My thoughts on Hillary Clinton

Nancy Reagan endorsed Hillary yesterday, so in the face of that unexpected but important support, I doubt my opinion makes much difference to the newly announced candidate. For months I've been lukewarm about this candidacy, figuring she had too much baggage--including her husband. Don't get me wrong--I thought he was a good president and he has done much good for the world since he left office. But some folk will never forget Monica. And then for Hillary, there's Benghazi which has been investigated to death but the conservatives cling to it like a bulldog with a bone, and those private emails--name me a politician on either side of the aisle who doesn't have private emails. Still, those issues could drag her down.
I resisted the "draft Elizabeth Warren" movement because I think she's much more effective in the Senate, and while I really like Bernie Sanders' ideas, I'm realist enough to know he wouldn't win. My son-in-law said scornfully, "He's a socialist," and when I replied, "I know. That's why I like him," even my daughter (who should be used to my views) scoffed. So I guessed I was a reluctant Hillary supporter.
But yesterday, after her low-key announcement and her emphasis on being the champion of every American, I'm much more enthusiastic. We need someone to fight for the poor, the underserved medically, those who have had dramatic cuts to their benefits and raises to their taxes. In short, we need to restore the distribution of wealth in this country, and if that's to be her focus, God bless her. She has a long record of dedication to us everyday folks, and apparently she's not going to abandon it, even while Republicans clamor about foreign policy and other matters on which they have no platform, no consensus.
It's going to be a long and bitter campaign, and Hillary's opponents are going to lie, deceive, throw everything at her they can. I have faith that she's tough enough to take it, but I also like that her announcement reminded us she is a grandmother. She's a tough woman, with a softer side, and I admire that.
I hope she can keep her head up and take the high road. She would be a blessing to this country, which badly needs blessings.

A Fishy Weekend

Smoked salmon, potato salad, and crème fraiche

My friend Linda from Granbury was my houseguest last night--she had an afternoon class at TCU yesterday and a make-up class this afternoon, so she spent the night. I warned her she was in for a fishy weekend--and a cooking weekend for me. Last night we had a smoked salmon/cream cheese/sour cream/anchovy appetizer, followed by pasta in an anchovy sauce--one of those where you make a sauce of olive oil and whatever, dump in the cooked spaghetti and then add egg yolks beaten with water. I love watching that watery mess thicken up to a golden sauce that coats the noodles perfectly. This was particularly good. Jacob dumped his green peas into his pasta (sans sauce) at Linda's suggestion and declared it delicious.
For breakfast Jacob ate two waffles and two scrambled eggs, while Linda and I had cinnamon raisin English muffins. Jacob went home with his dad after church, and Linda and I had Tonino's tuna marinated in olive oil and oregano, on cottage cheese. If you have not discovered Tonino's, and you like tuna, I urge you to look in the canned meat department at Central Market. It comes in small, expensive jars but is so good!
The best thing about the evening was Jacob. When he and I are here alone, we eat in my office and don't talk much. Last night, he ate at the table, didn't ask to be excused early, carried on a great conversation with Linda, and then while I did dishes, they went for a long walk. This morning, first words out of his mouth were, "Where's Linda?" She was in the sunroom reading, so he went back and had a great conversation. When I asked what they wanted for breakfast, he said something about Alexander the Great. I asked what that had to do with breakfast, and he said condescendingly, "We were talking about history." After breakfast, they went for another long walk. Then we went to church, which was particularly inspiring this morning.
Tonight friends Subie and Phil came for supper--more fish. We finished the salmon dip left from last night, and the entrée was a platter of smoked salmon ringing a mound of potato salad (tiny new potatoes), drizzled with crème fraiche seasoned with horseradish, and garnished with liberal sprinklings of chopped dill. Subie pronounced it a very Scandinavian dish--and of course it was: fish, potatoes, and berries (she brought a wonderful fruit dish of raspberries and blueberries). Designed to serve six--we ate every bite. Cocktails on the deck, where it was most pleasant--I hadn't thought about cleaning the table because it was supposed to rain but no rain so far.
So it was a lovely cooking weekend. My back didn't hurt as much as it has, and I enjoyed fixing food--I always do. But maybe the best part was the interaction between Jacob and Linda--he was so grown-up, so gentlemanly, and so polite.
When he was perhaps three, he took Linda on a walk across the street to see Lily B. Clayton Elementary and assured her this was where he was going to school. She asked if he'd talked to his parents about that, but she said he was absolutely sure that was where he would go. And guess what? He's finishing third grade there. I think every child needs a non-family adult who dotes on him--I had that luxury as a child, and Jacob has several, but Linda is special. For her, it fulfills a need to touch and be close to a grandchild--hers live in Cleveland and Philadelphia.
A thoroughly satisfying weekend. No, I didn't write my thousand words today, but I did yesterday.

