Judy Alter's Blog, page 307
December 10, 2012
Home for the holidays
As the holidays approach, I get sort of sentimental about Christmases gone by. I remember the days when I automatically expected my grown children home for Christmas. Sure, when they married, we alternated years with in-laws and frequently we went to Santa Fe, but still they sometimes had Thanksgiving and/or Christmas in my house. Those days are gone—my family has grown too large to fit comfortably in my house; their houses are larger, and I admit dinner for sixteen is an effort for me. It’s all part of changing family dynamics that have been on my mind lately.
I raised four children, as a single parent from the time they ranged in age from six to twelve—those years I call the “casserole years” when I was in the car chauffeuring more than I was out, years when I was still at the core of their world and I knew almost everything they did (okay, there were some stories I heard years later that singed my hair).
I remember what a great shock it was to me when I realized that my children, now scattered across Texas, were communicating with each other without going through me. One would tell me the other was traveling, and I would bristle: why hadn’t they told me? Or some such similar thing. I thought I was Telephone Central, just as I thought I was Holiday Central. But I’ve learned, sometimes the hard way, that they have their own families and their own loyalties—they love me, but I am not at the center of the universe.
Today I have seven grandchildren. Each in his or her own way shows me affection, but I know it’s not the same as when my children were those ages and I was the center of their world. I remember babysitting Jacob one night when he was maybe eight months old. He woke with a bad dream, so I rocked him and he clung to my chest tightly and eventually went to sleep there. I hadn’t had a baby sleep on my chest and so look to me for comfort in years and it brought tears of joy. But if his mommy had been there, he would have gone to her—no question about it. And I know as much time as I spend with Jacob and as much as he loves me, his parents are the center of his world. He’ll ask, “When are my mommy and daddy coming?” I can never nor would I ever intrude on that relationship. I’ve had my day and it was wonderful. Now I’m grateful that I am still so much a part of the family and still so loved by my children and grandchildren.
IF you ask me my priorities in life, I’ll tell you always I’m a mom and a grandmom first, then I’m an author, and my third role (in order of significance) used to be that I was a publisher. Today I’m grateful I have an independent life that doesn’t depend totally on my family—I rather imagine they’re grateful for that too.
I raised four children, as a single parent from the time they ranged in age from six to twelve—those years I call the “casserole years” when I was in the car chauffeuring more than I was out, years when I was still at the core of their world and I knew almost everything they did (okay, there were some stories I heard years later that singed my hair).
I remember what a great shock it was to me when I realized that my children, now scattered across Texas, were communicating with each other without going through me. One would tell me the other was traveling, and I would bristle: why hadn’t they told me? Or some such similar thing. I thought I was Telephone Central, just as I thought I was Holiday Central. But I’ve learned, sometimes the hard way, that they have their own families and their own loyalties—they love me, but I am not at the center of the universe.
Today I have seven grandchildren. Each in his or her own way shows me affection, but I know it’s not the same as when my children were those ages and I was the center of their world. I remember babysitting Jacob one night when he was maybe eight months old. He woke with a bad dream, so I rocked him and he clung to my chest tightly and eventually went to sleep there. I hadn’t had a baby sleep on my chest and so look to me for comfort in years and it brought tears of joy. But if his mommy had been there, he would have gone to her—no question about it. And I know as much time as I spend with Jacob and as much as he loves me, his parents are the center of his world. He’ll ask, “When are my mommy and daddy coming?” I can never nor would I ever intrude on that relationship. I’ve had my day and it was wonderful. Now I’m grateful that I am still so much a part of the family and still so loved by my children and grandchildren.
IF you ask me my priorities in life, I’ll tell you always I’m a mom and a grandmom first, then I’m an author, and my third role (in order of significance) used to be that I was a publisher. Today I’m grateful I have an independent life that doesn’t depend totally on my family—I rather imagine they’re grateful for that too.
December 7, 2012
Lighten Up, Folks
The other day I posted a short notice on how dismayed I am at the Facebook posts that exhibit a gut-level hatred of President Obama, a hatred that goes far beyond disagreement with his political philosophies and is instead aimed at the man as a person. He is our elected president and deserves respect as such. I find it personally offensive when people are that bitter...and at the core, I always supsect racism, though most would deny it.
Today I'm a bit dismayed in a lighter manner, but I've been following a thread critical of the attention being paid to the pregnancy of the Duchess of Cambridge. I have seen such comments as "I thought we weren't part of England any more" and "Is this more important than the fiscal cliff?" In answer to the latter, not it's not, but it's a nice diversion.
