Judy Alter's Blog, page 313
September 20, 2012
The Village Gaarden--a free short story
No, that's not a typo. "Gaarden" is how Norwegians would spell "garden," and my short story features Kelly O'Connell in what may be the closest thing to a fantasy tale that I'll ever write, fantasy not being my natural bent. Short stories are hard for me--either a crystal clear idea suddenly strikes or I stare at a blank computer screen. But when I realized a lot of mystery authors write short stories I decided to try my hand at it. This one that feature Kelly from my Kelly O'Connell Mysteries, still in her Fairmont neighborhood, just sort of came to me. I'm not sure I can even tell you where the idea came from, but I shaped and worked it until it was became a story that incorporated a family story and recipe. So, sit with Kelly in The Village Gaarden, leave the real world behind for a moment, and enjoy kjottkaker or, as we call them, Norwegian hamburgers. So good. You can download the story and the recipe here free:http://www.judyalter.com/files/shortstory.pdf. If you haven't met Kelly yet, I hope this will give you a slight idea and make you want to know her better; if you have met her, enjoy this different glimpse of her.
I have written fewer than twenty short stories in what has been a relatively long writing career. Fourteen of them, previously published, are in my collection Sue Ellen Learns to Dance and Other Stories (available on Kindle and Smashwords for ninety-nine cents). But this is not a plug for that book. It's about mysteries and short stories and The Village Gaarden," which is special to me. I hope you enjoy it.[image error]
I have written fewer than twenty short stories in what has been a relatively long writing career. Fourteen of them, previously published, are in my collection Sue Ellen Learns to Dance and Other Stories (available on Kindle and Smashwords for ninety-nine cents). But this is not a plug for that book. It's about mysteries and short stories and The Village Gaarden," which is special to me. I hope you enjoy it.[image error]
September 18, 2012
Wild Women
Today I went to a meeting of the WILD Women Book Group at my church. I always thought that was a strange name for a church book group, but I found out just recently that WILD is an acronym that stands for Women in Livestock Development. Wait a minute! These are women in an inner city church. I can almost guarantee that no one has livestock. Turns out they take collection every month to support one of my favorite causes: Heifer International. What that group does is a whole different story, but if you don't know, it's definitely worth finding them through Google or another search engine.
This year the wild women have chosen not the spiritual titles you might expect but mysteries, and today, for their first meeting, they read my Skeleton in a Dead Space. When I asked if my presence would inhibit them, minister Cyndy Twedell who spearheads the group laughed aloud and said, "Not likely." She was right--it didn't.
Cyndy is terrific at leading book discussions--I doubt she'll ever want to leave the ministry, but she could always teach literature and do it well. She focused on asking the ladies to talk about character--in the allotted hour she never got past character to plot because everyone had so much to say. Authors have long said that readers--especially critics and reviewers--find symbolism that the authors never intended. Today it wasn't so much symbolism as qualities in the characters. Kelly was praised for compassion, especially her determination to identify the skeleton and give her the burial and recognition she deserved as a person rather than just let a pile of bones go to an unmarked grave. What I didn't say was that I had to give Kelly a reason for being so determined to solve the mystery of the identity of the skeleton. But maybe authors write symbolism and qualities into works naturally without realizing it. Others said they could picture some of the characters--Keisha, the office manager (one person wanted to know who would play her in the movie) or Anthony, the carpenter whose all bluff but has a soft heart or even Joe, the young wannabe gansta. It was all fun, and I didn't talk much.
My friend Jean was there and was silent the whole hour--she said later it was because it was her first meeting with the group. But when she spoke up, she blew me away. She said, in effect, she was nervous about reading it because when you know someone so well, you want them to do well--and she thought I had. She enjoyed the book. I know she's not a mystery reader, so that was double praise.
There were a lot of references to the second book, No Neighborhood for Old Women, which several had read. Someone would say "Well, Keisha has a bigger role in the second book" or "There's more about the Guthries in the second book." I bet I sold quite a few of that one today too. What fun!
[image error]
This year the wild women have chosen not the spiritual titles you might expect but mysteries, and today, for their first meeting, they read my Skeleton in a Dead Space. When I asked if my presence would inhibit them, minister Cyndy Twedell who spearheads the group laughed aloud and said, "Not likely." She was right--it didn't.