These are the things that irritate me

You know that wonderful song that Julie Andrews sings in The Sound of Music? "These are a few of the things I love." It irritates me that all I can think after reading the newspaper, such as it is, and watching TV news, is "These are a few of the things that irritate me," a curmudgeonly point of view at best.
One is states passing religious freedom bills actually designed to isolate our LBGT population. Such virulent hate. A Catholic bishop said it was a just reaction because if you baked the cake, you became a participant in the marriage. A Facebook cartoon asked if it logically followed that if a gun store owner sold a gun used in a murder, was he then a participant in the murder? For Lord's sake, people, let others do what they want and tend to your own cabbage patch.
Similarly, the war on the poor disturbs me. Again, it's based on irrational hate. Forbidding welfare recipients to use food stamps to book a cruise makes sense except that it's completely illogical. How many welfare families do you think book cruises? Hey, folks, they're just trying to scrape by. Yes, I read about the welfare recipient who planned to take a $14,000 trip to Vegas--can't remember the story. But forbidding the poor to buy steaks and seafood, to go swimming, to do a lot of things that most of us regard as normal? That's perpetuating the cycle by putting the burden on their children--besides, fish is healthy and not always that expensive. No, you don't have to eat lobster.
Today, on International Autism Day, the governor of Illinois (my once-home state) announced a cutback in funds to deal with autism. Great timing, Governor whatever-your name is!)
Fracking concerns me greatly--I read statistics on the number of earthquakes in Oklahoma before fracking and the number now--absolutely mind-blowing. But I know it's true in North Texas too, and now I read that fracking is increasing radon levels. Wonderful! I firmly believe if you mess with Mother Nature, she'll win in the end.
Guns on campuses--I think this must have been proposed by someone who had no college-age kids. I had four of them, and I'm not sure I'd have all of them today if there had been guns on the TCU campus, at football games and frat parties College kids are great, for the most part young people finding and forming themselves, but they aren't quite in control yet. Give them guns and a little alcohol, and it's like a recipe for a fertilizer bomb.
And then there's Senator Tom Cotton--what can I say? Why hasn't somebody investigated him for ethics--or low IQ--or something?
Other times I see glimmers of hope. A Catholic high school in West Des Moines refused to hire a teacher once they knew he was gay. Students and a significant number of parents protested the discrimination, and the teacher was hired. Sometimes I think the young people of America are going to save us.
On a personal note, I didn't mean to unload so much of my personal angst in last night's blog, but I am amazed and eternally grateful for the support and offers of help. Believe me, it's getting better. With a humble thank you, good night.
 

Oh my goodness! A week of "those days"

