A Day of Contradictory Adventures

When Jacob woke up this morning, almost the first thing he asked was, "Are we going to church?" I said yes, and he asked, "Now?" I told him it was a bit early--7:15 for an 11:00 service. Thereafter he asked constantly, and when once I said "One more hour," he threw up his hands and said, "Oh, man!" Well, we got to church, parked with the valet, and made out way to the 4-year-old Sunday school. That child, who had been so excited about church, suddenly grew shy beyond belief--he hid his face in my clothes, he clung to me, he refused to answer questions from the teacher, who was a very kind woman. We comforted and cajoled, all to no avail. I offered to take his hand and walk him into the room where other children were playing. That was okay for a minute, until the teacher swooped him up in her arms (no small feat as heavy as he is) and hugged him. I thought for a minute we were home free, but he began to sob and reach for me and cry, "I want to go home." So go home we did. I paid $2 for valet parking for ten minutes. Once at home, he said, "I want t go to church." I said no, because he had cried. He said, "I won't cry." We have worked out sort of a compromise--we'll try it next week, but I plan  to take a book and stay in the schoolroom as long as I need to. He promises he won't be shy or cry--but that was in the comfort circle of his parents and his Juju.
We came home, and I seasoned the ground lamb for burgers tonight--more about that in a minute. Then I asked if he wanted to go get a hot dog. There's a drive-up stand not too far away that sells hot dogs and frozen custards. Jacob said he wanted a milkshake when I asked, so I ordered two hot dogs and a kids shake.
Jacob: I don't want a hot dog.
Juju: You said you did.
Jacob: I said I didn't.
Juju, to the person at the window: Never mind.
Jacob: What about my milkshake?
So I ordered a kids milkshake and a hot dog for myself with kraut. On the way home, was had the following conversation:
Jacob: I want a hot dog.
Juju: No, you said you didn't, and I only got one for myself. I'll fix you chicken nuggets.
Jacob: I don't want chicken nuggets. Will you share your hot dog?
Juju: No, because you said you didn't want one. And anyway mine has sauerkraut on it, and you wouldn't like it.
When we got home he wanted to see my hot dog and, on looking at the kraut, said, "That's yucky." So when his mom called at five I reported he had three waffles with chocolate chips and a chocolate shake to eat all day. He did eat a pretty good amount of his lamburger for dinner.
The lamburgers were delicious--the recipe called for chopped fresh mint (of which I have an abundance), cayenne, cinnamon, salt and pepper. You pan fry the burgers in olive oil, and dress with lettuce, red onion, feta, and hummus. Of course, Jordan had to cook hers until it was lifeless, but mine was delicious.I ate half and saved half for tomorrow. The recipe called for melting the feta, but we decided that would make a mess and just put it beneath the burger. They were, I confess, hard to eat--so thick! But worth it.
Not a lick of work done this weekend but tomorrow it's back to the pattern I've established--work on the nonfiction project in the day and the fiction in the evening. Meanwhile, tonight, I'm going to keep reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo--it really is as good as Megan said and as all the reviews I've read have said.
A technological triumph: last night while Jacob and I were at dinner, my access to Outlook disconnected--I couldn't get on through the web, through my TCU connection at home, through the desktop at TCU or the generic TCU connection they've given me. I thought the whole system was down, but I called a friend who said hers worked fine. So I unfroze my account plus changed my password, and it works again. A relief, plus I do feel a bit like a tecchie.Simple, I know but hey, I figure it out myself!