In spite of the fact that we separated ourselves from the monarchy almost 250 years ago, most Americans are still intrigued by the pomp and circumstance of English royalty. Look at the way we have followed Queen Elizabeth's years on the throne, from her coronation to her marriage and the recent celebration of her sixty years (is that right?) on the throne. And isn't she wonderfully regal and yet at the same time sort of salt-of-the-earth real? I remember my daughter and I watching coverage of the funeral of Diana into the wee hours of the night, and most of us were, more recently, glued to the TV on the happy occasion of the wedding of Will and Kate, now the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. We seem to like all the ceremony that goes with the monarchy and is missing from much of American life. So why not follow the pregnancy, rejoice with the young couple, and worry when Kate is dehydrated enough to be hospitalized. Sure, hundreds of young women in this country have severe, acute morning sickness and it doesn't make the headlines, but hey, she's married to the heir to the British throne, the last great glamorous monarchy (yes, there are others but they don't have the same allure).
And yes, the whole thing took a tragic turn for the worse with the death, an apparent suicide, of the nurse who fell for a hoax and released information about Kate's condition. The journalists' desperation to get information, by hook or crook, reinforces my point about worldwide interest in the pregnancy but it also says something dark about journalistic integrity. My prayers go with the family of the nurse. NOw that's tragic news, worth complaining about.
But why not let the pregnancy be in the news and not grouse about it? Makes me think people are just looking for something to complain about. So complain about hungry, sick children in this country, abandoned dogs and cats, abused wives, gay couples who can't marry, cancer and HIV patients, wars we shouldn't be involved in--there are any number of causes. And after you complain, go out and do something--contribute to a canned food drive, adopt an animal, there are any number of ways to help in this world. The Duke and Duchess provide a light moment of relief.
.In this season of joy, let's share Will andKate's joy and stop complaining. And, hey, act like grown-ups and stop hating the man who has the heavy burden of steeering this country through troubled waters.
Happy holidays, everyone!
Today I'm a bit dismayed in a lighter manner, but I've been following a thread critical of the attention being paid to the pregnancy of the Duchess of Cambridge. I have seen such comments as "I thought we weren't part of England any more" and "Is this more important than the fiscal cliff?" In answer to the latter, not it's not, but it's a nice diversion.
In spite of the fact that we separated ourselves from the monarchy almost 250 years ago, most Americans are still intrigued by the pomp and circumstance of English royalty. Look at the way we have followed Queen Elizabeth's years on the throne, from her coronation to her marriage and the recent celebration of her sixty years (is that right?) on the throne. And isn't she wonderfully regal and yet at the same time sort of salt-of-the-earth real? I remember my daughter and I watching coverage of the funeral of Diana into the wee hours of the night, and most of us were, more recently, glued to the TV on the happy occasion of the wedding of Will and Kate, now the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. We seem to like all the ceremony that goes with the monarchy and is missing from much of American life. So why not follow the pregnancy, rejoice with the young couple, and worry when Kate is dehydrated enough to be hospitalized. Sure, hundreds of young women in this country have severe, acute morning sickness and it doesn't make the headlines, but hey, she's married to the heir to the British throne, the last great glamorous monarchy (yes, there are others but they don't have the same allure).
And yes, the whole thing took a tragic turn for the worse with the death, an apparent suicide, of the nurse who fell for a hoax and released information about Kate's condition. The journalists' desperation to get information, by hook or crook, reinforces my point about worldwide interest in the pregnancy but it also says something dark about journalistic integrity. My prayers go with the family of the nurse. NOw that's tragic news, worth complaining about.
But why not let the pregnancy be in the news and not grouse about it? Makes me think people are just looking for something to complain about. So complain about hungry, sick children in this country, abandoned dogs and cats, abused wives, gay couples who can't marry, cancer and HIV patients, wars we shouldn't be involved in--there are any number of causes. And after you complain, go out and do something--contribute to a canned food drive, adopt an animal, there are any number of ways to help in this world. The Duke and Duchess provide a light moment of relief.
.In this season of joy, let's share Will andKate's joy and stop complaining. And, hey, act like grown-ups and stop hating the man who has the heavy burden of steeering this country through troubled waters.
Happy holidays, everyone!
December 6, 2012
A very good day
The moon and stars must be aligned just right today. One friend on Facebook said she feels like shouting "I love the world!" and others echoed similar sentiments, indicating it was a good day. Here in Fort Worth it was a beautiful sunny day--a little cool when Jacob and I set out this morning and a little windy, but, as a woman I used to know said, "it faired off" and was delightful.
Jacob was home one more day, though maybe he could have gone to school without infecting anyone. Yesterday I thought I was a failure as a grandmother and he would grow up remembering me as the mean one--yes, you have to do your spelling. "Turn off the TV and pay attention." "No, you may not open the front door and wave at your friends who are leaving school when you've been home sick all day." "No, you can't go out to the apartment to see Elizabeth. She hasn't had a flu shot." I will say to his credit, he forgot, went into the apartment, was there about two minutes and said, "I can't stay. Juju said I can't come out here." So they talked through the door. But when he left last night I felt it had not, to say the least, been one of our better days.