It has been the week that was. I did report that I went to an antique mall on Monday--what I didn't report was that I was a bundle of anxiety the whole time, with extreme symptoms from shaky hands to things we don't need to talk about. Tuesday morning I woke anxious but suddenly mid-morning I felt a sense of calm--I call it a convergence between medication and God's grace. I knew that I had broken the back of this particular anxiety spell--which at more than a week had gone on way too long.
But the Lord wasn't through with me. One of the things my physical therapist recommended was a portable seat heater in the car--plugs in to the charger holder. I needed heat for 15 minutes--takes me 20 to get to my daughter's house, so I turned it on both going and coming Sunday night. And left it plugged in! Realized Monday morning and rushed out to unplug it. Started the car and it was fine--I'm just not smart enough to know that I should have left it running for 30 minutes.
Tuesday, I had a wonderful, laughing happy lunch with Melinda, from my former officemate--we really enjoy our outings! But Tuesday night when I got into the car to go to supper, the battery was dead. Friends picked me up, and I enjoyed supper, planning to worry about the battery the next day.
Wed. Jordan dropped me at Physical Therapy for my first real session--and I'm here to tell you it's tiring. An hour and a quarter that begins with soothing heat and ultrasound and then progresses to endless gentle exercises--gentle but cumulative. I did learn the proper way to use my cane--though it sure feels awkward. The good news is that my back pain is less, and my balance may be a scosh better. I have ten sessions to go, and I think this is going to help.
My insurance roadside service fixed the car promptly--the gentlemen opened the hood of the car, and I called, "Oh, no! It's under the back seat." His gentle reply was something to the effect of "I'm looking at it." He got it started and instructed me to leave it run for 30 minutes--I was working so didn't particularly want to drive around for 30 minutes. I pulled it to one side of the driveway and locked the gate, but it made me nervous. Not sure where I got the idea it was under the back seat--maybe my last VW?
All's well that ends well--nobody stole the car, and this morning it turned over promptly to get me to the grocery. Yes, I was a tad nervous about going to the grocery--like a first outing by myself since a couple of bad anxiety attacks, but I can tell the difference in how I feel. Well-meaning friends (and my child) have suggested that when I freeze trying to walk down the driveway or across the parking lot I just pump my legs up and down. They don't understand freeze means freeze. I simply can't. But today I can. It will take a bit to recover lost territory, but I'm on my way. Praise be! I am so grateful.





 

With every season.....

Please welcome Jennifer Anderson, my Wednesday guest. Ref, chauffer, master chef and booboo kisser. When she’s not wielding her super mom powers, she likes to weave sentences together and offer a little escape to readers. You can usually find her sitting in the dark in front of her computer, falling in love with her characters. Send chocolate!
Today she talks about change—in real life and in fiction.

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With Every Season...

The seasons may do it four times a year, but we as humans experience change on a more rapid pace, if not daily. And some handle it better than others. My husband, for example. I love him to pieces and over the twenty-plus years together, I know this little trait about him and try to soften the blow when I know I’m about to change up his routine.
But I feel I’m a happy-go-lucky kind of girl and crave change. Or at least, I thought I did. I blame getting older or maybe just the current age I’m in where I have three kids who are constantly changing.
Ding. Ding.
My oldest daughter is thirteen going on twenty-three, and she’s making plans for high school *gasps*. During her 7^th- and 8^th- grade years, she’s allowed to shadow a high school girl at one of our local Catholic High Schools, deciding whether or not she wants to attend their school when she graduates *grabs chest*.
When did my baby become a teenager looking at high schools? Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was giving her baths in the kitchen sink and reading her bedtime stories? Next, she’ll be driving a car, going on dates, prom, high school graduation and then she’ll want to look at colleges. The nerve!
So while I might think I’m strong and brave when it comes to change, my inner mommy is cowering in a corner, rocking back-and-forth crying in her empty glass of pinot.
Lucky for me, good fiction should tell a different story. A heroine/hero is faced with a change (death, affair, end of the world) in their life and we want to see them push past the difficulty and succeed. In Finding You, a bomb is dropped in Jessica’s lap. How she deals with the news tells us how strong she is and if she’s adaptable.

Finding You

Jessica Crispin sets out to find her mom but discovers more than she planned.

A long-lost grandfather dies, leaving Jessica Crispin a sizable inheritance. The only catch? She has to find her mom, whom she hasn’t seen since she was two, and she only has thirty days to do it.
Enlisting her best friend Violet, Jessica sets out on a road trip determined to solve a mystery fed by deceit and misinformation from people she thought she could trust.
On the way, she meets Jackson, whose kindness and sexy pale blue eyes make her wish he would come along for the ride.
Clues from her mother lead her far from home and to a secret Jessica never imagined. And as the deadline looms, Jessica must make peace with the ghosts of her past and risk dreaming of a future pursuing her secret passion with Jackson by her side.
Find Jennifer at Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5326672.Jennifer_Anderson;

