A time for resolutions--or is it?

Jacob and I celebrated New Year's Eve tonight with fondue and wine--sparkling cider or "kid wine" for him, and chardonnay for me. He asked for fondue because we had it last year and he loved it. I had forgotten that it is both expensive and work-intensive--I stirred until I thought it would never come together. And then he said he didn't really like the cheese much but he ate the bread and apples. Truth is, it wasn't as good as I remember either, and it scorched on the bottom. Nonetheless, the idea was fun.
The other night at dinner we were joking about my son-in-law's 2014 resolutions, and I suggested he resolve never to say, "I don't eat ......." He looked appalled and said he couldn't do that. So I said that I had no resolutions to make, and he retorted, "Oh. Because you're perfect?" And I said, "You got it." Truth is I do have some resolutions in mind, though they are only vaguely formulated in my mind--I may blog about them later, but all I can say now is that they have to do with personal growth.
Meantime it occurs to me that New Year's Eve is also a time to look backward and give thanks for the good things in our past year and in our lives. I started a list.
On a daily basis, I am grateful beyond words for my four children and their families, their love for me and pride in my work, their successes in their own lives and families. They make me proud every day--well, okay, there are a few lapses. I am particularly grateful for Jordan, her husband Christian, and their son Jacob who constitute my local family and whom I see almost every day. Because I keep Jacob in the afternoons and a lot of nights I am particularly close to him...and I wish I had that relationship with my other six grandchildren.
I am grateful for my writing, my involvement in the online mystery-writing community, and the shape that work gives to my daily life, though I'm glad I don't rely on it for my livelihood. I'm grateful for my oh-so-comfortable house where I am completely at home, and for those who help me run it--the wonderful woman who cleans, Greg who keeps the garden, Lewis and Jim who see to repairs major and minor. Jacob pointed out it takes a lot of people to run my house, and I said, "Yes, a village." I'm thankful too for wonderful neighbors
I am grateful for Sophie, that wild Indian of a dog who stole a big chunk of expensive tuna off my plate last night and just snitched a Kleenex (used of course). She is daily in her devotion, even lying in the middle of the bathroom when I shower. She is good company, and I love our special tummy-rub time late at night.
2013 brought problems but mostly moments of high delight--there was a marvelous trip to Hawaii with Jordan in late February--a place I never thought I'd go, and I loved it. Thanks to lifelong friends Martha and Dick for hosting us. There was a wowzer of a 75th birthday party, mostly celebrating the new deck in my backyard. For most of the year, Elizabeth lived in the guest house--she was great company, Jacob adored her, and I welcomed not only our late-night wine sessions but also the presence of another person on the property. A corner of our small community here will always miss her. This fall brought a much-anticipated visit from my high school buddy Barbara and her daughter, Amy--too short but wonderful times. We can laugh together as we did in high school.
And there was our Christmas trip to Santa Fe which also brought about a visit with a thirty-year friend I probably haven't seen in ten years.
Do I have worries? Of course--the health of my oldest son is tops on my list of worries, closely followed by what I should do about my career. And there are niggling small annoyances but I feel so blessed by the life I lead.
2014? I think I'll try to grow up--and out (spiritually and mentally but, Lord help me, not physically). God rest ye all and bring you a bright new year.

Post-Christmas retrospect

The Alters, minus two, on the Plaza--sunny day

Back to blogging. My blog vacation was actually a Christmas vacation in Santa Fe with all of my family--16 of us in one large contemporary house within walking distance of the Plaza. It made for wild and noisy good times, a boisterous Christmas morning, and a generally wonderful experience. Years ago, when my children were in high school and college, we spent every Christmas vacation in Santa Fe, and it was a city where I felt completely at home, as though I'd lived there in another existence. It's now been ten years since I've been there and even longer for the children, but there was a lot of "Remember when..." as they reacquainted themselves.
Skiing was a major attraction for all but three of us, though it didn't happen until Dec. 26th. We arrived late Sunday, fiddled on Monday, and went to brunch and walked the Plaza on Tuesday. I found some trinkets for this one and that and a lovely wall cross for Lisa. Fun, but after one walk around the Plaza in my awkward boot, I'd had enough. Besides it was cold.
I also chickened out of caroling on Canyon Road, but everyone else had a great time.