An adventure with Jacob

Since I have Jacob from about 11:30 this morning until supper time tomorrow night, I thought we should get out of the house. So proposed an adventure for us--dinner at an Italian/Lebanese restaurant down the street. At first he said he didn't want a 'venture, but then he said he wanted to go to a restaurant "in a minute." We drove there with the top down--much easier to buckle him in that way and he loved it. Once there, he turned shy and wouldn't speak to anyone; he did decide he wanted spaghetti with meat sauce, so we split that. He didn't like it because it wasn't red; then he didn't like it because it had red spots in it (go figure!). I ordered Sprite for him, which he declared he loves--when he tasted it, turns out he was right. It wasn't Sprite, it was water. Finally, since I'd eaten most of meat sauce out of my bowl, I traded with him (brought his home) and the waitress and I cajoled him into eating five bites of fairly plain noodles so he could have 'ssert. He liked the cannoli but who could eat a whole one? Too sweet and rich, so much of that came home with us.
Coming home he wanted the top up, so I buckled him in, started to back out, and he said, "Why is the top up?" I told him because he asked for that, and he said, "But I want it down." I told him it was too late.
I'm exhuasted.
Tomorrow, we're going to try church and maybe Curley's for a hot dog and frozen custard.
I have to remind myself that I used to take four children all over by myself and never thought anything about it, but I think that leads me back to the argument my children never understand--four are easier than one or two. And besides, I was thirty years or more younger.

Desserts--heaven help me!

Two of my favorite days each month are the days Bon Appetit and Southern Living arrive in my mailbox. They're usually a couple of days apart,which gives me time to savor each magazine. My habit is to read through them, either mark or tear out the recipes I know instantly I want, and then go back, leisurely, to study them again. After that, I resolutely make myself throw them away. I used to save Bon Appetit, until my collection grew out of hand, and I knew I'd never go back to any specific issue again. Now the only old issue I keep is one on Scotland and its food.
Southern Living came today, and I was astounded that all the recipes I pulled were for dessert, something I usually don't offer guests. But who could resist chocolate truffle bites (melted chocolate in small cups of pie dough baked in a muffin tin, topped with whipped cream, and garnished with chocolate shavings), or small cream puffs filled with coffee whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate syrup, or banana puddings, individual, baked with a meringue topping. From a Kraft Kitchen magazine yesterday, I had pulled an ice cream cake--looked more like a bombe or even a baked Alaska to me. You line glass bowl with plastic wrap, put in 2 cups softened raspberry sherbet, top with crushed Oreos, 2 cups chocolate ice cream, more Oreos, 2 cups vanilla ice cream and more Oreos. Freeeze four hours, unwrap, and "ice" with cool whip and decorate with toasted cocoanut. I think many of my kids will be here on the weekend of June 11, and I'm wondering if Maddie and I would have time to freeze the dessert and have it ready for supper. Me, who will tell you I don't have a sweet tooth unless chocolate is involved!
In spite of this new obsession, I lost 2 lbs. last week. Realized going off Weight Watchers did not mean a free ticket and went back to my old, more careful eating habits. Sigh. I guess chocolate mousse is a thing of my past. And maybe dinners at Joe T.'s.
I've started reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Sieg Larsson. I gave it to Megan for Christmas a couple of years ago, and she was so long in picking it up that I decided it was a poor choice of a gift. But once she got into it, she was enthralled.She ordered the second book for her Kindle, and the third, I think, in hard cover. Sadly Steig Larsson died of a heart attack at the age of fifty, just after submitting these three manuscripts. I am not far into the first one, but I'm hooked.

Power of suggestion, a lost book, and some real work

Here, at last, are photos of the new chairs, below, and the "bistro set" above to show how well they match. And all are very comfortable. My porch reallyl looks great these days, but tonight, again, there was not one bit of breeze--and there were bugs. I've bought citronella candles but a fancy kind I'm not sure how to use. Filled with liquid, they're supposed to burn for 50 hours--if I can ever get them lit. I should learn to stick with simple.