Website (http://jenandersonauthor.com/)

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An Antique Mall and the rivalry of two cities

Margaret Hunt Hill Bridge, Dallas

A dear friend of mine has a booth at an antique mall in Dallas, and two friends and I met her there for lunch and a look at her goods. Antique malls are not my thing--there are so many tables and cabinets loaded with breakables and so close together that with my unsteady balance right now I was sure I'd go crashing into something. I clung to Carol who understood and was kind about it.
The mall has a small tea room, and we had a delicious lunch--stuffed avocadoes. They all chose chicken salad but I stuck with my tuna, and it was good. A terrific Caesar salad--not really a traditional Caesar but one of the best salads I've had in a long time--and fruit on the lunch plate. Lovely meal and good time catching up with good and longtime friends--though we did note that we talked about illness and death a lot. It's the age we are--at least two of us and it's fairly discouraging. But we also caught up with children and grandchildren and daily doings and had some good laughs.
Then we shopped in Kathie's booth, where she assured me she had a chair, and I could point with my cane at things I liked--I had a $15 gift certificate. I came away with a prize--a cane with a Bakelite handle, a rather dignified cane or as Carol called it a formal one. Bakelite is now collectible, so I thought it was grand. I think it's a bit too tall, but it can be cut down.
I don't go to Dallas often and saw some sights and parts I'd never seen before--I think the mall is on Forest Lane, but don't try to go there by my directions. Carol's a back road person and knows Dallas well enough that she wove in and out avoiding I-35's congestion. We ended up in Uptown (I think) and drove by Claiborne Park (I'm also not sure that's the name but it's a scenic area that gives all those apartment dwellers a green space in which to walk, sit and enjoy the sunshine, whatever). It also has a restaurant that Carol said we must try next time. Then we drove on the innovative Margaret Hunt Hill Bridge, and Carol pointed out the old bridge which has been turned into a park-like area, with a fountain area that drains into a kiddie wading pool below. Impressive to see what Dallas is doing to green up their city.
There's that old rivalry between Dallas and Fort Worth, so I said something to the effect that Dallas was better than I remembered. Carol replied that folks in the two cities will never think the same but there are some really positive things about Dallas. She should know--she worked there for years. I'll still take Fort Worth any day--love my city--but this was an interesting day.
Home in time for Jacob, homework, happy hour and an evening of writing.

Hallelujah!

Easter morning, 2:00 a.m. - pouring rain, thunder in the distance; Easter morning, 5:30 a.m., alarm clock goes off, drawing me out of a funky dream about returning to the small Missouri town where I went to graduate school; still pouring rain. Sophie does NOT want to go outside but I insist. Easter morning, 6:40, just as friends come to pick me up for sunrise service, which will obviously not see a sunrise, it stops pouring and downgrades to a sprinkle.

