Anticipating arctic temperatures

In North Texas, when they forecast sub-freezing temperatures, everyone acts like a squirrel storing up nuts for the winter. We rush to grocery stores and stock up on things we probably don't need, we make sure outdoor pipes are wrapped, we leave kitchen sink cupboards open and faucets dripping. I went out today and bought supplies so I could do some serious cooking for the freezer tomorrow--will make an ice cream pie which seems a bit ironic in this cold weather and a new bread someone gave me the recipe for. It's supposed to stay below freezing for three days, and I may not stick my nose out the door the whole time. Rain turning to freezing rain and sleet tonight and then maybe snow. I'm not driving anywhere, let along walking down the driveway to my car.
Today it was in the 50s but the anticipation of the arctic blast made me feel both a bit apprehensive and chilled all day. I was surprised when I went out to check the garage apt (and leave the faucet dripping) that it wasn't really cold out. I cleaned the dog's yard, figuring I wouldn't do it again for a couple of days, and fed the birds--well, mostly the blasted squirrels, but the birds really need sustenance in the cold. Jeannie tells me they have to eat enough all day to give them the energy to shiver all night because that's how they stay warm and alive. Sounds like a miserable existence.
It's a bit ironic that we're having this weather with the SuperBowl madness in town. Someone suggested Fort Worth was hosting the Steelers and Packers with the kind of weather they're used to. I get the feeling the ESPN folks who set up in Sundance Square expected balmier weather, but apparently they have electric blankets, heaters, etc. The city has gone wild with this--another reason to stay home. Today, TV programming was interrupted so we could all see four buses carrying the Steelers from the airport to Fort Worth's Omni Hotel--every darn inch of the way. Made for riveting TV--not! I thought it was sort of funny that the local news said the eyes of the world are focused on the Metroplex for this game, when the national news was broadcast from Cairo. Obviously a difference in focus.
A joke on me: I have repeatedly said I'd never go to SuperBowl with 95,000 wild people. But guess what? I was at the stock show Saturday with 150,000 other people. No wonder it seemed crowded.
I have plenty of work on my desk, so the next few days will find me housebound, working and cooking and napping and reading. Doesn't sound too bad. Reports on cabin fever will follow--I may call all my friends just to hear a human voice.

The day after

A mother-daughter picture I treasure: Megan and me at the stock show. Courtesy of Jordan who then tried to turn around a take a picture of herself with us. It didn't work.
The Houston Alters pulled out of the driveway at eight this morning--I barely made it up to say goodbye. Austin contingent was gone by ten, and Jamie and his girls left about eleven, after he helped me clean up the playroom. Jordan and Christian came for lunch, collected Jacob, and were gone. Tonight, the house is quiet, three loads of laundry done, most folded, one bed re-made, dishwasher run, house pretty much back to normal. I am lonely but my dog and cat are grateful to have the house back--the cat particularly hates those intruders and hasn't been eating all weekend.
This morning when I went to fix breakfast I discovered I didn't have as many eggs as I thought. I asked Megan, and she said, "Your son." I wondered why Jamie was hosing down the whole front yard last night--apparently he instigated an egg fight with the grandchildren. I was obliviously sitting on the front porch with a glass of wine, visiting with the adult children (except Jamie, which goes without saying) and Sue, my former neighbor. Talk about oblivious! I told Maddie this morning that the first day after she was born I was holding her on a couch in the hospital room and Jamie was jumping up and down on the couch, calling to her. All I could say was, "Darlin', it's going to be this way the rest of your life." And it is--Jamie and his girls have such a bond and such a good time together. But then, so do all my kids and their children. I am truly blessed with family, and I'm feeling it more than ever tonight. My consolation: they'll all be back in two weeks for a party for their cousin who is deploying to Iraq. Hate the reason, celebrate the getting-together with extended family.
Colin says my blog is obsessed with food, but I pointed out it has three subjects and one is cooking. So here goes: This morning I didn't need the eggs because the dish I made was so filling: soft polenta with corn (I overcooked it and it wasn't as soft as I wished--also I should have made it with chicken broth instead of water, and I forgot in my haste to salt and pepper it). Top individual servings with chorizo (removed from casings, sauteed and then topped with cherry tomatoes until they release their juices--smash a few with a fork and cook it to make a sauce). Then top each serving with a mixture of feta and chopped cilantro. Really good, though the chorizo was a bit spicy for me. This evening I used the feta/cilanto mix to top a hamburger. So good.
So tonight I'm back at it--reading a manuscript for the Guppies critiquing partners program. Under that, a coordinator matches manuscripts and asks the authors if they're interested. I was, so I'm reading one about a designer/single mother in a small town outside Dallas, and I sent the author No Neighborhood for Old Women. I'm really having fun doing this, and I like the mystery.
Arctic temperatures in the teens (is this Omaha?), freezing drizzle, even snow are forecast this week. Ah, North Texas. Yesterday it was close to 80 and we were soooo hot in the sun at the stock show. I plan to get supplies tomorrow so I can spend Tuesday indoors, cooking. I'll be so glad when March comes. Good news is that I hve flowers--my orchid and my Christmas cactus are blooming. Pictures to come.