Cyndy is terrific at leading book discussions--I doubt she'll ever want to leave the ministry, but she could always teach literature and do it well. She focused on asking the ladies to talk about character--in the allotted hour she never got past character to plot because everyone had so much to say. Authors have long said that readers--especially critics and reviewers--find symbolism that the authors never intended. Today it wasn't so much symbolism as qualities in the characters. Kelly was praised for compassion, especially her determination to identify the skeleton and give her the burial and recognition she deserved as a person rather than just let a pile of bones go to an unmarked grave. What I didn't say was that I had to give Kelly a reason for being so determined to solve the mystery of the identity of the skeleton. But maybe authors write symbolism and qualities into works naturally without realizing it. Others said they could picture some of the characters--Keisha, the office manager (one person wanted to know who would play her in the movie) or Anthony, the carpenter whose all bluff but has a soft heart or even Joe, the young wannabe gansta. It was all fun, and I didn't talk much.
My friend Jean was there and was silent the whole hour--she said later it was because it was her first meeting with the group. But when she spoke up, she blew me away. She said, in effect, she was nervous about reading it because when you know someone so well, you want them to do well--and she thought I had. She enjoyed the book. I know she's not a mystery reader, so that was double praise.
There were a lot of references to the second book, No Neighborhood for Old Women, which several had read. Someone would say "Well, Keisha has a bigger role in the second book" or "There's more about the Guthries in the second book." I bet I sold quite a few of that one today too. What fun!
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September 17, 2012
Rumors are flying ....
Isn't there a song by that title? I'm s sure it's about love but the rumors I'm hearing are about terror--or, more specifically, terrorists. Seems they have come across the border from Mexico by the hundreds of thousands--well, I'm sure there were indeed a lot of them--and they are planning coordinated, simultaneous attacks across the nation. Federal trooops are training the the wilds of the American West (hmmm, wonder if they are militia?), and we are all advised to stay out of malls and churches. One person wrote on a recent listserv that the country is going to hell in a handbasket and all any of us can do is try to survive. I surely don't want to live with that philosophy, nor do I want to stay out of malls and churches--I can avoid huge public gatherings. Hey, good excuse for not going to football games.
Actually I can avoid malls without a second's hesitation, but last Sunday as I sat in church I thought about how comfortable and safe I felt in the sanctuary where I've worshipped for many years. Yes, we had a church tragedy in our city--a deranged man entered with a gun, killed and injured several before taking his own life. But we thought it was an aberration. I think we always feel safe in our own little corner of the world. Sometimes I feel almost sad, guilty--what's the word I want?--that I am so blessed and safe while so many in the world live with horror and terror--there's that word again. George McGovern once said he was tired of wars that old men start so they can send young men to die. I would add the elderly, women, and children, for they seem to be the ones most often caught in the crossfire.
But back to those rumors. I'd like to dismiss them. I'd like to believe that our government has better intelligence in place than to allow that to happen. Nor do I believe the government knows all about this extensive plot and is keeping it secret. Have you noticed that nothing much seems to stay secret in Washington? Then again, after 9/11, we began to hear of warning signs, even outright warnings from aircraft schools and the like, that should have alerted the government and didn't. Are we better prepared today? Somewhere I've read statistics on how many terrorists plots have been foiled in this country--pretty impressive. Still those rumors, while no doubt exaggerated, are troubling. After all I have seven grandchildren, and I fervently pray that they grow up in as safe a world as I have lived in all these years. Right now, they are so well loved, so protected, so confident that the world is a good place, I don't want them to turn fearful (except, of course, of strangers offering candy or puppies).
Meantime Mr. Romney seems to step in it every time he opens his mouth, one gaffe after another. I cannot believe that anyone would believe him qualified to lead this country in this perilous times of terrorism (notice how often that word comes up), let alone vote for him. But I talked with a young woman the other day who is from Mexico and will vote for him because she doesn't believe in welfare. In Mexico they don't have welfare, and she says that makes people work. I didn't argue with her, though I could think of several arguments, primarily about the Mexican economy, because I like her a lot and because she happened to be cutting my hair at the time--didn't want to upset her. But it reminded me of the days when women were advised to vote a single issue ballot--on the right to abortion, a subject which seems to have gotten lost in recent campaign rhetoric, though it was hot for a while. Mr. Romney would like to make this election a single-issue one--about welfare and the economy, but I believe there is so much more to consider. Like international diplomacy, a front on which he has not distinguished himself. And like terrorism--there it is again--on which he spoke in haste without forethought, not a presidential quality.