Top picture 2015
bottom 2014

The morning service is inside the chapel, and it still has the small feeling of intimacy, of sharing with a few select others the joyous news of Jesus having risen. But I miss the garden setting and the sense of watching daylight arrive to announce the good news. The music is beautiful--they're singing "Jesus Christ is Risen today" as we arrive--a bit late--and I find my family, with seats saved for all of us. The sermon is inspiring, and the final hymn, "In the Garden," has special meaning for me--it always made my mom cry because she had a brother who died at 20 or 22 or something (long before my birth) and they sang it at his funeral. So the chorus is one I know by heart and love. Communion requires a trip to the altar, and because my balance is so shaky I don't go, but then I am shamed by a woman who arrived in a wheelchair and abandoned it to walk, with difficulty, from pew to pew to partake of the holy feast. Jordan brings me a bit of the bread, so I feel I have taken communion.
Following this joyful yet restrained service, joy reigns as Jacob and Eva, both eight and best of friends, search for eggs at my house. I am nursing my back, and Jordan and Christian do most of the cooking; Marj cuts up fruit. Christian has made a scrumptious potato casserole, and while I planned to scramble the eggs,  he took it on and did a fine job. I had gotten hot cross buns which I adore--Coleman ate one, Jacob had one on his plate though I'm not sure he ate it, and I had a half. They not only bring back Easter memories but they remind me of the Christmas cakes my mom made, I adored, and none of my children will eat.
By ten, dishes are soaking and everyone is gone; by eleven, I've loaded and started the dishwasher, though somewhere along there my persistent chronic back pain settled in one hip and made each step painful. I go to bed with the heating pad, then back up to answer emails, read Facebook and the Sunday paper, and begin this blog which is already too long.
From there, the day was one of sleep, which I guess does knit the raveled sleeve of care. Back to bed, but I rouse myself to make it to Jordan and Christian's by four-thirty, expecting to be just in time for Easter dinner. It was five-thirty before we ate--delicious fajitas (I eat the insides but not the tortilla) and I opt out of dessert. Home, a bit at my computer and back in bed by seven-thirty.
Easter night, almost ten: rouse myself to find a good, devoted dog sleeping by my side. Let her out and give her a treat, make my toilette, and head for bed again. Hip pain which was almost intolerable in the late morning is almost gone. I'm a big advocate of sleep. God works in mysterious ways, just like Mom always told me.
I am so blessed with family and love and church. It's a thankful, worshipful Easter. Hope the same for you each and every one.

Twas the Night before Easter...or the second night of Passover

The night before Easter at my house is sort of like Christmas Eve. Shhh, don't tell Jacob but the Easter Bunny visited just after he left following supper. The house is decorated, and now the problem is to make sure Sophie doesn't think the eggs are for her. The table is set for breakfast, and Christian brought a potato casserole--so rich with sour cream and butter and cheese that I will only allow myself one bite. Everything is laid out and ready, and Jordan left me with great warnings to go to bed early because we're going to sunrise service at 6:45.
She and I were enjoying an after-dinner glass of wine when I startled and said I thought I saw a bolt of lightning. And then we both heard it--thunder. She was out the door and headed home in a flash. I wish our much-needed rain would come Monday instead of Sunday, but I guess we have to believe the Lord knows what he's doing. Sunrise service will be inside, which is a disappointment because I love to see the daylight come while we worship. But the rain will be so significant as part of spring's new start.
Texas has two good seasons--spring and fall, and spring is by far my personal favorite. I love the light green of new leaves, the brightness of my redbud tree, the flowering trees all over town. When my children were young we went to North Carolina for the spring bloom, where redbud and dogwood abound. Redbud does well here, but only a few hardy dogwoods survive to bloom.
Greg, my gardening neighbor, and I are full of plans for my yard, including ferns which I have always loved, oak leaf hydrangeas, which he assures me will disguise the hurricane fence in the back, and coral honeysuckle to brighten the fence between my dog yard and driveway. I don't garden--used to but was never one who felt renewed by mucking in the dirt. These days my back won't let me garden--or sweep or mop floors or any of those things I don't want to do.
I've been fighting back pain and balance issues recently, and I decided tonight I might better quit fighting and go with the flow. Part of it has to do with faith in the physical therapy program, but I think part of it also has to do with my spiritual faith. Perhaps fighting--which means tightening up--actually increases the problems. It may not sound like a big deal, but I walked down to get the newspaper in the middle of the sidewalk today. Then Jordan and I went for a short (very short) walk.
So like trees budding out, I'm going to loosen up, go with the time of renewal, and let the good Lord help me heal.
And so, my friends, I wish you all Happy Easter, Blessed Passover, or if it suits you joy in the new start that springtime brings. Peace.

