Judy Alter's Blog, page 328
February 23, 2012
More doggy stories
Kenny the dog trainer came today. Sophie learned "sit" in a snap, but hey! She already knew it. The question for her is "Do I want to sit right now?" Then we worked on not going out the open the front door--she was pretty good about it, but we'll have to see how she does in future practice sessions with me. And always the jumping--we worked as much on my correction technique as we did on disciplining her. She had a real workout, and I expected her to be exhausted tonight--great expectatons don't always pan out. She has found a new chew toy--the Kilim rug I just put back down in the office. Took it up when she wasn't potty trained, had it cleaned, and moved it. Put it back for the fundraiser last Sunday. She bunches it up to make a nice, chewable edge. I'll give it a couple of days with trying discipline. I need to teach her not to chew on it, but I don't want to sacrifice a good rug.
Tonight was memoir class and as always I planned to feed Linda. This time I thought I'd get sandwiches from the artisan bakery in the neighborhood--on their website they list several really enticing combinations, but a tiny note warns that they have different sandwiches on different days. I called. They had a muffaletta with green olives (of course) and another, maybe turkey, with tapenade. I really really do not like olives. Asked if they could make a couple with the olives on the side and was told they were already made (at one o'clock in the afternoon). Hmmm--not sure I want sandwiches for supper that were made in the morning. Called Linda. Helpfully, she said, "I love olives!" When asked if she wanted to go to the Neighborhood Grill (made famous in my Kelly O'Connell mysteries, as if it weren't already the favorite neighborhood hangout) or have salad at the house, she said, again being helpful, "It doesn't matter to me." I said we'd go out; when she got here I had thrown everything in the vegetable drawer into a tossed salad, added a can of tuna, and made a quick dressing. Linda added an avocado she'd gotten in a quick stop at Sam's. Really good.
The snack at memoir class was finger sandwiches made with thinly sliced bagels--sliced vertically and not horizontally as you normally would with a bagel. One class member works at a church where they have a kitchen operating all day every day (my dream for our church). The cook slices donated bagels and fills them with various things. Tonight we had ham salad on jalopeno bagels and chicken salad on whole wheat. I loved the jalopeno/ham and now have the leftovers--thank you, Claudine. The church also uses this profusion of bagels to feed the homeless once a week.
Memoir class was good as always. We went from a straightforward and well done piece about a family member to a fall-off-your-chair funny excerpt from a novel and ended with a thoughtful and provocative piece about family relationships and not rushing to judgment. Then we all got to talking about yoga, hot yoga, dangerous poses, careless teachers, etc. Tonight the laughter sticks with me and echoes in my ears.
Tonight was memoir class and as always I planned to feed Linda. This time I thought I'd get sandwiches from the artisan bakery in the neighborhood--on their website they list several really enticing combinations, but a tiny note warns that they have different sandwiches on different days. I called. They had a muffaletta with green olives (of course) and another, maybe turkey, with tapenade. I really really do not like olives. Asked if they could make a couple with the olives on the side and was told they were already made (at one o'clock in the afternoon). Hmmm--not sure I want sandwiches for supper that were made in the morning. Called Linda. Helpfully, she said, "I love olives!" When asked if she wanted to go to the Neighborhood Grill (made famous in my Kelly O'Connell mysteries, as if it weren't already the favorite neighborhood hangout) or have salad at the house, she said, again being helpful, "It doesn't matter to me." I said we'd go out; when she got here I had thrown everything in the vegetable drawer into a tossed salad, added a can of tuna, and made a quick dressing. Linda added an avocado she'd gotten in a quick stop at Sam's. Really good.
The snack at memoir class was finger sandwiches made with thinly sliced bagels--sliced vertically and not horizontally as you normally would with a bagel. One class member works at a church where they have a kitchen operating all day every day (my dream for our church). The cook slices donated bagels and fills them with various things. Tonight we had ham salad on jalopeno bagels and chicken salad on whole wheat. I loved the jalopeno/ham and now have the leftovers--thank you, Claudine. The church also uses this profusion of bagels to feed the homeless once a week.
Memoir class was good as always. We went from a straightforward and well done piece about a family member to a fall-off-your-chair funny excerpt from a novel and ended with a thoughtful and provocative piece about family relationships and not rushing to judgment. Then we all got to talking about yoga, hot yoga, dangerous poses, careless teachers, etc. Tonight the laughter sticks with me and echoes in my ears.