I hope someone in the debates asks our two candidates what they believe about domestic terrorism and how to combat it. I'd really like to hear both sides.
Actually I can avoid malls without a second's hesitation, but last Sunday as I sat in church I thought about how comfortable and safe I felt in the sanctuary where I've worshipped for many years. Yes, we had a church tragedy in our city--a deranged man entered with a gun, killed and injured several before taking his own life. But we thought it was an aberration. I think we always feel safe in our own little corner of the world. Sometimes I feel almost sad, guilty--what's the word I want?--that I am so blessed and safe while so many in the world live with horror and terror--there's that word again. George McGovern once said he was tired of wars that old men start so they can send young men to die. I would add the elderly, women, and children, for they seem to be the ones most often caught in the crossfire.
But back to those rumors. I'd like to dismiss them. I'd like to believe that our government has better intelligence in place than to allow that to happen. Nor do I believe the government knows all about this extensive plot and is keeping it secret. Have you noticed that nothing much seems to stay secret in Washington? Then again, after 9/11, we began to hear of warning signs, even outright warnings from aircraft schools and the like, that should have alerted the government and didn't. Are we better prepared today? Somewhere I've read statistics on how many terrorists plots have been foiled in this country--pretty impressive. Still those rumors, while no doubt exaggerated, are troubling. After all I have seven grandchildren, and I fervently pray that they grow up in as safe a world as I have lived in all these years. Right now, they are so well loved, so protected, so confident that the world is a good place, I don't want them to turn fearful (except, of course, of strangers offering candy or puppies).
Meantime Mr. Romney seems to step in it every time he opens his mouth, one gaffe after another. I cannot believe that anyone would believe him qualified to lead this country in this perilous times of terrorism (notice how often that word comes up), let alone vote for him. But I talked with a young woman the other day who is from Mexico and will vote for him because she doesn't believe in welfare. In Mexico they don't have welfare, and she says that makes people work. I didn't argue with her, though I could think of several arguments, primarily about the Mexican economy, because I like her a lot and because she happened to be cutting my hair at the time--didn't want to upset her. But it reminded me of the days when women were advised to vote a single issue ballot--on the right to abortion, a subject which seems to have gotten lost in recent campaign rhetoric, though it was hot for a while. Mr. Romney would like to make this election a single-issue one--about welfare and the economy, but I believe there is so much more to consider. Like international diplomacy, a front on which he has not distinguished himself. And like terrorism--there it is again--on which he spoke in haste without forethought, not a presidential quality.
I hope someone in the debates asks our two candidates what they believe about domestic terrorism and how to combat it. I'd really like to hear both sides.
September 15, 2012
Saturday night and no TV
Well, not quite. But what do you do with a six-year-old when the TV in his playroom is out and the one in my kitchen is also out--I really like to watch the news or the food channel while I cook. A fruitless 45 minutes with someone-- in where? Pakistan? India?--who I couldn't undertand; he reached the conclusion (I think) that the problem was with AT&T U-Verse and a service person will be out between 4 p.m. and 8 p.m. tomorrow night. Till then, the only TV working is that in my office, so Jacob and I had a cozy supper at my desk--I threatened him with death and destruction if he spilled his sparkling cider on my desk and still brought in an extra towel for mopping, just in case. Now we're cozily sharing the rest of the evening. The phone consultant asked if my internet was working, and I ran to check--that would be the final insult. I'm afraid to turn any of the working things off for fear they won't work again in the morning--but this week, of all weeks, I was looking forward to Sunday morning news programs. Wonder if I can win that battle before we go to church?
I also have a sinking feeling that without the TV to go to sleep by, Jacob will want to sleep with me again. Not a restful night for me at all.
I had hoped we could work on the half-done jigsaw puzzle tonight but with TV so rare he seems glued to it. I'm reading Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David, so I can lose myself in that. It's interesting to me, because after telling audiences several times that cozies feature female amateur sleuths, here's one that features a retired police officer who's opening a PI office. Then again, it's probably not a cozy, although it's got a lot of the characteristics such as wacky characters. But the opening scene is definitely not murder off-stage. And the basic mystery has me puzzled. I can lower the volume on Jacob's TV program and read in content--if I can get him to get off the desk top and go sit in the chair again. Togetherness is nice, but I'm getting a tad claustrophobic.