Today I had a wonderful companion who was sunshine, laughter and giggles all day. We ran the errands I'd been itching to do all week--the jeweler's for a watch battery, Michael's for votive candle holder (where in the attic are mine?), Staples for an ink cartridge and paper, the liquor store for wine to last over the holiday, and--the treat, the surprise!--McDonald's for a happy meal. Only we got there too early--they were still serving breakfast. He decided he wanted hotcakes and then was dismayed that they don't come with a toy. Jacob spent a good part of the afternoon in the yard playing with the dog. I looked out once and the two of them were huddled together, their backs against the outside wall of the apartment. So sorry I didn't get a picture. Tomorrow he goes back to school and then to his other grandparents' for the weekend. Yeah, I'm relieved--but I will miss him.
Other good things happened--a preview of a great review of Trouble in a Big Box, lunch with a friend I've known for forty years, talk to on the phone frequently, rarely see--a real treat, and plans beginning to come together for the book signing Monday night. Yes, world, I'm a happy camper too. Hope the moon and stars stay wherever they are!
Jacob was home one more day, though maybe he could have gone to school without infecting anyone. Yesterday I thought I was a failure as a grandmother and he would grow up remembering me as the mean one--yes, you have to do your spelling. "Turn off the TV and pay attention." "No, you may not open the front door and wave at your friends who are leaving school when you've been home sick all day." "No, you can't go out to the apartment to see Elizabeth. She hasn't had a flu shot." I will say to his credit, he forgot, went into the apartment, was there about two minutes and said, "I can't stay. Juju said I can't come out here." So they talked through the door. But when he left last night I felt it had not, to say the least, been one of our better days.
Today I had a wonderful companion who was sunshine, laughter and giggles all day. We ran the errands I'd been itching to do all week--the jeweler's for a watch battery, Michael's for votive candle holder (where in the attic are mine?), Staples for an ink cartridge and paper, the liquor store for wine to last over the holiday, and--the treat, the surprise!--McDonald's for a happy meal. Only we got there too early--they were still serving breakfast. He decided he wanted hotcakes and then was dismayed that they don't come with a toy. Jacob spent a good part of the afternoon in the yard playing with the dog. I looked out once and the two of them were huddled together, their backs against the outside wall of the apartment. So sorry I didn't get a picture. Tomorrow he goes back to school and then to his other grandparents' for the weekend. Yeah, I'm relieved--but I will miss him.
Other good things happened--a preview of a great review of Trouble in a Big Box, lunch with a friend I've known for forty years, talk to on the phone frequently, rarely see--a real treat, and plans beginning to come together for the book signing Monday night. Yes, world, I'm a happy camper too. Hope the moon and stars stay wherever they are!
December 5, 2012
The amazing Nancy Drew
Especially for her time--the fifties and sixties--Nancy Drew was an amazing young lady. She could swim, dance, hike, do all manner of things. As one reviewer at today's Nancy Drew Luncheobn said, she could do anything. She had amazing survival skills, living through being shoved overboard on a cruise and being buried in a cave-in, among other disasters. For a young lady in a time when people didn't travel as freely as they do today, she was surprising well traveled--from the Netherlands to Arizona to Istanbul and other exotic places--in over 48 mysteries, she could do a lot of hopping around the world. Her mystery solving skills are beyind comparison; never mind that she relied on coincidence and lucky happenstance for a lot of her solutions. When us oldsters were reading her books way back then, we believed she could do all those things and that all those adventures could happen to her (we hadn't become cynical about the Cabot Cove Syndrome yet)--and we wanted to be Nancy Drew with her red convertible. In a room of over fifty women, only three had never read the books--and two of those just read their first to be on the discussion panel. Fascinating stuff, and it took many of us back a lot of years.
The menu at today's luncheon was pretty much from the fifties--high in carbs. There was Scarlet Slipper Raspberry Punch from The Scarlet Slipper Mystery; Crooked Banister Corn Bread from The Crooked Banister; Shadow Ranch Barbecued Beans from The Secret of Shadow Ranch (one of the earlier books); Mannequin Casserole from The Mysterious Mannequin; and Brass-Bound Trunk Candy from The Mystery of the Brass-Bound Trunk. I didn't taste the punch but others said it was pretty good; the cornbread was just that--cornbread; the barbecued beans were really really sweet--what we in Texas call northern beans. They were made with two cans pork and beans, not from beans soaked overnight, and cooked only two hours. Good, if you like sweet beans--and I do. The main dish, Mannequin Casserole, was a melange of ground beef, macaroni shells, tomato sauce, creamed corn and cheese with onion, bell pepper and mushrooms. Good, but as a friend next to me said, "It's sort of what we call ghouash," and another said "It's like the Doris' Cassereole you make, Judy." Still, if I weren't on the small portion kick, I'd have gone back for more.