This morning when I went to Central Market a guest on the Diane Rehm show was talking about his new book (sorry, but I think the title is Bottled and Sold) about the unnecessary energy used to create bottles for bottled water, the terrible waste because so few bottles are recyled, and the fact that tap water is every bit as pure and good for you and that we have a right to free, clean, pure water. (My daughters and daughters-in-law who would not dream of drinking tap water need read this book--one day, Edie came home from school and complained to her mother that she wouldn't believe what the teacher made them do that day. Alarmed, Mel asked, "What?" and Edie replied, "She made us drink sink water!"--what a comment on our culture.) Anyway opposite this man was a representative of the bottled water industry, and the conversation was lively and interesting. You would not believe how thirsty I got driving along listening to them--and I had no bottled water or other kind in the car. Went shopping and forgot all about it, but I had a short list and got out of there for under $30--when I often spend $70 or $80 and that's only half my weekly shopping--the kids are getting lamb burgers Sunday night!). So these two guys were still on talking about water when I drove home, and once again I got unbearably thirsty but forgot it when I got home. Just now, however, writing about it, I had to go get a drink of water. I truly don't drink enough water during the day and keep trying to work on that.
Last night I "lost" a book I was looking for as research for a project I'm working on. As one can imagine, after years in writing and publishing, I have a lot of books, spread in bookcases all over the house. Someone asked me recently how I arrange them, and the true answer is, "Wherever they'll fit." The books in the upper part of my mom's secretary in my bedroom are ones by good friends of mine (a lot of Elmer Kelton, Jeanne Williams, Joyce Roach and Bob Flynn); the ones in the glass-fronted bookcase in the dining rooms are ones that I consider special for one reason or another, though I noticed some ringers in there. The particular book I was looking for was published by TCU Press and is one of my favorites but I looked everywhere three times and didn't find it. Gave up for the night. Today I found it, at eye level, in the bookcase right across from my desk.
I remember a couple of years ago when Ron and Paula Tyler moved back to Fort Worth, and Paula said she promised Ron that one thing she would do for him was catalog his books.Hmm, I wonder if she's for hire.
Finding that book sort of spurred me on again, and I wrote quite a bit on this sample chapter, though I have miles to go. Now I've run out of steam and am going for a nap, but tonight I'll work on the novel. I gave Fred the first 15,000 words, and he wrote today that he's already started it and is intrigued.
Sushi tonight with Betty--I had a new dish called Tower Roll, with "spicy" salmon--I love salmon sashimi but prefer it non-spicy, and these were hard to dip into a soy/wasabi sauce, plus a pomegranite sauce gave it a vague sweetness I wasn't fond of. Not my favorite dish, but I did love the tempura crunch that went with it. When we talked into the Tokoyo Cafe it smelled like frying, and I said I smelled tempura; maybe it was this dish, which I imagine was simply fried panko, but it was good. Next time: salmon sashimi (see above where I said I should learn to stick to simple things!)

Porch time and trying to dig into a new project

Well, darn. I specifically went out tonight to take pictures of the new chairs and uploaded (downloaded?) them from the camera, saw that they were next to pictures of the new "bistro set" so I could show how they match. But now I can't find a one of them on the computer. Trust me. They're neat, comfortable stack chairs, aluminun frames (anonydized or something so they look like metal but won't rust), mesh seat and back, and they do match. Now my porch is quite sophisticated. I sat out there for a bit tonight but it was muggy (maybe because I'd just drenched all the plants and much of the porch--my sweet potato plants are my barometer; when they begin to wilt, I water everything heavily except the cactus). But the last few evenings, there's been a really nice breeze--tonight not one leaf was moving anywhere. Everything was lush and green, between all the rain and my watering, but it wasn't as pleasant as it has been, and I didn't read long.
Today I've tried hard to come to grips with my new project. Beginnings are always hard, but I've made some phone calls, arranged a couple of lunches, and decided on the format of my proposal and the chapter I'll send as part of the proposal. I've written a tentative table of contents and a sketchy introduction. The sample chapter will be one for which I've already done some research and even written a brief article, but I need to flesh it out. It might almost be easier to begin with a new subject, but that right now is my plan. Of course, I haven't written even the first line (though it's in my head!).
Had lunch today with Fred, once my mentor in graduate school and now a longtime friend. He was enthusiastic about my new project, and we talked of university presses and academia and food and had a good time. As I told him, with my new routine, lunches will be my lifeline to the world. I have plentyof work to do--though I haven't done well getting started on it today--but I need sociability.
Ah, transitions!