Remind me again about the days before TV, the internet, iPads and all those things. Being without makes me feel suspicious of everything--is the electricity going to go out? The air conditioning (which we really don't need tonight anyway)? Trying to be flexible about adjusting to this change in things--and all the Jacob closeness I'm enjoying.
Sophie is sleeping through the whole thing.
September 13, 2012
You can too fight City Hall
For years, friends, even my friendly plumber, shook their heads and said, "You never win with the water department." Well, I'm here to tell a different story. My water bill is always high, but this month it was double what my neighbor's was--and his lot is a tad bigger than mine. I called the plumber, and he came out, put a pressure gauge on the system, checking the house, garage apartment, and watering system. No leaks. I called the water department and suggested they check the meter and change it out just to be sure. They checked--and no surprise, it was working just fine. I got a form letter from the water department informing me all was well.
Meantime I had contacted a reporter at the newspaper who does a column titled "The Watchdog," investigating consumer advocacy problems. Pretty soon I got a call from the nicest, most helpful woman at the water department--no, I"m not going to give her name because I don't want her inundated with calls. She explained that they would change the meter just to be sure and said that my water bill is erratic. If someone uses about the same amount for months and then has a sudden increase, the problem is clear. Mine is high some months, low a few--though it has never gone as low as one neighbor, even in mid-winter. She has arranged for an expert to do a "water audit" next week. I did explain I knew one high bill was due to a commode that had taken on a life of its own before I discovered it and had it fixed.
The next day another woman called to tell me that I was getting a "leak adjustment"--nice enough that it would pay the water bill some months. Next time you have a leak repaired, contact the water department and send them a copy of the plumber's work order. Magic!
How to make your way through bureaucracy and find these helpful people is all explained in the book, Watchdog Nation: Bite Back When Businesses and Scammers Do You Wrong, by Dave Lieber. It has a chapter titled "Your Meter is Accurate: Sure, Right." I'm rushing out to buy a copy, with a deep thanks to Mr. Lieber for steering me in the right direction. Find his book on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/Dave-Liebers-Watchdog-Nation-Businesses/dp/0970853025/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1347576136&sr=1-1&keywords=Watchdog+Nation
The woman I first talked to said most sincerely, "We really do want to help." I believe her. What a nice surprise this has all been. And it was all done without anger and antagonism. Love it! The water department may be my new best friend--or maybe Dave Lieber is!
Meantime I had contacted a reporter at the newspaper who does a column titled "The Watchdog," investigating consumer advocacy problems. Pretty soon I got a call from the nicest, most helpful woman at the water department--no, I"m not going to give her name because I don't want her inundated with calls. She explained that they would change the meter just to be sure and said that my water bill is erratic. If someone uses about the same amount for months and then has a sudden increase, the problem is clear. Mine is high some months, low a few--though it has never gone as low as one neighbor, even in mid-winter. She has arranged for an expert to do a "water audit" next week. I did explain I knew one high bill was due to a commode that had taken on a life of its own before I discovered it and had it fixed.
The next day another woman called to tell me that I was getting a "leak adjustment"--nice enough that it would pay the water bill some months. Next time you have a leak repaired, contact the water department and send them a copy of the plumber's work order. Magic!
How to make your way through bureaucracy and find these helpful people is all explained in the book, Watchdog Nation: Bite Back When Businesses and Scammers Do You Wrong, by Dave Lieber. It has a chapter titled "Your Meter is Accurate: Sure, Right." I'm rushing out to buy a copy, with a deep thanks to Mr. Lieber for steering me in the right direction. Find his book on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/Dave-Liebers-Watchdog-Nation-Businesses/dp/0970853025/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1347576136&sr=1-1&keywords=Watchdog+Nation
The woman I first talked to said most sincerely, "We really do want to help." I believe her. What a nice surprise this has all been. And it was all done without anger and antagonism. Love it! The water department may be my new best friend--or maybe Dave Lieber is!
September 12, 2012
What is happening to our country?
No lighthearted blog tonight about my grandson, my dog, my peaceful and happy life, not even a subtle bit of marketing for my books. I am too deeply saddened and troubled by the attack on our embassy at Benghazi, the death of an apparently sterling young diplomat and three of his colleagues, and by the bitterness it has brought out in our nation. It's no secret to those who know me that I admire President Obama as a person--I think he is thoughtful, caring, and no more ambitious than anyone would have to be to be in public office. I saw him, today, stepping forward with dignity and courage to reaffirm the defense of our nation and the importance of its values. Yet I also have seen him misquoted, bitterly attacked, with quotes from several years ago taken out of context and made to seem that he made them today. What has happened to our nation in eleven years?