Presenters synopsized each book from which a recipe came but they were hard put to tie the recipe to the book--the cornbread was actually mentioned on a specific page in Crooked Banister, but the reviewer for Shadow Ranch could only surmise that when they packed a picnic lunch for a day's outing, it included the beans. And the reviewer for The Mysterious Mannequin, in which Nancy finds herself in Istanbul, guessed that it was based on a dish from that region of the world. Hmmm. With canned corn?
The cookbook was originally compiled in 1973 by Carolyn Keene, the pen name used by the several authors who compiled the mysteries; a later version, Nancy Drew: Clues to Good Cooking was published in 2005 and was the book the recipes came from today.
Highlight came when Tracy Thompson read from Nancy Drew's Guide to Life which contains such gems (roughly paraphrased) as "If you see a bleeding injured man swimming toward your boat, be sure to stop and help him; he may be fleeing evil pursuers." Or, "Never disregard fine lines on a piece of paper--a microscope may reveal them to be fine printing." Or "If you see something resembling a shark in the water, don't fret. It's more likely a small submarine operated by thieves." Words to live by.
Fun event, and now I think I even want to reread one of the books--don't I remember a title about a winding staircase? And another about an old clock? The friend next to me said she still has all thirty-six of her books. If you want to delve more deeply into Nancy and her history, there are scholarly books today, such as Nancy Drew and The Women Who Created Her, which I suppose talks about The Stratemeyer Syndicate that created not only Nancy but the Hardy Boys and other series. A great era in young-adult literature--and we got a welcome glimpse back into it today! Kudos to Susan Oakley, Shari Barnes, and Human Relations at TCU for a great luncheon .
The menu at today's luncheon was pretty much from the fifties--high in carbs. There was Scarlet Slipper Raspberry Punch from The Scarlet Slipper Mystery; Crooked Banister Corn Bread from The Crooked Banister; Shadow Ranch Barbecued Beans from The Secret of Shadow Ranch (one of the earlier books); Mannequin Casserole from The Mysterious Mannequin; and Brass-Bound Trunk Candy from The Mystery of the Brass-Bound Trunk. I didn't taste the punch but others said it was pretty good; the cornbread was just that--cornbread; the barbecued beans were really really sweet--what we in Texas call northern beans. They were made with two cans pork and beans, not from beans soaked overnight, and cooked only two hours. Good, if you like sweet beans--and I do. The main dish, Mannequin Casserole, was a melange of ground beef, macaroni shells, tomato sauce, creamed corn and cheese with onion, bell pepper and mushrooms. Good, but as a friend next to me said, "It's sort of what we call ghouash," and another said "It's like the Doris' Cassereole you make, Judy." Still, if I weren't on the small portion kick, I'd have gone back for more.
Presenters synopsized each book from which a recipe came but they were hard put to tie the recipe to the book--the cornbread was actually mentioned on a specific page in Crooked Banister, but the reviewer for Shadow Ranch could only surmise that when they packed a picnic lunch for a day's outing, it included the beans. And the reviewer for The Mysterious Mannequin, in which Nancy finds herself in Istanbul, guessed that it was based on a dish from that region of the world. Hmmm. With canned corn?
The cookbook was originally compiled in 1973 by Carolyn Keene, the pen name used by the several authors who compiled the mysteries; a later version, Nancy Drew: Clues to Good Cooking was published in 2005 and was the book the recipes came from today.
Highlight came when Tracy Thompson read from Nancy Drew's Guide to Life which contains such gems (roughly paraphrased) as "If you see a bleeding injured man swimming toward your boat, be sure to stop and help him; he may be fleeing evil pursuers." Or, "Never disregard fine lines on a piece of paper--a microscope may reveal them to be fine printing." Or "If you see something resembling a shark in the water, don't fret. It's more likely a small submarine operated by thieves." Words to live by.
Fun event, and now I think I even want to reread one of the books--don't I remember a title about a winding staircase? And another about an old clock? The friend next to me said she still has all thirty-six of her books. If you want to delve more deeply into Nancy and her history, there are scholarly books today, such as Nancy Drew and The Women Who Created Her, which I suppose talks about The Stratemeyer Syndicate that created not only Nancy but the Hardy Boys and other series. A great era in young-adult literature--and we got a welcome glimpse back into it today! Kudos to Susan Oakley, Shari Barnes, and Human Relations at TCU for a great luncheon .
December 4, 2012
The flu, cabin fever, Nancy Drew, and the end of the world
Yesterday I said to Christian, "No, of course he doesn't have the flu. He'd feel a lot worse, achy, and his stomach would be involved." Well, that shows what a good diagnostician I am. Jacob has the flu, diagnosed by a nose swab at the doctor's office today--no wonder my brother always says, "Don't tell me if they feel hot; take the temperature." So Jacob and I are stuck with each other at least through tomorrow. He's still coughing, still has fever though lower, and is contagious. (Yes, I've had a flu shot, and I figure if I haven't gotten it by now--it started Friday when he spent the entire night breathing on me--I'm not going to; hope that's not faulty logic.)