Caroling on Canyon Road

For folks like me, who travel to Santa Fe on their stomachs, we ate at Gabriele's, new to me but delicious--can't beat crab enchiladas. One morning all sixteen of us had brunch at LaFonda--the kids and adults both loved it. They split us into tables of eight--so much more manageable. Another night, we thought we had reservations at Guadalupe Café, long a favorite of ours, but when Megan called to say we were running late, whoever answered said, "We're not open for dinner." Big problem, but it wasn't. The Pink Adobe has bought Guadalupe--the latter serves breakfast and lunch, and the Pink Adobe had a private room waiting for us. Expensive, but oh so good. Melanie, Jordan and I went to Chimayo one day--they had never been to the Sanctuario and brought back more than their share of holy dirt. I found a few quiet moments to sit in that wonderful chapel and talk go the Lord about 2014 and pray for the people on my prayer list. Lunch at Rancho Chimayo was as good as always. I get tired of spicy food and was happy with an avocado filled with chicken salad. And, finally, the three of us found ourselves on the next ski day with Maddie (14) and Jacob (7) for company, so we had lunch at Harry's Roadhouse, where I love the meatloaf. Very carefully saved and protected half my large sandwich for the drive back--sad story. Jordan though I packed it, and she thought I did. No meatloaf. I ate a cold cuts sandwich--good but inferior!

Lot of cooking went on; here, Mel and Eden make banana pudding

 

Full time life for a week with one teen and six children is interesting. We have a ten, nine, eight, two sevens and a six. The have incredible energy, even after a day on the slopes, and are incredibly noisy. I think we had never before been in as spacious a house where they could run and play. I learned to take my hearing aids out. For me, much of the week was quiet--reading and doing miscellaneous at my computer--but I liked that. And I liked knowing I was in Santa Fe and looking out over the lights of the city at night. I was glad to be back home, and I'm grateful for the privileges and opportunities and loving family that I have.

Some of the noisemakers

 

There were down moments of course--it's hard to be the matriarch, and it's hard to be in a house where no one is in charge and everyone has their own idea of how and what to do. And the trip ended badly with an emergency hospitalization of my oldest son. But more about those things later. Now I prefer to dwell on the pleasant memories--and they are many.

Goodbye until the next time

(photo courtesy Lisa Alter)

The Christmas Curmudgeon

A Christmas picture of most

but not all the Alter bunch

 

Facebook has been reminding us a lot lately that for many people the holidays are not the joyful family time that most of us dream of. Some are grieving, or sick, or lonely. It can be a hard time to face, with memories of happier times making the bad times all the harder. It's good advice, and something we should all keep in mind. Tonight I am, as I have been every Christmas of my life, surrounded by family, so I can't speak for the deep depression that some feel at the holidays.
But I've decided that joy at Christmas and feeling the spirit is a two-way street. If you're blue and alone, go serve at a soup kitchen, go to a church carol sing, reach out to a neighbor who may be alone or not realize that you are. My kids are off caroling tonight while I babysit the youngest who was too tired to go. But they'll come back, full of hot chocolate and cider, and bringing the Christmas spirit with them.
I sat at a mall table today with a young woman who was alone. Actually I asked if she minded if I sat there while my family decided what to do next. It was, I explained, like herding cats. She smiled and was gracious, but when several of my family descended on the table to eat cupcakes, she excused herself. I said we didn't mean to rush her off, and she said no, she really needed to go. But I worried about her the rest of the day. She didn't seem capable of reaching out to me like the woman I met in line tonight waiting for our turn at the restroom. By the time we parted, we were old friends. Christmas does that to some people. I wish others could get that spirit .
Last night I decided I was a being a bit of a curmudgeon myself, withdrawing into myself. Maybe I was remembering Christmases when the grandkids were young, cuddly, and awed by the whole thing, or maybe it was even my children's early Christmases. But everything seemed hectic and loud and disorganized to me. When I went to bed, I talked to the Lord about it and resolved not to think so much about how I was feeling and to think more about how my family was feeling. I wanted to make them glad I was in the midst of them.
This morning when I got up the first thing I did was to wash my hair and put on makeup. It made an enormous difference in my attitude, and I've had a terrific day.
I wish for each of you a joyous Christmas. If you celebrate, I wish you may feel the spirit of the gift of the Christ Child bringing joy, hope and peace to the world. If you don't celebrate the holy day, I wish for you the joy of the season.