The tragedy of 9/11 brought us together, albeit under a leader I did not particularly admire. But we united. We recognized that what happens to even one of our people--or several thousand--happens to us, touches us. Today, we have lost that. Politicians have used the embassy tragedy for political advantage; individuals have used it to buttress their hatred and--let's be honest--prejudice. I am saddened. I think of civilizations that collapsed and disappeared. Is that what's happening to America? Have we had our run and grown so big in our hubris that we've lost sight of who we are, who we started out to be--one people, united.
Strangely, the country of Libya comforts me. I don't think this was an act by the Libyan people. It was an act by a small terrorist group, and I am heartened to see Libyans holding signs of sympathy and rallying in support of America. And I am comforted that, contrary to rumors about dragging Ambassador Stevens body through the streets, Libyans were actually rushing him to a hospital in an attempt to save him. I applaud President Obama's heightened security for embassies in questionable countries, but I cannot applaud any condemnation of the Libyan people. I suspect most of them are as devastated as we are--or should be.
Pray for our country and our people.
The tragedy of 9/11 brought us together, albeit under a leader I did not particularly admire. But we united. We recognized that what happens to even one of our people--or several thousand--happens to us, touches us. Today, we have lost that. Politicians have used the embassy tragedy for political advantage; individuals have used it to buttress their hatred and--let's be honest--prejudice. I am saddened. I think of civilizations that collapsed and disappeared. Is that what's happening to America? Have we had our run and grown so big in our hubris that we've lost sight of who we are, who we started out to be--one people, united.
Strangely, the country of Libya comforts me. I don't think this was an act by the Libyan people. It was an act by a small terrorist group, and I am heartened to see Libyans holding signs of sympathy and rallying in support of America. And I am comforted that, contrary to rumors about dragging Ambassador Stevens body through the streets, Libyans were actually rushing him to a hospital in an attempt to save him. I applaud President Obama's heightened security for embassies in questionable countries, but I cannot applaud any condemnation of the Libyan people. I suspect most of them are as devastated as we are--or should be.
Pray for our country and our people.
September 11, 2012
Chronicle of Sophie
Youd be tuckered too if you had all of Sophie's responsibilities.This morning she had to clean out my closet--shred one cork heel lift, scatter various tissue paper bits around the bedroom, destroy one unidentifiable plastic object, and flatten an empty small jewelry box that had fallen on the floor. Then she had to go outside for a while and patrol for those pesky squirrels that have the nerve to invade her domain. This afternoon Jordan and Jacob took her for a long walk at a fairly rapid pace. She thinks she wore them out. A friend is staying temporarily in my guest house, which only adds to Sophie's responsilities. She's taken to lying in the corner of the yard by the apt., but periodically she jumps up to peer in the window and check on things.She went inside once but seemed pretty uncertain about those strange surroundings. Her guarding is best done outside.
Pretty much she's adjusting to being an only dog. It does have its upside--she gets a lot more inside time, a lot more love and attention, and a lot more snacks and treats. She doesn't seem to mope around as much, although she still sometimes lies on Scooby's bed--that's where she went to shred the heel lift. I'm sure Scooby would have disapproved, and he never would have helped her.
I suppose, someday, if a rescue dog's picture jumps out at me and says "I was meant for you," I'll get a second dog. But for the time being I too am comfortable with our arrangement. At sixteen months, Sophie has calmed down a lot, but she still has a way to go.
When strangers come in, she manages to sit and contain her excitement if someone reminds her in a stern voice but you can see her little body quiver with excitement. When Jordan comes in, she has long, howling conversations with her, and when she and I play tug over a toy, or toss and fetch (usually late at night), she growls at me fiercely. Sometimes in the house, she likes to play "Catch me if you can"--I can't, so she still wears a leash around. There was that embarrassing time I couldn't open the door to discuss a disputed water meter reading because I couldn't catch the dog. The meter reader and I had to yell at each other through the thick beveled glass of the door.
Sophie sleeps in her crate at night without a peep, and in the morning when I open the door she immediately comes for a long loving session, looking soulfully at me with those little brown eyes that almost get lost in her fuzzy face. Definitely a lover not a fighter.