Yesterday I had him all day; this morning he was at the doctor's most of the morning, and then Jordan came to let me keep a lunch date. And I had a good nap in the afternoon, so it wasn't hard. Tomorrow she'll come to let me take almost two hours to go to a luncheon at TCU. But Jacob and I are both tiring of each other's company, and we have cabin fever. I have a bunch of errands I'd like to get done, so I keep telling my compulsive self that the world won't end if I don't do them for a few days.
The luncheon tomorrow is one of a series sponsored by Human Rrelations and I'm looking forward to it. It's a Nancy Drew luncheon, with dishes made from recipes in the Nancy Drew Cookbook--who even knew there was such a thing? I only have one granddaughter young enough to be interested--the other two have outgrown Nancy Drew, though I don't think I did until I was twelve or so. Kids are so much more sophisticated today--blame it on social media, cell phones, iPads, and the like. That aside, I'm just interested in the whole Nancy Drew canon and am curious about the luncheon. Should be fun.
I've also gotten some work done while Jacob's been here--a new final scene to the novel I've been working on. Now to proofread it one more time, and then I'll send it off. Nice closure for the end of the year. Not starting a new proejct until January.
So life goes along, and Christmas won't be cancelled or even delayed because I may not do my errands till Friday or Saturday. The world will still revolve. Which reminds me--I was delighted to receive an invitation to a party for Skeptics and Optimists. It says,, "If the sun rises on Dec. 22, we'll party." Dec. 21 is of course the day the Mayan calendar predicts the end of the world. I feel a bit about that as I did about the millenium when it approached--a little apprehensive, not that the world will end, but that something bad could happen.. But I'm an optimist--it probably won't.
Just looked at the labels for this post--the wide array really indicates that I've rambled. Bear with me folks, it's cabin fever...and the season.
Yesterday I had him all day; this morning he was at the doctor's most of the morning, and then Jordan came to let me keep a lunch date. And I had a good nap in the afternoon, so it wasn't hard. Tomorrow she'll come to let me take almost two hours to go to a luncheon at TCU. But Jacob and I are both tiring of each other's company, and we have cabin fever. I have a bunch of errands I'd like to get done, so I keep telling my compulsive self that the world won't end if I don't do them for a few days.
The luncheon tomorrow is one of a series sponsored by Human Rrelations and I'm looking forward to it. It's a Nancy Drew luncheon, with dishes made from recipes in the Nancy Drew Cookbook--who even knew there was such a thing? I only have one granddaughter young enough to be interested--the other two have outgrown Nancy Drew, though I don't think I did until I was twelve or so. Kids are so much more sophisticated today--blame it on social media, cell phones, iPads, and the like. That aside, I'm just interested in the whole Nancy Drew canon and am curious about the luncheon. Should be fun.
I've also gotten some work done while Jacob's been here--a new final scene to the novel I've been working on. Now to proofread it one more time, and then I'll send it off. Nice closure for the end of the year. Not starting a new proejct until January.
So life goes along, and Christmas won't be cancelled or even delayed because I may not do my errands till Friday or Saturday. The world will still revolve. Which reminds me--I was delighted to receive an invitation to a party for Skeptics and Optimists. It says,, "If the sun rises on Dec. 22, we'll party." Dec. 21 is of course the day the Mayan calendar predicts the end of the world. I feel a bit about that as I did about the millenium when it approached--a little apprehensive, not that the world will end, but that something bad could happen.. But I'm an optimist--it probably won't.
Just looked at the labels for this post--the wide array really indicates that I've rambled. Bear with me folks, it's cabin fever...and the season.
December 2, 2012
A cooking weekend
Seems like I spent most of the weekend cooking--and I can't think of a better way to spend a weekend. Friday night, with two little boys for supper, I fixed hot dogs, canned corn, and potato chips (okay, that's not really cooking)--neither boy ate well, and it turned out that both had slight colds. By the next morning, Jacob was really sick but that's another story.After Max went home and Jacob was settled I made peanut butter cookies, the old recipe that my mom handed down--gosh but they smell wonderful fresh out of the oven. And made myself salmon cakes for supper--have enjoyed them all weekend and am sad to say I was piggy enough to eat two for lunch today so they're all gone.
Saturday's big project was coq au vin made the old-fashioned way, so that it simmers a long time in the sauce. There's much reduction of sauces involved--something that my impatience usually makes difficult, but I did it right this time. One of the tedious things about this dish was chopping--carrots, celery, onions and eventualy mushrooms. But I got it all together, cooked it and put it in the fridge.