How did I do that?

Enjoying wine and tapas with friends

 

I spent the morning answering that question to doctors, x-ray techs, and all sorts of people. My answer was always, "I haven't a clue." It seems I have broken the fifth metatarsal on my right foot--that's the long bone that leads to my little toe. I noticed Tuesday night that the side of my foot really hurt; the next day I thought I'd bruised it; the next day I thought it really looked funny, and I should check with the doctor's office. They said they wanted to see me right away, so this morning I went to the doctor's office, where they diagnosed a probable broken bone and sent me for x-rays. Off to the x-ray facility, some 20 minutes away. They confirmed the broken bone and sent me back to the doctor's office, where they sent me to the orthopod's office, only they sent me to the wrong one. A snippy young girl informed me I'd have to go to their other office. Of course, I got hopelessly lost, had to call for directions, and ended up driving on a major highway which I avoid if at all possible. The doctor was pleasant--knew my brother--and said, "How did you do this?" He fitted me with an orthopedic shoe for my right foot, which I am to wear for six weeks. Not a fashion statement, and I had just bought such cute snow boots. Actually though the foot feels better in the shoe, and it's not too hard to get around in. But I was gone from 8:45 until 1:00 and was hungry, tired and frustrated when I got home.
As for how I did it, I really don't know. It's entirely possible I bumped into something, stubbed my toe hard, twisted my foot wrong. I am not the world's most graceful person, but I don't remember anything specific that caused me instant pain. I suspect it may be a spontaneous or stress fracture--no, it has nothing to do with emotional stress.
Tonight all the trauma of my morning melted away with an evening with good friends at The Wine Haus--we chatted, drank wine, and ordered tapas. I was extravagant and ordered the lamb chop small plate--so good! Had a lovely time in an informal, lively atmosphere, with a gorgeous Great Dane wandering around.
I'm going on a blog vacation. With the craze for new words--like Icemageddon--I wonder if you'd call it a blogacation. At any rate, I probably won't post again until close to the New Year, unless something burns in my mind and has to be said. I'll have my whole family around me, which makes concentration hard, and I probably need to clear my brain by cooking and reading with grandchildren and doing all that kind of thing. Maybe I'll have fresh new thoughts when I start blogging again--we can all hope.
Meantime, to all of you who follow my blog, I wish you a blessed Christmas and a bountiful new year. I wish I could hug each and every one of you, but please let my very best wishes suffice.

A green Christmas

There's an old saying that a green Christmas means a full churchyard--I guess because the folk knew in the back of their minds that if there wasn't snow and cold to kill off bacteria, bugs, whatever, more people would die. When I was a child, my dad, a hospital administrator of necessity preoccupied always with the hospital census, would say, "A green Christmas means a full hospital." I'm not sure it's fair to apply that to Texas, where Christmas is almost always green. And certainly this year we've had more than our share of ice and sub-freezing temperature--any bugs of any kind ought to have been zapped..
I'm not sure if it's age or what, but I'm acutely aware of illness and death around me this holiday season. A man I greatly admired from my church died, after a long, agonizing battle with Alzheimer's, and I heard today of the death of the father of a friend--a man who suffered frequent bouts with pneumonia and other forms of ill health. A friend fell, knocked himself out, and broke both major bones in one ankle--he's in rehab and hoping to be home Christmas Eve. A neighbor's cousin had surgery, twice, for cancer, and the other day I got a message that my cousin's chemo was not working but was making her a wreck. She cries constantly, is agitated and restless (which I thought was pretty much her normal state anyway). Did I, the care facility inquired gently, want to discontinue the chemo and give her palliative care? Of course I did, but it's a weighty decision to make about another person's life (she is incapable of handling her affairs or making decisions, and I hold power of attorney though I've not seen her for over sixty years; I am her only living relative, which also strikes me as sad; she is in Toronto and I am way down here in Texas). Friends who have been on my prayer list a long time remain there, and I think my prayers get more fervent. As a friend of mine said to me, "There's a world of hurt out there."
Why this season this year? There is of course, no answer. Life goes on. But to me, I have had a wake-up call--again--to reach out to those who are ill or lonely or frightened and to those who grieve, not just at Christmas but all year long. Christmas, the time of rebirth and joy, just seems to make it all more poignant.
There is a passage from the Common Book of Prayer that speaks volumes to me, and I'd like to share it. It's often called the Prayer before Sleeping:

Keep watch dear Lord with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ, give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous, and all for your love's sake.