September 10, 2012
A luncheon talk and some spiffy bling
Yesterday it was my great privilage to speak to the opening luncheon of the Women's Ministries at my church--about 80 women. They are embarking on a mystery reading program this fall and thought it would be fun to begin with one of their own. I felt honored. Given free rein to talk about anything I wanted, with books as the theme, I talked about my writing from the age of ten on. As all writers can imagine there were lots of trials and tribulations and a lot of funny things that happened along the way--like the time I won the best juvenile novel of the year award from the Texas Institute of Letters and the woman presenting said, "Good old so-and-so (I have no idea of his name) who usually wins this award didn't enter this year, so it goes to Judy Alter." There was laughter at that and a lot of other stories I worked in along the way.Speaking doesn't come easily to me, though everyone says I do it well. They just don't know the agony I go through beforehand. I made my friend Betty listen to this one in the car Friday on the way to Granbury, and she pronounced it interesting and funny, so I was somewhat reassured. She said she'd listen on Sunday to see if I forgot anything I'd said on Friday--guess not since she didn't complain.
Afterward several women said they thought they knew me before, but now they knew a lot more about me. Hmmm--didn't think I revealed any secrets. What Betty said was, "I never knew you went through all that." I think readers don't recognize how much rejection and discourgement writers face on the way to a career. I hope I was able to present it with humor and optimism.
My daughter Jordan was there as moral support and a help when I was signing books. I know most of these ladies, but the best of us can have memory lapses while signing--I was grateful the church plastered big name tags on everyone.
About a week before this a close friend called to say I needed to look spiffy for the luncheon. "Spiffy?" I asked. She explained she didn't exactly know what she meant. Maybe Jordan would know. Jordan decided the only seasonal spiffy in my closet was the bright purple I'd worn to church the week before, so I bought spiffy in Granbury. If you read the previous blog, you know about my buying an aubergine (okay, eggplant) top with a ruffle and a bit of bling--a lilac and silver long but skinny kind of thing you can fling around your neck in various ways. I'm never good at that flinging stuff nor am I really the ruffle kind--my retirement wardrobe consists mostly of jeans, capris, and big shirts. Spiffy with bling were the subject of much discussion at the luncheon...and even at a lunch table today where one of the ladies had read the earlier blog.
The chuch has a WILD Women book club. That name always threw me--I don't quite associate Wild Women with a church--but it turns out that's an acronym. The group raises money for the Heifer Interntional project, so WILD stands forWomen in Livestock Development. They'll discuss Skeleton in a Dead Space on the 18th, and I'll go back for that discussion.Then they'll move on to Julia Spencer-Fleming so I'm in good company.
September 8, 2012
The Wild Kingdom
When was the last time you did a jigsaw puzzle? I haven't done them in years, though I remember a time when friends used to come for Christmas dinner and stay until two in the morning putting together intricate jigsaw puzzles. We especially prized those mystery puzzles where the picture on the box didn't give a clue to what the finished puzzle should look like. I'm into much simpler puzzles these days, because I'm doing them with six-year-old Jacob. I've discovered that 100-piece XXL puzzles are what we need. In a flurry of economy I bought a 500-piece puzzle at the Dollar Store--the pieces were so small that I was totally discouraged and Jacob was uninterested. Then I bought a puzzle that changed in various lights, like a holograph or something. It was Darth Vader, and I thought Jacob would love it--but all the pieces were so dark neither of us knew where to begin. Besides, Sophie chewed two of the pieces.
Tonight we did our second 100-piece puzzle. The first was a majestic lion and it took us three afternoons after school, but tonight he would not quit until we finished and this was a more complicated one. I've taught him about straight edge pieces, but then he tries to put them together without matching the edges. It's also hard to get him to look at the picture on the box to see where the pieces go, but he's getting better. He's fitting more pieces together himself, and he's so delighted when he does that he high fives me. He learned tonight to look for the blue butterfly and then the baby cheetah and then the stripes of the zebra and the different size spots of the two cheetahs, and he kept saying two things: "This is so much fun" and "This is really hard, but we're good at it." Be still, my heart--what better way is there to spend a Saturday evening than doing a jigsaw puzzle with your grandson! Above is our masterpiece. He kept wanting to hold it up--I told him it would fall apart. Then he wanted to tear it apart, but I said after we'd worked so hard on it, we had to leave it for a day or two. And I will admit the evening, in which I had planned to get some work done, flew by. Yes, Jacob, this is so fun!