This morning I woke with the jitters--can't explain it, but I was just plain anxious. Cooking is often a good antidote, so after I talked to Jordan, found out Jacob had a 102 fever, and they weren't going to church, I finished off the coq au vin. Fished the chicken out, sauteed the mushrooms, reduced the sauce once again and put it all back together. And then back in the fridge. Spent the rest of the morning wrapping Christmas gifts. I'm way ahead of the game--not unusual for me.
Tonight, Jordan and Christian came with Jacob--now 102.9, though medicine took it down and he felt okay but not great. Did eat dinner with us, and Elizabeth came in from her yoga classes in time for supper. Chicken was so tender it fell off the bone--one piece (I had used thighs) literally did fall apart and got lost in the sauce, which was rich and good the way only a sauce cooked for hours can be. It was also chock full of veggies--carrots, celery, onion and mushrooms. Christian of course wanted nothing to do with the veggies but the rest of us loved them.
My neighbors put new flickering white lights on the arbor outside my dining room window, and we lit the Christmas lights inside the house for the first time this season. I used my red-and-green plaid china, and we felt festive. Lovely evening--so nice to have family around and so nice to have Elizabeth as part of the family. Counting my blessings once again.
Tomorrow is a babysitting day, though he requires little attention. I shudder to admit I'll park him in front of the TV, but his parents will bring some movies, and maybe we'll do a puzzle or two, but, please Lord, not Spiderman again! Jacob can't go back to school until he's been fever-free for 24 hours.
December 1, 2012
Do you live in an old house?
My house, cozy and snug in a 2011 snowstormThe decorative dentil molding over the porch gave way to age several years agoMy house was built in 1922. It wears its age proudly and well. Over its ninety years, it has softened and gentled until it wraps itself around me in a way new houses never do. More than a house, it's home and has been for twenty years. The floors are scuffed and scraped—you can see where my Aussie slept every warm night, preferring the wood floor to his bed. I guess the oil from his coat gradually wore away the finish. Same thing in the spot in the office, where he always slept at my feet. And under my rolling chair—and I do roll from desk to credenza to get this, that or the other—the floor is similarly scraped. Some previous owners weren’t smart about water damage from plants, and there are some huge circular stains in the dining room. Even the new floor that was put in the add-on family room ten years ago shows stress and strain by the back door to the yard—too many muddy dogs and children have gone in and out. When one of my daughters suggested I have the floors redone, my answer was ready: too difficult to live through, too expensive, and shiny would floors would make this grand old lady (the house, not me) uncomfortable. The next occupant will have to redo the floors—but I hope that’s a long way down the road.When something breaks in an old house, it really breaks. It seems like I have a water leak somewhere all the time which means high water bills and even higher plumbing bills. Commodes are big offenders—they leak, they run, they periodically re-flush themselves even if you’re not in the room. The plumber explained that one to me and it sort of made sense. Most recently the commode in the guest apartment sprang a leak—and warped the wood floor so that several boards had to be placed. I could not live in my old house without Bundock Construction—brothers Lewis and Jim. They did some major remodeling in 2000, taking out a partial wall and putting in French doors, redirecting duct work, giving me a new attic staircase because they said the old one would kill me, and finishing with a much needed paint job. When they finished, they said “Call us. You’re one of ours now.” I’m sure they’ve lived to regret those words, because I call almost every week, for everything from a light bulb high above the kitchen soffet to a broken bird feeder.
I’m convinced old houses get dirty faster than new ones—they have cracks and crevices through which dirt sifts, windows don’t fit tightly (vines have been known to grow in those little windows over the bookcases that flank my Art Deco fireplace). There’s a crack between tile floor (those old tiny octagonal tiles) and baseboard behind the bathroom sink, and most mornings a gecko comes through to visit with me. I wait for him and welcome him. Thanks to Socorro Escobar who keeps my house clean. Love old houses, hate to clean them.
At night I lie in bed and look at a ceiling with so many cracks that it looks like a road map. I listen to my house creak and groan and it settles a tiny bit. Occasionally there’s a loud, unidentified noise, but I figure if the dog isn’t alarmed, I won’t be either. I’m home, safe, and comfortable.
November 29, 2012
Mercury in retrograde, bad moon--and all that gone
This week has been really difficult with Jacob and homework--we knew it would be hard to get him to re-adjust after DisneyWorld and a weekend with his cousins, but I had no idea how hard! Yesterday was the final straw--he "tricked" me about his homework, pouted his way through spelling, demanded I not watch him. It went from bad to worse, and I'm ashamed that I lost my patience. Then when his dad seemed to be running late I told him to put on his hapkido clothes, and he threw a tantrum, threw things on the floor, was rude to me when I tried to help him. He did not, he emphasized, want to go to hapkido. He was too tired. I will say when Aunt Betty arrived, he brightened within two minutes and began telling her all about how wonderful DisneyWorld was. But clearly, this was not the way either one of us wanted to spend our aftrnoons, and I was left in a bad mood--to say the least.