Chirstmas in Tahoe with a really busy author

Please welcome my Wednesday weekly guest, prolific author Kathi Daley. Her energy, from writing to cooking, sports, and gardening, amazes me. Leave a comment for Kathi, if nothing else then to say where do you get so much energy? Do you sleep?

 

It’s snowing as I write this. Huge Christmas snow that drifts slowly to earth, dancing to and fro, before it lands gently on the frozen surface of the meadow outside my window. The house is quiet and I am alone with only my thoughts, a crackling fire, and my dogs for company. I am lucky enough to live in a small community situated on one of the largest alpine lakes in the world. My house is surrounded by forest, making visits from the forest animals who call our region home a daily occurrence. While small-town living is not for everyone (just ask my sons, who couldn’t wait to move to a larger town the moment they graduated high school) I love it and couldn’t in all honesty see myself living anywhere else.

Christmas on the mountain is a particularly magical time of year. The small towns around the lake go all out to welcome holiday visitors with white lights shining from store windows, huge trees decorated with Christmas ornaments, and festive red bows displayed to draw in last-minute shoppers. Most years we have snow blanketing the area to allow for the much-anticipated opening of the ski resorts for which Tahoe is known. For me, Christmas is about spending time with family and friends as I juggle the demands of baking and decorating to ensure that every holiday is a memorable event.

Somewhere between enjoying the outdoor sports I love and my volunteer work in the community, I write two cozy mystery series. My Tj Jensen Paradise Lake Mysteries are full-length cozies of approximately 300 pages. The series is set in a small alpine town near a large freshwater lake, and the protagonist is a high-school gym teacher who lives on the family resort where she grew up. Books in this series are published three-to-four times per year.

I also write a series I think of as a cozy lite. Each book is between 150 and 200 pages, with a new story coming out every six-to-eight weeks. This series is also set in a small alpine town where the protagonist, Zoe Donovan, is the owner of a wild and domestic animal rescue and rehabilitation center. If you love having animals as a focal point in a story, you will love this series. My readers tell me that the appeal of these short books is the ongoing interaction between the characters as they live out their lives.

In addition to my cozy mystery series, I published a mystery/romance this holiday season. Road to Christmas Past is a heartwarming story about a woman who receives an early Christmas gift from her dead aunt and sets out across the country with a handsome PI to follow the clues to a family she never knew she had.

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Kathi Daley lives with her husband, kids, grandkids, and Bernese Mountain dogs in beautiful Lake Tahoe. When she isn’t writing, she likes to read (preferably at the beach or by the fire), cook (preferably something with chocolate or cheese), and garden (planting and planning, not weeding). She also enjoys spending time on the water when she’s not hiking, biking, or snowshoeing the miles of desolate trails surrounding her home. 

Books by Kathi: Zoe Donovan Mysteries: Halloween Hijinks, The Trouble with Turkeys, Christmas Crazy, and Cupid’s Curse (January 2014); Tj Jensen Paradise Lake Series: Pumpkins in Paradise, Snowmen in Paradise (January 2014); and Road to Christmas Past, a mystery/romance.