Flat Stanley and other tales

If you have children or grandchildren, you probably know about Flat Stanley of the book by that name (I keep wanting to call him Flat Freddy--rolls off the tongue so much more easily). Stanley woke up flat one day and has been sent all over by devoted schoolchildren, who each made their on version. Jacob sent his to Houston and New York relatives who obligingly toured him around and photographed him with all the sights. The New York cousins sent flat versions of two of their children--Ayla and William--so Jordan felt we should show these flat relatives Fort Worth. And one place we had to go was Angelo's BBQ because in his rare visits to Fort Worth from NYC Uncle Mark has eaten tons of Angelo's barbecue. He writes about it, longs for it--in fact, he might come back to FW sometime for the barbecue rather than to see us.
So the other night we took William and Ayla to Angelo's. I haven't been there in years, since a competitor opened up closer to home. But I remember the days when Angelo's had sawdust on the floor--fire department made them stop that. Nothing much had changed except that you no longer pick up your cole slaw and potato salad while waiting in line. The stuffed bear still greets you at the door. Jordan took a picture of William and Ayla with the bear and then the above one of me. (She had looked at me before we went to supper and said, "Colorful. Is that your dinner shirt?" I assured it was and protested, "We're only going to Angelo's.")
Last night's dining adventure was the Kona Grill, which I understand is a chain but new to Fort Worth. In a Hawaiian restaurant, I ordered meatloaf--okay it was called Big Island meatloaf. Good last night, much better cold at lunch today. Betty had a shrimp dish with what looked like glass noodles and declared it delicious. She loves shrimp and delights in eating it in front of me because I'm allergic. But as we went in, she said to me, "I suddenly feel ancient." I think it's a great singles bar, maybe not so cool for two old ladies having dinner.
And tonight's dinner was a bust. A friend who loves pasta came for what I assumed was just a casual weeknight dinner. Turns out today is her birthday, which she doesn't like to celebrate. My pasta dish was, to me, unsuccessful--sauce of butter, garlic, anchovies and fresh tomatoes cooked down. I couldn't taste the garlic or anchovies but sure could taste the fresh parsley--somehow my Italian parsley survived the past winter. Further, the dish was hard to serve and harder to eat, and I got it all over my shirt. One recipe that went into the recycle bin. And I'd so been looking forward to trying it. Oh well, we all have our kitchen mistakes.

A pain of a day

Actually it wasn't that bad at all. I've been dealing with moderate to severe back pain for a long time. It particularly bothers me when I cook--and I love to cook and feed people. For some time now I've done what I could in about twenty minutes, then retreated to sit down. After a ten minute break, I go back to the kitchen. Such a routine makes you rethink your cooking, believe me. But my back also hurts when I unload the bottom rack of the dishwasher or make a bed or any number of other household chores. Not a way to grow old gracefully.
So I went to my favorite osteopathic physician (next to my brother, that is) and he recommended a doctor who knows about braces. That doctor seemed much less interested in my pain than in the fact that I sat down, ungracefully, in the driveway a week or so ago. And truth be told I'd been nervous about my walking since and my left hip still hurts. He did tell me to order a brace, which I did--it came embarrassingly far from meeting around my middle, so I ordered a larger size, which arrived today and will do the trick I think. Note to self: wear an apron over the belt when cooking--bacon splatters not needed.
But this new doctor recommended physical therapy, something I never thought I needed between osteopathic treatments and yoga. But I found a clinic that has a program for helping the elderly prevent falls (oh! so hard to classify yourself that way!), so today was my first appointment. Let's just say I went with fear and trembling in my soul. I was afraid I would be fearful of walking from the car to the door--no problem. Handicapped places are literally right next to the front door. Then I was so nervous my handwriting was illegible. I brought the form home to fill out.
I was there almost an hour and a half. The first visit is of course taken up with intake information, but the PT gave me a pictorial rundown of what's going on with my back--long story short, it's stiff. But my legs are strong, I'm in good health, and I don't have vertigo--all good signs for restoring balance and confidence, the PT said.
I'm a convert. The heat treatment was incredibly relaxing and soothing, and so was the soft tissue rubbing. I left with exercises to do--I intend to be faithful about them--and a recommendation for heat 15 minutes a day. Tonight I think my back feels a tad better, and I walked from the parking lot to the garage without grabbing my friend's arm. Pretty much I was okay--certainly better than I have been.
Betty and I went to the Kona Grill tonight--I knew she wanted to go because the Hawaiian menu had lots of shrimp, and indeed she ordered a shrimp and glass noodle dish which she said was delicious. Strange to have meatloaf in a Hawaiian restaurant but that's what I had--with steamed broccoli and mushrooms. It was good, but I stopped eating in time to bring some home for  lunch.