Then Elizabeth, my garage dweller and yoga guru, posted something about doing moon salutations because of the bad moon. When I queried her today it seems the bad moon was with us for a month but now is gone--gosh, I'm glad I didn't know that for the whole month. And I'm still not sure what a "bad" moon is. I also read that Mercury has been in retrograde. I don't think you can effectively Google "bad moon," but I did Google Mercury in retrograde, and it seems that Mercury has been going backward, not forward, from Nov. 6-26. According to the source I read, it's a time when your plans go awry but also a time of strong intuition and high coincidences.
Did any of that account for my Jacob difficulties this week? Not sure. But today he told me his dad had talked to him and said if he was ugly to me any more, he'd begin to lose Christmas presents--now there's a realistic approach. I talked to him and worked out some guidelines--no "tricking" about homework, because homework is serious business; when I am helping him, he cannot hide his work from me; when we're doing a pre-test, he may set up a carel like they have at test time at school. Result? Today we did the homework easily, with laughter and smiles. Copied his spelling list, putting consonants in one color and vowels in another--and he did it without any guidance from me. Then we did the pre-test, and he got them all right!
It may not have been Mercury in retrograde--today I fed him a huge banana and a great glob of peanut butter which he happily ate with a fork (the way he requested it--sounds awful to me). He eats lunch at 10:30, so I'm sure he's starving at 3:00 and he didn't eat his usual peanut butter the last couple of days. So low blood sugar may well have been as instrumental as Mercury or that bad moon.
But I'm glad Mercury is no longer in retrograde (I like using that phrase now that I know what it means) and the bad moon is gone. I expect good things from December.
Then Elizabeth, my garage dweller and yoga guru, posted something about doing moon salutations because of the bad moon. When I queried her today it seems the bad moon was with us for a month but now is gone--gosh, I'm glad I didn't know that for the whole month. And I'm still not sure what a "bad" moon is. I also read that Mercury has been in retrograde. I don't think you can effectively Google "bad moon," but I did Google Mercury in retrograde, and it seems that Mercury has been going backward, not forward, from Nov. 6-26. According to the source I read, it's a time when your plans go awry but also a time of strong intuition and high coincidences.
Did any of that account for my Jacob difficulties this week? Not sure. But today he told me his dad had talked to him and said if he was ugly to me any more, he'd begin to lose Christmas presents--now there's a realistic approach. I talked to him and worked out some guidelines--no "tricking" about homework, because homework is serious business; when I am helping him, he cannot hide his work from me; when we're doing a pre-test, he may set up a carel like they have at test time at school. Result? Today we did the homework easily, with laughter and smiles. Copied his spelling list, putting consonants in one color and vowels in another--and he did it without any guidance from me. Then we did the pre-test, and he got them all right!
It may not have been Mercury in retrograde--today I fed him a huge banana and a great glob of peanut butter which he happily ate with a fork (the way he requested it--sounds awful to me). He eats lunch at 10:30, so I'm sure he's starving at 3:00 and he didn't eat his usual peanut butter the last couple of days. So low blood sugar may well have been as instrumental as Mercury or that bad moon.
But I'm glad Mercury is no longer in retrograde (I like using that phrase now that I know what it means) and the bad moon is gone. I expect good things from December.
November 28, 2012
Revisions, agony, despair--and light at the end of the tunnel
It's no secret that I've struggled with the fourth Kelly O'Connell mystery--struggled, agonized, torn my hair, given up and gone back and decided it was all awful. You name it, I did it. But at long last I finished the draft, read it through a couple of times, revising, correcting as I went. Then I gave it to Fred--I keep explaining who he is, but Fred was the prof who saw me through graduate school when I wanated to specialize in western American literature. He taught genre fiction classes among other American lit subjects--westerns, mysteries, sci fi. And in the years since--would you believe 40?--he has remained friend and advisor. He reads everything I write--or almost everything.
I knew that after all that struggle I had sort of galloped across the finish line in a rush. Fred spotted that and made some suggestions, and throughout he saw things that I simply needed another pair of eyes to see. He sent one single-spaced page of suggestions, mentions of time warps that weren't meant to be, discrepancies, etc. I thought it would take weeks of work.
This morning, after a late start, I turned to Fred's list--and finished all but one huge major part. It went much more smoothly than I anticipated, and I had fun doing it. Now I have an important concluding scene to write...but I decided enough was enough for one day. Then I'll re-read a couple of times--but by now I'm afraid I know the thing by heart. It will take a brand new proofreader to catch errors.