The stock show, the midway, and--oh, my!

With seven kids in tow (well one old enough to do lots of carrying and towing) we "did" the stock show today, and tonight I am an old and tired and broken woman. Parking is so remote I don't even want to talk about it, and the crowds were unbelievable. We began with the animal exhibits and saw lots of goats, then a few rabbits and roosters (well, I think they were) outside the FFA young animal exhibit, where the kids were entranced with the baby chick and ducks and with one huge sow nursing her piglets.  By then--we'd been there maybe 45 minutes--everyone was hungry, so we went to the Roundup Inn for lunch. In contrast to the years I  remember from when my kids were little, it's now a food court, and I had a pretty good Subway club sandwich. Then off to the petting zoo--except Megan "parked" me on some shady steps and I read emails on m phone. Just finished when she came back to say the kids voted to bypass the petting zoo because of a long line nd were at the midway. So I went and watched them on the various rides, which really was lots of fun. Jacob came down a really steep slide all by hmself. But it also involved a lot of standing, and my back really began to hurt. Then we had to have a junk food break--funnel cakes, cotton candy, candied apples and the like. Then more standing around--we were there from 10:30 to 2:30, and I honestly wasn't sure I could make the longwalk back from the far corner of the fairgrounds to the car at the far opposite corner. Jacob, Ford and Sawyer each won a fish--which meant sweet Christian went to PetSmart for fish-ready water, bowls, gravel, food, etc. The boys are thrilled tonight.
We had never celebrated Jamie's birthday, so he got carte blanche on where we ate supper--and we went to Mama's Pizza on Berry Street, because it's a sentimental favorite of his--he hung out there a lot in high school and college. Beyond that, I don't see much to recommend it, but then I'm not big on pizza. And they don't serve wine--just beer. It was fun to have us all together, and I saw an old friend who had known the children when they were little.
Tonight, well before ten, my house is quiet--everyone is exhausted and in bed. Makes me feel better--it's not just the old lady who got tired out by the stock show. But I am ready for bed.

Let's rodeo!

I sent these serious gun-totin' cowboys off to the rodeo tonight. All my children (except for daughter-in-law Mel who has a class committment) are coming home this weekend--guess how happy that makes me! The Hudgeonses and Burtons wanted to take their boys to the rodeo tonight--so that's Ford on the left, then Jacob, and then Sawyer. Needless to say, they were excited--and of course they associate cowboys with guns. I had to tell Sawyer to put away a plastic machine gun, explaining it was NOT a cowboy gun and did not belong in the picture No need telling them yet that most cowboys couldn't hit the broad side of a barn if they tried.
When my children were little, it was some kind of coming of age mark when they were deemed old enough to go to the rodeo at night. I can remember taking the older two and leaving first Jamie and then Jamie and Jordan behind with babysitters. But finally they all got to go, and it was an annual ritual they loved. I did too back then, but now my sensibilities have become more acute or something--I really don't want to see the bull riding, for fear I'll see a catastrophe. And I don't much like calf roping, bronc riding--anything where man or beast can get hurt. Pretty sad for someone who has made t he American West her field of study. Megan said tonight, "I can tell you're not sad you're not going with us," and I agreed. After they left, I broiled a loin lamb chop, made a small salad, and had a quiet and happy dinner, knowing they'd be back later.
But I'm glad they thought the rodeo was important enough to come to town--first rodeo for all three boys--because it's part of our culture and history, a part of a world that I've embraced. Me, a Yankee? Maybe, some forty-five years ago but now I'm a Texan and I love all parts of the culture (okay not the politics).
Colin and his family will arrive later tonight, and Jamie and his girls will come in the morning. We'll do the exhibits and probably the Midway, though I may give out part way through all that. And then we'll have a family get-together tomorrow night. With the stock show in town--remember when it was called the Fat Stock Show?--and the Superbowl looming, I think going out would be foolish, but I've made no plans for supper. They'll have to decide--carry-out, a last minute trip to Central Market for  fajita meat, whatever. I have spent too much time planning meals my kids didn't eat, and I've learned my lesson.
But it's always a joyous weekend to me when they all come home. Meanwhile, I'll spend tonight reading more of the manuscript I'm critiquing--and waiting in anticipation for my children to come home. I did that for so many years, and now I'm back to it. Couldn't be happier.