Psychology, sore shoulders, and a bit of oomph

This morning I decided I was tired of the doldrums--my shoulder didn't seem to hurt as badly, I didn't really have anything I wanted to dig into at my desk, and I needed to get out of my rut. So I got dressed and went to Home Depot--you have to understand this is not a place that's on my list of easy places to go. I almost never go there alone, but I gutted up and did, and it was fine. I found the patio chairs I wanted, explained to the man that I wanted four but I drive a VW bug convertible, and he said he was quite sure they could fit them into the open car. So I bought them, and a nice young man loaded them for me. I must have made quite a sight, driving along with all these chair legs sticking out of the back seat (they're stackable chairs). When I got home,my new neighbor, Brian, saw me struggling with the first chair and came to help me unload and put the old chairs in the backyard where they'll wait for my brother--Jordan wants to keep two because she thinks I can take Jacob and his trike out there to play. I think it's a pretty dismal and boring place for a child to play. But anyway, tonight, I'm pleased as punch with my chairs--and with the fact that I went and got them.
Had lunch with Katie, a good friend I don't see nearly often enough, and we chattered throughout lunch like magpies, mostly about our grandchildren. But Katie did bring up a study, done some years ago, where small children, African American and Anglo, were shown black and white dolls and asked to point to which doll was the prettiest, smartest, etc. Inevitably all the children, no matter skin color, pointed to the white doll. Asked to point to the dumbest, etc., they pointed to the black. A couple of years ago someone replicated the study on YouTube, unscientifically, but the results were the same. Then some trained sociologists repeated it recently, and the results were still the same--even though we now have an African-American president. One little Anglo girl, sitting safely in her mother's lap, pointed to the black doll as stupid and ugly, and Katie said you could see the tears start in the mother's eyes. We haven't come nearly as far as we should, and to me it points out a much larger problem--we have a population of young African Americans who have no self-esteem and so feel they can't contribute and why should they try. Awful.
My shoulder was hurting again, even as we ate lunch,and reaching don to retrieve my purse was downright painful. I came home, piddled, took aspirin, had a bit of wine, and went to asleep. When I woke up there was an email from an editor I'd queried at a local university press saying she as indeed very much interested in my idea for a book. So tonight I've begun to think about a table of contents, an introduction, and a sample chapter. And you know what? My shoulder doesn't hurt nearly as much! Ain't psychology wonderful?

Winding down the day

My son, Jamie, posts every place he goes on Facebook. I can tell you most days where he eats lunch and dinner, where he shops--yesterday it was Brookstone and Lululemon. But last night his post was "Winding down the day." Well, maybe he felt that way because it had been his wife's birthday and she had, as she said, been diva for a day. But I thought it was a strange post.
Hey, tonight, that's how I feel--at 8:45, I'm winding down the day. I don't mean to whine and throw myself into self-pity, but last night as I settled down for the evening at my desk (after doing dishes for company,etc.), winding down the day in Jamie's words, I began to feel my left should tighten up, around the shoulder blade. I have no idea what I did or what made it happen, but by the middle of the night, it really hurt, no matter how much I shifted positions. I took some aspirin, went back to sleep and slept until 8:00 a.m. But it still hurt. I took my time getting going and did some yoga, figuring I'd work the kinks out--maybe not a good idea. Went to the office to take care of a couple of small matters, came home,and by the time I was fixing lunch it really hurt again, sharply.
I accused Jordan of having my heating pad, but she assured me she didn't and reminded me that I hide things in strange places. I found it way back under the bed, covered with more dirt, dust and dog hair than I care to talk about. The cover went into the laundry, and I fashioned a new one of a towel and safety pins. When Jordan wrote that I was silly, I told her to be careful--she's the child most like me.
More aspirin, some wine, and a long nap--and I truly did feel better. Took my new neighbor down to see Charles, and we had a good visit--they talked about running, and I mostly listened, but as we left Brian said, "That's the high point of my day." I think Charles enjoyed it too, so I'm glad I got them together--Charles remembers Brian's brother, who is also a runner.
But tonight my shoulder hurts again, and I have no ambition for writing. Though I appreciate much Cindy Bonner's comment that one should stop rewriting and worrying about plot and character and all that and just put the words down to get through the first draft. That's what I did tonight, and I probably wrote between 3-1/2 to 4 pages.Tomorrow I'll see how much they sound llike drivel.
Meantime, I'm winding down the day. Thanks, Jamie, for putting me onto that phrase.