While rewriting and correcting, I noticed a couple of things: I thought I had proofread this manuscript until it could not possibly contain an error or a typo--and yet today, even in casual glancing, I found all kinds of both. In one place, early in the book, Fred suggested that I pick up some information from previous books--for the reader who hasn't met Kelly. I went back and the best passage I found was in the very first book, Skeleton in a Dead Space, so I copied it, put it in place and went in to edit it to fit. I was amazed aat how my style has changed--dare I say improved--since that first book. After all these years, can it be that I'm learning to write? Fred says this is a more complex book than the previous ones, which surely is a step forward.
Being back in Kelly's world has revitalized me. I'm seeing ahead and finding more Kelly stories in my head. My editors had asked how many I planned, and I didn't have a clue. At the time I was struggling with number four and more seemed hopeless, but now I have several ideas. I like Kelly, and I like the people around her. I had even considered--sort of--giving up mysteries and writing about Scotland, perhaps a time travel novel (I know, Diana Gabaldon did it and can't be equalled) partly because I thought such a book would have more depth than my cozies. Certainly it would require more research. But Fred's use of the word "complex" made me think twice. Sure, I may write about Scotland some day--always a dream--but for now I'm happy with Kelly and her soon to-be-introduced counterpart, Kate, of the Blue Plate Mystery Series. Watch for Murder at the Blue Plate Cafe in Feburary.
Meantime, Kelly number four is tentatively titled Dogs, Drugs, and Death. I'd love your comments on the title.
I knew that after all that struggle I had sort of galloped across the finish line in a rush. Fred spotted that and made some suggestions, and throughout he saw things that I simply needed another pair of eyes to see. He sent one single-spaced page of suggestions, mentions of time warps that weren't meant to be, discrepancies, etc. I thought it would take weeks of work.
This morning, after a late start, I turned to Fred's list--and finished all but one huge major part. It went much more smoothly than I anticipated, and I had fun doing it. Now I have an important concluding scene to write...but I decided enough was enough for one day. Then I'll re-read a couple of times--but by now I'm afraid I know the thing by heart. It will take a brand new proofreader to catch errors.
While rewriting and correcting, I noticed a couple of things: I thought I had proofread this manuscript until it could not possibly contain an error or a typo--and yet today, even in casual glancing, I found all kinds of both. In one place, early in the book, Fred suggested that I pick up some information from previous books--for the reader who hasn't met Kelly. I went back and the best passage I found was in the very first book, Skeleton in a Dead Space, so I copied it, put it in place and went in to edit it to fit. I was amazed aat how my style has changed--dare I say improved--since that first book. After all these years, can it be that I'm learning to write? Fred says this is a more complex book than the previous ones, which surely is a step forward.
Being back in Kelly's world has revitalized me. I'm seeing ahead and finding more Kelly stories in my head. My editors had asked how many I planned, and I didn't have a clue. At the time I was struggling with number four and more seemed hopeless, but now I have several ideas. I like Kelly, and I like the people around her. I had even considered--sort of--giving up mysteries and writing about Scotland, perhaps a time travel novel (I know, Diana Gabaldon did it and can't be equalled) partly because I thought such a book would have more depth than my cozies. Certainly it would require more research. But Fred's use of the word "complex" made me think twice. Sure, I may write about Scotland some day--always a dream--but for now I'm happy with Kelly and her soon to-be-introduced counterpart, Kate, of the Blue Plate Mystery Series. Watch for Murder at the Blue Plate Cafe in Feburary.
Meantime, Kelly number four is tentatively titled Dogs, Drugs, and Death. I'd love your comments on the title.
November 27, 2012
Post Thanksgiving doldrums--and recovery
Guess it was a hard day all around. Jacob and I did much better on homework today, but we took frequent breaks--I had until seven o'clock, so I could stretch it out. Got everything done except the third read-through of his book (you have to do three a day--yikes!). I went through the kitchen about six calling "Okay, pause the TV. We're going to read that book," and the above is what I found. I let him sleep until about 6:30 but, knowing he's an awful grump when he wakes up from an unexpected nap, I began to nudge him then. First he was almost crying because he was soooo tired; then he was starving and could not wait ten minutes until we went to the Old Neighborhood Grill. By the time we got there he was quiet but okay, ate his grilled cheese and seemed to brighten. Then neighbor Mary Dulle charmed him by getting him to talk about DisneyWorld and by the time we left he was as effervescent as usual.It was that kind of day--up and down. I got a lot done but in retrospect couldn't tell you what. Still I swept a lot of small stuff--from paying my cousin's bills to personal notes of sympathy and thanks--off my desk. And I was much more patient with my friend above about spelling and reading. Got a few errands run--bank deposit, gas station, books delivered to a store--and a bunch of work landed on my desk in emails, so I'm busy. I'm always a happier camper when I've got work to do. So maybe we're all getting past the post-holiday doldrums.