February 22, 2012
Thuoghts on dogs
I have "liked" the Dogs Against Mitt Facebook page, but I don't consider myself active in that movement and I'm (probably) not buying a T-shirt. What Mitt Romney did to his dog Seamus is shameful, and I do believe you can tell a lot about a man, or a woman, from the way they treat their dogs. But in the overall political chaos of this year, let's move on.
I am trying to be active, or at least helpful, in efforts to save lovely dogs who are about to be euthanized for no reason except that the shelter where they are is overcrowded. New dogs come in--older ones must go to make room, and as a result some wonderful sweet animals have been put down.
I have a Facebook friend, Kathy Edwards, who has made this her cause. Kathy is also the wife of western singer Don Edwards, one of my all-time favorites, and I knew her in that context years ago--we used to compare notes on our first grandchildren--but I haven't seen her in a long time. Now I feel like I'm getting to know her again. Kathy posts as many as ten pictures a day of dogs from various shelters who are on the EU list. Each one breaks my heart. Some are "owner surrenders"--another poster asked how an owner can do this? Give up a creature they've known and loved? I look at my two, and I know I couldn't do it--someone in my family would take my dogs if I couldn't care for them. But my two are also the reason that I can quell the impulse to rush out and save every loveable dog on Facebook. I've got my hands full. But I hope by posting, I'm showing the dogs to some caring people who can fit one or more into their lives. I am newly friended with Judy Obregon who also posts about dogs in jeopardy.
Today there was a darling cross breed, rust colored with a long coat, who does tricks--and was doing one on camera. And a beagle with the most soulful eyes you've ever seen. Both were owner surrenders. Both had apparently known loving homes--and now they're in a cold, impersonal shelter. Tore me up.
A couple of things I've learned along the way: the Fort Worth city animal shelter (not to be confused with the Humane Society of North Texas) keeps animals in deplorable conditions. I know budgets are tight everywhere, but surely comething can be done. And the local humane society--where I got Scooby--is NOT a no kill shelter. Makes sense--eight years ago this month when I got him one of the staff said to me that it was amazing he had not been put down since he was a big dog (I call him medium at 55-60 lbs) and was "older"--three and a half. I looked at him and wondered how anyone could put down such a beautiful, loving creature.
Meantime, my two are keeping me busy. Timing is of the essence in the morning--I have to schedule things just right so Sophie doesn't get impatient to go out in the yard before Jacob comes to get his "good morning love" from her on the way to school. I put Sophie out to do her business, bring her in to eat in the study while Scoob goes out to pee and eat his breakfast--the one time he will not tolerate her is when he has food, even a treat. Once Sophie's eaten, she wants to go outside, and no amount of discipline so far will keep her from jumping on me. Most mornings I've got the timing down, but this morning, I got up too early, ended up putting both dogs out, and once she's out there with Scooby she won't come in until she wants to. Who's running this show anyway? Neither one of them ate until I came home at noon.
Sophie's a lot bigger now, but this was taken when Scoob first decided maybe he could tolerate her. She barks, runs and jumps at him until he tellsher firmly to back off. After all, he's the senior citizen.At night Scooby sleeps on his foam bed next to my bed and Sophie sleeps in her crate at the foot of the bed. I love knowing they're there, and I hope they love knowing I'm close by. Neither makes a peep--except Scoob sometimes snuffles like an old man. I don't know that I could live without a dog.
February 21, 2012
Got chili?
This is a picture of Tolbert's Restaurant in Grapevine, an iconic and authentic chili parlor. Frank Tolbert was the founder and moving spirit behind the annual chili cook-off in Terlingua, Texas. He first opened his restaurant in 1976. Today his daughter and her husband serve forty gallons of chili a day. They still use her father's recipe. Pardon the white car--I'm not a good photographer.I was scheduled to have lunch with Melinda from TCU Press today, so I called to ask how she felt about pink eye. "I hate it!" was her vehement reply. But Jacob had developed pink eye and would only be sent home from school if he went, so he was mine for most of the day. I thought I'd take him to lunch with us, but his mother came and got him about eleven, took him to the doctor and fed him while Melinda and I indulged in wine and salad at Patrizio's--our favorite lunch. Jacob was a lamb all day--mostly watched TV, played with his Legos, and every once in a while came to the office to visit or make an announcement. His frequent question, after determining that everyone else was in school: When will the children be out of school? My first answer was six hours. But about three, when I had gone to nap with a stern warning to wake me only in emergency, he came calling, "Wake up! Unlock the door! I want to wave at my teacher." I'm afraid I said no. Good thing I had locked the high-up dead bolt.