Hard thoughts on writing, some memoirsand some critters

If you follow this blog at all, you probably know I am about 12,000 words into a mystery. I keep putting it aside for other things, even while I read all those posts on the Sisters in Crime and AgentQuest listservs about persistence, keeping after your writing, writing is hard work, etc. As I sit at my desk, trying to drum up free lance projects which require more research than creativity, thoughts flit through my head about that mystery--how to toughen it up, make it different from the thousands of cozies editors see every day. And then I go back and rewrite that first 12,000 words. It occurred to me yesterday that I am running away from the hard work of writing, looking for the easier, distracting chores. I used to know a historian who said, "A page a day is a book a year." Some days I'd do six or eight pages, and then coast on my laurels. But I think I'm going to go back to Don's advice--I'm going to write something new on that novel every day. You see, last night I rewrote again--the characters keep taking firmer shape in my mind, which occasions all that hard rewriting. Even now I've thought of something I didn't rewrite last night and have to, if things are going to work out the way I think they will.
Right now I'm reading a book with a wonderful title: I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti. The recipes are good, basic Italian, and I'm enjoying it. Author is Giulia Melucci. Just finished It is Well with My Soul, the autobiography (with a co-writer) of 106-year-old Ella Mae Cheeks Johnson, the first black woman to receive a masters from Case Western Reserve University (in social work). It's a good lesson in communication and parenting--words are everything.
Critters: Yesterday morning I glanced out the front door and saw something with a long hairless tail scooting across the porch. Having been invaded by rats a couple of years ago, I was really apprehensive. It proved to be a possum--I think that's who's (or what's) eating Scooby's food when he doesn't. Later when I went down the driveway I saw that the possum had a buddy. I'm not much on judging the size of possums, but I thought these were young. My neighbor said he had no idea either. When I was unloading groceries later, one came quite close to investigate. I shooed it away gently--what would I do if it got into the car to investigate my groceries? I know when cornered they can be mean, so I surely don't want to corner these.
I finally found a reasonable bird feeder that looked squirrel proof and hung it in the yard yesterday, but so far no birds.
But I had a cat underfoot all day. My fussy eater smelled the chicken I was cooking and would not get out of my way. Finally I put a few scraps in her dish and poured a bit of broth over it. She lapped it up, but today I was cooking vegetables--not her deal at all--and she was still underfoot. If I wanted her in the kitchen, she wouldn't deign to be seen there. "Dogs have masters, cats have staff."
Good dinner tonight with company--my successor as director of the press and his wife. We had wine and salmon tartare on the porch--hot as it's been, there's a nice breeze. But we decided dinner indoors would be better because of the noise of the traffic. My cold supper was a hit--the chicken loaf was good as was the roasted vegetable salad. Nice company, a pleasant evening.