All for the sake of research

Betty and I had one of our culinary adventures today--and one of the best ever. We went to check out Tolbert's Restaurant in Grapevine for my book on chili. For those who don't know, historian and journalist Frank X. Tolbert was the guru of Texas chili and a cofounder of the annual Terlingua International Chili Championship Cookoff. If anybody's chili is authentic, it should be Tolbert's. The restaurant is owned and managed by the late Tolbert's daughter, Kathleen Tolbert Ryan. We met years ago, at a strange dinner party, but I was delighted when I called her that she remembered me and was anxious to work with me on my chili book.
So today, she met us at the restaurant with a fabulous collection of pictures and posters for the book. And we had lunch. Now I'd been a bit worried--Tolbert was a chili purist (no beans, for one thing) and I worried that his chili would be too hot--after all, years ago I was a Yankee and my palate has never adjusted to really spicy food. And then of course I worried about eating too much fattening food. Not at all! Lunch was a delightful experience. We had donkeys' tails.
Puzzled? Well, it's a Tolbert invention--a pure beef hot dog, wrapped in a tortilla and deep fried. I'd seen this when I googled the menu, and of course I pictured sort of a greasy quesadilla with a hot dog in it. Forget that. The tortilla was wrapped tightly around the hot dog--we still haven't figured out how they do that--and not the least bit greasy, just crisp and good, a perfect contrast  to the texture of the hot dog. It's served with a mustard sauce that Kathleen told us is a mix of mustard and their salsa (a combination I'd never thought of but it was great) and a taster's cup of chili. We figured out later maybe you're supposed to pour the mustard and chili over the donkey tail and eat it with a fork. We treated it as finger food, dunking the tail into mustard and eating the chili separately, which I was glad I did so I got a taste of it. It was so good we each asked for one more small cup--and this time they came with spoons. We each ordered a side of cole slaw--it was clearly made on site, fresh and crisp and no preservative taste. Betty and I agreed that we each could have eaten another hot dog (we split one order) but prudence kept us from it.
We watched a bowl of red being delivered to an adjacent table, and I wished I had my camera out. It  looks like a bowl of small chips with a gorgeous, perfect green chile perched on top of it. Eye appeal was great, and by then I was sort of wishing I'd ordered a bowl of chili--except I wouldn't have wanted to miss the donkey tails.
Kathleen toured us around the restaurant, pointing out various pictures, lots of her dad and one wonderful one of her mom at Terlingua. She even took us back in the kitchen and Betty toured the walk-in. Betty and her husband own the Star Cafe in Fort Worth, and those two restaurant gals had a good time comparing war stories.
All in all, it was a great adventure--and I came away with a lot of illustrations and some new knowledge for my book. Plus a friend I can call on when I have questions. Kathleen is still chair or co-chair of the Terlingua Festival. Sometimes the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I guess she's been around chili most of her life.