Visit Kathi:

Facebook at Kathi Daley Books

Twitter at Kathi Daley @kathidaley

Webpage www.kathidaley.com

Email: kathidaley@kathidaley.com

 

In the spirit of Christmas

Christmas is about many things, among them the blessing of friendship. It's a time we all seem ready to renew friendships, check in with people we don't see daily, take the opportunity to wish others a Merry Christmas a great New Year. I've taken that to heart today and had a very social day, eating breakfast, lunch and dinner out.
Taking the day backward, I went to dinner with good friends Kathie and Carol at Piola, an Italian restaurant  where I had wonderful lasagna with rich tomato sauce (and brought half home for tomorrow). Above, me in my dress-up, go to dinner clothes--a wonderful garment that my brother and sister-in-law gave me. The other night I was wearing a necklace they gave me, and when they complimented me on it I said, "I'm glad you like it. You gave it to me." Lots of laughter, and Cindy said, "Hmmm. I'm surprised I didn't keep it for myself, I like it so much." So let's hope they remember that they gave me this--what would you call it? Not quite a kimono, nor a hapi coat. Anyway, it's great, and I look forward to wearing it a lot more. And yes, we had an interesting, cheerful, fun dinner.
Lunch was with another good friend, Jean, with whom I always exchange Flowers of the Month cards as gifts. We schedule lunch and go together to get our flowers--today lovely roses--two sort of Tropicana and a red one, with holly and a sprig of evergreen. Great chicken salad sandwich at Lucille's, and we caught up with each other's plans for the holidays.
This morning I had breakfast with the Book Ladies, a group of women whose careers have revolved around books.  We meet once a month for breakfast. Some days we talk about books; other days, it's everything from politics to grandchildren. Most but not all of us are retired now. I've been going to that group for more than twenty years, and it has changed over the years as members come and go. No dues, no rules, just show up for breakfast and visit. Lovely tradition. I've been there when only one other person showed up. This morning there were twelve--the holiday spirit.
Yawn! All that socializing has worn me out.

A writer’s crossroads

I’m at a crossroads tonight and thinking of Robert Frost’s poem about the road not taken. I don’t have an active work-in-progress right now, though I have several thoughts and possibilities. It would seem the holidays would be a good time to be “between projects,” but I’ve done most of what I’ll do for the holidays—a small amount of entertaining, packages wrapped, plans made. Now it’s a question of waiting.

Like the narrator of Frost's poem, I have two roads open to me. The first would be to continue the two series I’ve started—Kelly O’Connell Mysteries and Blue Plate Murder Mysteries. A Blue Plate book would be next, and I have the opening catastrophic incident in mind but I’m not sure where to go from there. I don't have the answers to those old questions—Who? Why? I guess I’m waiting for inspiration to strike. It may be that inspiration hasn’t struck because I’ve been busy, but I’m not the sort to sit and think it out. I either get a bolt out of the blue or I don’t. Sometimes if I start writing it all becomes clear to me, but that’s a dangerous path.  And my publisher wants a synopsis before issuing a contract.

There are advantages to continuing the series. I get wonderful comments about them, though not an abundance of reviews. Maybe people who review aren’t the people I’m writing for. As books from a small publisher, they sell relatively well—I was after all the best-selling mystery author for Turquoise Morning Press for 2012. Not sure I’ll make it again this year, and I may have fallen behind on promotion in frustration over the gap between e-book and print (my July title has still not appeared in print). Other than that I’m settled into a comfortable relationship with a publishing company I like. The familiar always beckons.

But then there’s the thought that if you don’t branch out and try a new road, you stagnate. I have two new projects in mind—an academic murder mystery, which is in draft form, and a series featuring a dog rescue person. I think each has possibilities, but it’s like taking a big step into Frost's deep undergrowth. Would I pitch them to my publisher or would I self publish?

Self publishing as an indie is beginning to look a little less rosy these days, with stronger, lower-priced competition from the big houses. I read an article today that suggested Darwinian theory is about to hit independent publishing. Would I be foolish to give up the comfortable berth I have (I think it’s secure—hope so).

Fortunately, I don’t depend on my writing for living expenses—it’s “walk-around money plus”—so the decision is not crucial in that sense. Nor am I trying to build a huge career. But it is crucial in that I want to find projects that challenge me, keep me engaged, and keep me young at heart. And, egotistically, I like the satisfaction of people telling me how much they like my books. All writers are egocentric to one degree or another.

I have pondered this a long time and find my thoughts going in circles. Your thoughts and comments will be appreciated. Dare I take the road less traveled?

Just my opinion...

Two moral issues, one local although it has been noticed nationally, and one a longstanding national problem, are troubling me tonight.