September 7, 2012
A Granbury Day
I am not by nature one of those women who can spend a day shopping. I don't browse or linger gracefully. Pausing over this thing or that bores me, and I get cranky. When I go to the grocery store I have a list and I stick to it. So, today, when I went shopping on the square in Granbury, I had a plan. My longtime good friend Linda and her husband Rodger own a classy store called Almost Heaven, but after 33 years Linda's ready to give it up. They're having a "going out of business sale," so Betty and I went, Christmas gift list in hand. And I got lots of little things that I hope friends and family will appreciate. If small, they were gifts chosen with love and care.
One problem about this is that last year about this time Linda had a sale--not a going-out-of-business one (she doesn't pull that kind of trick)--and I bought several presents, mostly for family, forgot I had them, and bought other things for the people they were intended for. So this year, I have much of my shopping already done. And now I've added these finishing touches. It's fun to wander the store and talk to Linda about the various items.
I had another thing on my shopping list. My friend Jean said I need to wear something "spiffy" to talk to the Women's Ministries luncheon Sunday, but she couldn't define spiffy. We decided Jordan would know. Jordan's verdict was I don't have much spiffy in my closet, except the colorful top I wore to church last week--people would remember. (Come on, do you think people pay that much attention to what I wear to church?). So while in Granbury I browsed in some rather high-priced stores. Found a top (to be worn over tights) that I liked a lot but it was one price and the ruffle that went with it was the same price. I couldn't see paying $58 for a ruffle, so Betty found me a piece of "bling" that went perfectly. I bought it, and then the store owner (I presume she was) said, "But you didn't take the ruffle." I explained I didn't want to pay that much for a ruffle, and she said, "Oh, no it goes with it. It's part of the purchase." So now I have a top, a ruffle, and some bling. I'll be a spiffy knockout on Sunday.
We had lunch at a quiet, classy place called 1890 upstairs over some of the shops, quiet enough that we could visit. I had a filet sandwich--superb; Betty had salmon fettucine (her husband doesn't like her to cook salmon in the house); Linda had the grilled chicken spinach salad, and we all raved. Another friend joined us who had just been to Scotland, so she and I had a high old time talking about places we'd been and the like.
All in all, a good day, the kind of shopping I tolerate (actually we got there at 10:30, left a little after one and at least an hour of that was lunch). Maybe one hour shopping. Home in time to pick up Jacob.
Tuckered. After Jacob's mom came for him, I had a cozy nap.
One problem about this is that last year about this time Linda had a sale--not a going-out-of-business one (she doesn't pull that kind of trick)--and I bought several presents, mostly for family, forgot I had them, and bought other things for the people they were intended for. So this year, I have much of my shopping already done. And now I've added these finishing touches. It's fun to wander the store and talk to Linda about the various items.
I had another thing on my shopping list. My friend Jean said I need to wear something "spiffy" to talk to the Women's Ministries luncheon Sunday, but she couldn't define spiffy. We decided Jordan would know. Jordan's verdict was I don't have much spiffy in my closet, except the colorful top I wore to church last week--people would remember. (Come on, do you think people pay that much attention to what I wear to church?). So while in Granbury I browsed in some rather high-priced stores. Found a top (to be worn over tights) that I liked a lot but it was one price and the ruffle that went with it was the same price. I couldn't see paying $58 for a ruffle, so Betty found me a piece of "bling" that went perfectly. I bought it, and then the store owner (I presume she was) said, "But you didn't take the ruffle." I explained I didn't want to pay that much for a ruffle, and she said, "Oh, no it goes with it. It's part of the purchase." So now I have a top, a ruffle, and some bling. I'll be a spiffy knockout on Sunday.
We had lunch at a quiet, classy place called 1890 upstairs over some of the shops, quiet enough that we could visit. I had a filet sandwich--superb; Betty had salmon fettucine (her husband doesn't like her to cook salmon in the house); Linda had the grilled chicken spinach salad, and we all raved. Another friend joined us who had just been to Scotland, so she and I had a high old time talking about places we'd been and the like.
All in all, a good day, the kind of shopping I tolerate (actually we got there at 10:30, left a little after one and at least an hour of that was lunch). Maybe one hour shopping. Home in time to pick up Jacob.
Tuckered. After Jacob's mom came for him, I had a cozy nap.