White House mysteries

I've been a fan of Julie Hyzy's White House Chef mystery series for all four books. They have everything I like in a book--cozy mystery, cooking and food, and a likeable heroine, albeit with a messed-up love relationship. Ollie Paras starts her career as executive chef of the White House in the first book and holds on to it through a series of murders and mishaps, always sure she's in jeopardy of losing her job. There's enough White House lore for history buffs, and the details of cooking and planning a state dinner will intrigue wannabe chefs like myself. I recommend you read them in order--State of the Onion, Hail to the Chef, Eggsecutive Orders, and the brand new Buffalo West Wing.
The newest book comes perilously close to home--a new president moves his family, including two pre-teen children, into the White House, and Ollie must adjust to working for a new administration, especially a new First Lady--and to having young children in the mansion for the first time in years. The parallels to the Obama administration are clear though Julie agreed that Michelle Obama would be a lot more fun to work with than the fictional Mrs. Hyden, who is made difficult for the sake of conflict to keep the book going. In her first move, an attempt to protect the presidential children, Ollie refuses to serve the children a box of chicken wings that mysteriously appears in the kitchen. If Ollie doesn't know where the food came from, it's not going to the First Family, but that move sets her off on the wrong foot with the new First Lady and it only gets worse from there.
Mrs. Hyden brings in a personal chef to cook the family meals, and the tension is immediately obvious. Virgil thought he was going to be the executive chef and is not pleased that he reports to Ollie. Mrs. Obama also brought in a personal chef, but  current White House chef Cristeta Comerford reports they get along very well. Once again that doesn't make as good a story as unpleasantness and conflict.
The threat to the children is obvious from the beginning of this book--and leads to some hair-raising suspense that kept me reading late into the night. But it also got me to wondering about White House reaction. Not that the Secret Service isn't already always on the alert against kidnapping, but how did they react to this fictional version? So I asked Julie Hyzy about the degree of cooperation, if any, with the White House.
She replied that she has had no cooperaton. She contacted the Bush White House when she was working on the first book and was told to send them a list of questions about the kitchen. She did, but never got a response. She was able to talk with former executive chef Walter Sheib (author of White House Chef), and she has talked to Secret Service agents and former aides.
Julie Hyzy has never stepped foot into the White House kitchen--she hopes to soon, but she has studied pictures, floor plans, and watched every recording filmed there. Her dream? An invitation.
As for the Secret Service being disturbed by her plot, she can't imagine they bother reading her books. She says she may have raised a few red flags when she started writing the first book, but by now they have to know that she writes fiction.
Even if the Secret Service doesn't bother to read Julie's White House Chef books, you should. They're pure delight for mystery lovers, and they do give a good glimpse, well researched, into at least some of the workings of the White House. Warning: you may stay up too late turning pages.

Stay at home and put nose to grindstone

This has been day one of my two-day stay-at-home and really work project. I got off to a slow start--slept really late, then fixed myself a better breakfast than usual, read emails, showered, did my yoga, and started a laundry. But about eleven, I settled down to sort my tax information. I decided with a long day in front of me that was the project I should do--it's one I just have to dig in and get done rather than work at in spurts. Either my accountant or I are psychic--his annual questionnaire arrived in the mail this afternoon. I'm not done, but I'm darn close--and glad to have it done.
I did sort of hate to stay in all day and work, since the sun was warm and cheering today. Temperature about where it should be, mid-fifties, though these days I always feel cold and welcome my flannel snuggie. I kind of wanted to join the cat in that wonderful patch of sun in the back room, which faces south.
Tomorrow will be devoted to a paper I promised to write for the Texas State Historical Association, to be delivered by good friend Fran Vick at the annual meeting in El Paso. I just don't pick up and go to far places like El Paso as easily as Fran does. The paper is on writing historical fiction for young adults, so it won't take much research--I can just write about the books I've done and the research for them.
But my two-day plan was pleasantly interrupted (actually I had seen it as a test of my self-satisfaction or ability to stand my own company or something like that). Melinda emailed about a birthday lunch for our co-worker (even though I'm retired, I'm still considered a part of the office in many ways and I appreciate that). So that's tomorrow. Then a friend called and said, "Can you have dinner tonight?" Both invitations pleased me, and we had a good supper and long overdue and much enjoyed visit over comfort food. We went to the Old Neighborhood Grill, down the streeet from my house, and I saw and chatted with several people I know, to the point I felt like a social butterfly. More encouragement.
When I came home I guess my brain was too tired for figures, but I wrote three and a half pages of the historical paper. Now I'm allowing myself to quit, read, and be lazy.