Cooking . . . and cooking some more

I spent much of today on food--grocery store trip, then home to make a chicken loaf out of the hen I'd stewed last night. It's a retro dish, and my kids had mixed opinions about it (some declaring it "gelatinous") but it's a nice cold supper, with the purest chicken flavor I've ever tasted--I love it with mayonnaise, but tomorrow for company I may dress up the mayo with a bit of lemon and some basil (my basil plants are already huge this early in the season). Plus I'll use basil leaves to decorate the platter. It's simple, though time-consuming--boil a hen, let it cool, skin and bone, cut meat into chunks. The wonderful lady who gave me this recipe insisted you had to cut the meat into small pieces with scissors (she died several years ago in her 90s, so that tells you this is retro). I think she made her husband cut the chicken. I put it in the food processor and try not to overdo it. Dump the meat into a bowl and process one cylinder of saltines, adding them to the meat. Then the tricky part. The original recipe says to dampen mixture with just enough chicken broth to make it hold together. My mom found, and I did too, it fell apart when sliced. So we added two packets of gelatin, softened in broth, and then a bit more broth. You put it in a loaf pan, cover with wax paper, top with another loaf pan, and weigh it down with two cans of whatever out of your cabinet. Chill overnight. Next day, pray it slices well. After doing all that, my back hurt, and I quit for the afternoon.
But tonight I made salmon tartare--it's not really tartare, since it's made with smoked salmon. My neighbor Jay (the handsome one) took it to the barbecue last week at Jordan's, and it was delicious. I made half a batch but my garlic paste didn't work--roasted garlic was hard as nuts. And typical of me, I left out the jalopeno. Stuck that in the fridge and sauteed mushrooms, cherub tomatoes, scallions, and smoked salmon and then threw in two eggs to scramble and hold it all together. Wonderful supper.
Tomorrow I'll make a salad of roasted asparagus, tiny new potatoes, and tomatoes with a basil/lime dressing, but I have not made nor planned dessert for my company tomorrow (my successor at TCU Press, his wife, and a mutual friend). Tonight I went through my recipe file to find a recipe for banana ice cream to add as a comment to a blog, and I forgot how many wonderful dessert recipes I've cut out over the years. I'll have to do better next time. In looking I found a recipe for really easy and low cal chocolate cupcakes: 1 box chocolate cake mix, 1 can pure pumpkin, 1/2 cup mini chocolate chips. Mix and bake at 350 in cupcake tins for 18 minutes. Makes 18 cupcakes, and you can't taste the pumpkin--the cupcakes are dense and chocolatey and moist. If you're follow Weight Watchers, one cupcake is 2 points--can't beat that!
After all that cooking, I'm tired. Time to go read on the porch.

Feast or Famine

After three days in what I called nunnery solitude, I've had a hectice, people-filled day today--and enjoyed it. Had a 9:30 meeting with the incoming director of the press to review the acquisitions list--and officially turn it over to him. Before that I ran a bunch of Jacob's stuff by Jordan's office, so they can take it with them on a weekend getaway tomorrow, and bought animal food. (I truly believe the man who said the first step towards wealth is not to buy anything you have to feed!)
Got home just in time to go to lunch with friends at the Cat City Grill--having weighed this morning I swore I would have salad or something non-fattening. So I ordered a lobster po-boy--but I didn't eat the bread and only a few waffle fries. There wasn't much lobster, but it as battered and fried. Will I never learn?
Came home to 50 emails that had accumulated while I was gone all morning, so dealt with them, took a nap (so comfy I didn't want to get up). About 5:15 a friend of the press came by to pick up a manuscript he had promised to read, and we had wine on the porch and a good visit. Then I rushed to eat some supper, clean up the porch--well, dust the chairs--and get ready for tonight's "Writing Your Life" class, which is the real subject of this blog.
Two weeks ago I challenged the women to write five pages about any aspect of their lives they wanted, and tonight we talked about how they felt about the experience, what obstacles they encountered, and finally, what they wrote. Three of the women shared their writing-they had brought copies for each member of the class--and we discussed them. Then I asked them to take ten minutes to write what they remembered about something they didn't think they remembered. I do these exercises along with them,and the result was pretty interesting. A couple of women shared theirs--and I hinted at mine, saying it started out in one place and ended up somewhere totally different. What all of us as a group are finding is that tortuous twisted path, where one memory leads to another. We all agree, however, that memoir needs humor--and angst. A combination of both.
Keeping the ball rolling and the conversation going for an hour and a half is exhausting--at least that's what I decided tonight, because I'm really tired. Elizabeth opens each session with a meditation and closes each with a circle--I think the class members really appreciate this. But still it's up to me to make salient comments, encourage discussion, and so on. A lot of stress and brain work, but fun. I found the class satisfying, and several commented on how much they had learned. When Elizabeth has the closing circle, she asks each of us to say one word about how we're feeling. Mine was "intrigued"--others were "interested," "stimulated," "motivated," and the like. I think it was a success.
And thanks to Lisa Wilson who brought some delicious goodies--rolls of cream cheese with pesto or tapenade or pepper jelly, tiny brownies topped with strawberry cream cheese (now there's a great idea!), and wine, of course.