rhymes with phooey), Ka'annapoli has just that slight hesitation between the two letters "a." And the spelling of many of them is difficult though Poipu beach comes out sounding much like it's spelled. I still don't know the name of the airport city in Maui.

The things I liked best: chocolate covered macadamia nuts, wonderfully sweet fruit, the abundance of fresh fish—some such as ono which I’d never heard of, the constantly changing landscape, and of course the ocean. Okay, it did remind me of Lake Michigan, but the ocean had whales! Big difference.

If you can bear with me in the next couple of days I’ll sketch our adventures in Kauai and Maui. It was a wonderful adventure but, as always, I’m glad to be home and to be greeted by an exuberantly enthusiastic dog—nice to be missed.