Writerly woes

What's a writer to do in this fast-changing world of e-publishing? I read a lot of listservs and blogs and the like. Yes, they take time but I'm afraid I'll miss some valuable piece of information. Trouble is, I get so much information I can't process and sort it all.
Take blogs: surveys have found that blogs do not sell books. But, hey, is that why I blog? I blog because I likie to and because I like to keep in touch. Individual writers protest that blogs get your name known and indirectly sell books. The thing you must avoid is BSP (blatant self-promotion).  Best suggestions I've heard are that hosting other writers on your blog is a good idea, as is being a guest blogger on other sites. Sort of crossing audiences or whatever. Let me ask you, dear reader, would you like to hear from other authors on this site?
Then there's the question of who's reading blogs? Are we blogging for other writers? If so, that's preaching to the choir. Are we blogging for the general reader (which I hope I am)? Then I have to move beyond marketing and such subjects and back to grandmothering and cooking--two topics where I'm comfortable.
And then there are all the lists and groups you can join: Linked In, BacklisteBestsellers, Good Reads, Kindle Nation, KindleBoards, and a host of others. To do all that would take every minute of every day--when would a person write, let alone have a life? I've deided you have to focus on one or two that seem most valuable to what you want and disregard the others.
And of course there's Facebook and Twitter. I do pretty well with Facebook, not that I'm among the most active--but I do respond to other posts, occasionally post something new, and always put this blog up. But Twitter in my mind is a whole different critter. I'm not sure what to post, and I never think I have anything significant unless it's BSP like "Why haven't you bought my book?" Not appropriate at all. I try occasionally. I read once if you post on Twitter once a day you're doing better than 90% of people. Well, probably 70% are doing better than I am! Sometimes I sit and think, "Hmmm. What can I post on Twitter?"
Then there's the matter of publicizing your e-books. If you don't plunge in and take a proactive approach, no one will ever find your books. All of this is a constant learning process, but I've just learned today how to offer free review copies to e-book bloggers. I have a long list of online bloggers but I'll have to research each one to see if they do backlist e-books. A part of me is waiting to make a big push when I have a brand new title--if ever. But I'll get to work on that. I read postings from people who are making a thousand dollars a month from their backlist, and I know I'm doing something wrong--or not doing something right. I might have a credit account with Amazon and Smashwords, combined, of $10-$12
Okay, BSP: My 1988 Spur Award winning novel Mattie and my short story collection are up on Smashwords (http://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=Judy+alter) and on Kindle (http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=Judy+Alter).
And this is retirement? I tell myself it's keeping my brain young and active.
Meantime, back to cooking and grandmothering. Christian, Jacob and I went to church this morning. Jacob was fine in nursery school--after he pitched a wall-eyed fit when I tried to take him last summer. Maybe he's just that much older or maybe his daddy being there made him more comfortable. We both enjoyed the service immensely--the sermon was outstanding. Houston Bowers said when he hears someone say, "I gave my heart to Jesus," or "I gave my life to Jesus," he wants to shout: "That's not the way it works. Jesus takes it!" But best of all for me was that the anthem was "How Great Thou Art," my all time favorite. I told Christian he was to be sure it's played at my memorial service, but he just laughed. I liked being back in church. I just don't like going alone, but now maybe I've broken the ice and also maybe the Burtons will go with me more.
Another dull, chilly day in North Texas--not cold, but it felt that way. The birds swarm to the feeder outside my kitchen window, and I love watching them, though they can be a feisty bunch. I have a pair of cardinals that frequently come. Did you know they mate for life? Then I have pesky squirrels--I bang on the grate of my greenhouse window, and that usually scares them away. I have been known to run outside yelling like a banshee for Scooby to chase them off.

A miscellany, mostly of food

These are my Houston grandkids, Morgan on the top and, below, Kegan, with their breakfast pancakes this morning. Sme time ago I saw something--TV? the Web?--about Guy Fieri (the Dives, Dumps and Drive-Ins Food Network guy who will be in Fort Worth for SuperBowl) doing pancake portraits. He did a self-portrait that was spot on. Colin has long been creating shapes and alphabet letters in pancakes for his kids, and he once carved a pumpkin that was the exact, perfect likeness of his father. So I sent him a link or something, and apparently this is his answer to the challenge. It isn't quite his dad--maybe looks more like Fieri's spiky hairdo, but the kids are obviously thrilled.