In the Fort Worth area, a young man was sentenced to ten years probation for killing four people while driving drunk. The defense attorney came up with a deviously clever plea: affluenza. It seems the boy’s parents had showered him with everything except attention and discipline. I remember the time, now years ago, when my nephew, about the same age as this young man, locked himself out of his truck on a remote ranch road in southern Colorado. He had to walk sixteen miles for help, and he said he kept repeating to himself, “Actions have consequences.” The young man in question has never learned that lesson. Will he learn it on probation? Who knows? Ten years is a long time. As part of the deal, he is going to rehab, for which his father will pay $450,000 a year and it may take several years (wouldn't it have been cheaper and better to pay attention to the boy as he grew up?).. Once again, his parents rescue him. I know nothing about where he’s going, but I suspect he will have cushy quarters when a bit of a hardship experience might make him recognize reality and the enormity of what he’s done. But I was never in favor of a jail sentence.

Outrage has been instant over the “mild” sentence, and some have called for the dismissal of the seasoned judge who handed down the sentence. But I read something that made sense to me: if he’d been sent to prison, he’d probably be out in two years; this way, he’s under the thumb of the judicial system for ten long years. In addition he’ll get effective therapy, usually not available to kids in his situation. Yes, once again, he’s fortunate he comes from wealth. But if it makes a useful citizen out of him instead of a criminal, it’s worth the father’s money. Nothing will bring back the people he killed, but perhaps he’ll come out as a person who spends the rest of his life making amends. It’s the most we can hope for.

Gubernatorial candidate Gregg Abbot (let me be upfront: I am not a fan) is about to insert himself into the situation—to what end I’m not sure, except that action will appeal to his base. As always, right wingers need to learn about the separation of powers in our government. A citizen cannot meddle in the judicial system.

The other moral problem on my mind is on almost everyone’s mind today, the anniversary of the unimaginable horror of the massacre at Newton. I cannot begin to wrap my mind around the loss  of a child or grandchild in that manner . The school shooting in Colorado and the appalling number of children killed by guns in the year since Sandy Hook only reinforce the horror. I grieve for all those parents and want to clutch close the schoolchildren in my family.

Have we learned nothing? Liberals tells us that ninety percent of people want strict gun control laws. I’m not sure. In Colorado, where shootings prompted stricter laws, the people recalled the legislators who had passed the laws. And yet there is a loud anti-gun lobby. Personally, I’d like to see them all banned, but I know that won’t work. Why are legitimate gun owners worried about gun control laws? That boggles my mind.

I don’t have an answer. Do you? We have to stop school shootings! No conflict about that.

Selfies, weather and a great dinner

 

The ice is gone. I can walk across my porch or down my front steps without peril to life and limb. Of course it's sloppy and wet, and leaves are everywhere because the couldn't be blown and gathered as was the plan for early this week. Today brought bone-chilling rain, and I was colder than I had been when it was 16 degrees. Maybe that's what I cooked myself a good dinner tonight.

Don't get me wrong--I'm not one of those who eats cold cereal and calls it dinner. But I do sometimes settle for salad or a sandwich. Tonight I cooked a small marinated pork loin roast--lemon and garlic. I'll probably be eating it every which way until I tire of it and give it to the Burtons but it sure was good tonight. With eat, I had a medium red potato and leftover broccoli, both I confess heavily laden with butter. It was all so good, and I ate every bite.

Long before President Obama's so-called gaff with Danish Prime Minister Helle Thorning-Schmidt and a phone camera, I'd heard the term selfie but not understood it. When the Oxford Dictionary announced they were adding it, I looked it up online and found what all of you probably all know already: a picture of yourself taken with your cell phone.

After the headline-making incident at Nelson Mandela's memorial service, I decided I'd try it. Besides, I have a neat new haircut to show off. The results were not stunning. I probably took and erased ten shots, and I share this one only in the secure knowledge that you are all my friends and won't judge. But below is the best of the crop. To my mind I look like an eighty-six-year-old woman who  has been beaten about the face. Can I blame that on the lighting in my kitchen? It is a neat haircut, don't you agree? In rebuttal I offer the picture above, which many of you have seen.