Tonight I cooked for Jacob and Christian--I had purchased the ingredients for a cheesy, ziti casserole becaue it was an easy recipe that Jacob could make with me--but then he tired of cooking, and I wanted to use that ricotta before it spoiled. So I made the casserolele this morning--with low fat ricotta and skim milk mozzarella (or maybe the other way around). I still have some salad dressing that Jacob "helped" me make-well, I've added to it a bit since but he took credit since he tossed the salad--oh so gently, as I told him, so as not to bruise the delicate greens (I remember that from a restaurant in Chicago in my youth).
This casserole calls for using a jar of prepared marinara sauce, which I happened to have. I was amazed when I mentioned to both my daughters that I had found a way to spark up prepared sauce, and they each said, "I always doctor it." I added a bit of wine, bay leaf, balsamic vinaigrette, and brown sugar--omitting the suggested red pepper flakes in deference to Jacob and the bit of cream cheese on the theory that there was already way too much cheese in this reipe. Jacob ate it though only after announcing he didn't like pasta. Christian said, "Okay, if you don't like it, tell me what it is." Jacob: "Apple?" He ate enough to get ice cream.
There's a poltergeist in my house--or else senility, early or not, has set in. Yesterday when I came home from shopping my front door was unlocked--the alarm was on and nothing was touched, so I dismissed it as confusion on my part. I really thought I had locked it, but who knows? But this noon I lost the remote to my office TV--I wanted to change the channel from NBC 5 to 452, the Food Network channel. Have you ever contemplated having to push the up channel changer button 447 times? I searched; it was nowhere. So I ate my lunch, answered emails, and resolved to take the desk apart, although I'd pretty much done that.
When I went back into the office, there it sat in plain sight. I know it's easy to overlook the obvious, but this was SO obvious. I'm on the alert. I've often thought of writing a mystery--short story, maybe--about maybe a ghost living in a house or an actual person in the attic. Sometimes I hear things that go bump in the night but I figure it's the dog making a noise, an old house creaking, the wind blowing. I'll be alert now for strange things. Do you believe in poltergeists?

Wywy so enjoys the warm sun in the back room these winter days--he spends hours curled up there, sleeping contentedly--an old man's delight and right. Scooby on the other hand doesn't realize he's an old man. Tonight I was alarmed because he didn't come no matter how much I called when I put his food out--he has something (a possum?) cornered in an old rotting tree stump in the back of the yard. I can see where Scooby has clawed away much of the  wood. Life with animals is pretty intresting.

A spicy day

In my ongoing pursuit of knowledge about chili, Jeannie and I went to Pendery's Chili and Spice, a store that's been in Fort Worth since the late 1880s. Legend has it that DeWitt Pendery stepped off a stagecoach (or maybe a train) wearing a top hat and a cowboy shot a hole in the hat. Pendery calmly picked the hat up, put it back on his head, and proceeded on his way. The hat, with bullet hole, is on display at the store today.

Pendery's has the most amazing display of spices--you smell the aroma the minute you walk in. The variety of chili spices is overwhelming--I'm not sure how one would know to choose. But there are also bags of various flavored salts, peppercorns in all colors, fennel, cardamom--an endless list, along with dried chiles, books that seemed to jump off the shelf and say "Buy me," and cooking accessories I'd never thought of. I was particularly fascinated by the salt table, which is a block of salt on which you can serve appetizers; it seasons them just a bit more. Pendery's is online, with a catalog and a newsletter; check them out.

Jeannie and I went from there to a rather bland but delicious lunch at a local tearoom and then some browsing, but we didn't buy much. Still it was lovely to be out in the sunshine--we've been missing it for so many days.

Some days I feel that I don't get enough social contact--I have lots of work on my desk (including my tax information for 2010 to sort for the accountant) but I need people. I was really sort of blue about that thinking that lunch with Jeannie was my only outside event for the weekend. But my phone suddenly rang off the wall--one for a lunch date next week, another for a panel program participation in August (okay, that's kind of far away) and then I talked to Christian who said he's counting on going to church Sunday and taking Jacob with us. And I'll cook supper for them Saturday night, so the world is once again looking much more social to me.

I truly don't do well with just my own company for long spells of time. I lose my ambition, and, truth to tell, I get bored with my own company. How about you? Do you need contact with people? I know some who are perfectly content with their own company--one friend, totally my opposite, could be content watching paint dry. Not me. I want action!