All this quiet had a great benefit--I got a good start on revising and finishing my chili book. Decided on the organization and did a new outline,sorted out recipes, and saw that I have a lot of work ahead of me. I've been talking to the folks at Texas Tech about this for over a year--we get close and then one of us backs off. But I think the editor is ready to send it for outside appraisal if I'll just get it done, and we're talking about pictures, etc. My big chore now is mostly going to be cut and paste without losing attribution--I'm a little daunted by the prospect. But there is quite a bit of new material I want to add.
It's been a fun book to research, but I will still welcome recipes. So, if you have an unusual chili recipe (I have plenty of traditional, thank you) or a suggestion for something to do with chili--like Frito Pie, nachos, appetizers, etc.--please do send it to me at j.alter@tcu.edu, and I'll be sure to credit if I use it. Can't promise to use every recipe and can't promise a comp copy of the book. That's all out of my hands. Recipes from all over all are welcome because I make the point that chili may have begun in Texas--it really did, and not in Mexico as many people believe--it is now almost a naitonal dish. The title of this book at this point is still Texas is Chili Country.
February 19, 2012
Oh what a wonderful wonderful day
The lyrics to that old gospel song pretty much sum up my feelings about the day. It was the day of my big fundraiser for Lon Burnam--I gave this party only in part because Lon is my friend--more because I think it's important to keep his clear, strong voice in the Texas legislature. Lon's office brought me some Paschal High School mementos for decorations--the selection of a representative for the new ISD district is big news right now--along with much appreciated beer and wine. I fixed most of the food--liver pate, a salmon spread (not the smoky one I usually do but I really liked this and have eaten a lot of it tonight), and a crudities tray that was I thought the peak of my cooking accomplishment for the day--or week. For those with a sweet tooth, I made mini chocolate muffins--I've mentioned this before, but it's the Weight Watchers recipe that calls for a box of cake mix, a can of pumpkin, and a cup of semi-sweet chocolate morsels. I told Jordan a whole cupcake is only one point, and these are tiny. "So I can eat five?" I also made a pound cake and some experimental lemon-basil cookies. I thought they balanced the other things well, but I'm not a fan of lemon desserts and I couldn't taste much basil. Jay and Susan came for leftovers tonight (lots of beer in my fridge right now) and Jay said he could taste the basil. Only things I didn't make: guac and chips, and ranch and roasted tomatillo salsa for the crudities. And I had my own very special party angel. Jordan whizzed through the house, catching details I had missed or that were more important to her than to me. She kept up with discarded dishes, refilled dishes as necessary, and was charming to everyone. She has a special talent for that.
The event was from two to four, and Lon seemed pleased with it. I was bushed, but Jordan and I got the kitchen cleaned in record time. It worries me a bit that an event like that wears me out--what, me aging! No never! But I figured out it's as I told granddaughter Edie years ago--my feet have grown old, but I haven't. If my feet didn't hurt so badly, I'd have been fine. Tonight I have my energy back--and I only had a brief nap.
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I wouldn't overshadow Lon for anything, but my big excitement of the day was the cover to my next Kelly O'Connell Mystery, No Neighborhood for Old Women. My publisher, who did the cover, emailed it today, and I love it. It perfectly matches the cover of the first one, Skeleton in a Dead Space, and you know what they say about branding. Watch for the digital launch April 8 and print editions a couple of weeks later. Now to begin my pre-pub publicity. What fun.
February 18, 2012
Rainy day blues--and a seminar
Rain today all day, varying from a light drizzle to a steady gentle rain. Not cold, but if the humidity is 95% and the temperature in the 50s, it always feels chilly. A good day to stay inside with a good book and take a long nap, but that's not what I did. I was at TCU at nine o'clock for a mass media communications career conference presented by the Society of Professional Journalists (Fort Worth chapter) and TCU's Schieffer School of Journalism. College students and others from all over North Texas attended--I'd say at least 175, and the keynote speaker, a woman I greatly admire, gave solid information on sending out your resume, doing the all-important interview, etc. From my point of view, I should have stayed in that warm bed an hour longer, but I admired the very practical information she provided. It's just that I doubt I'll be sending out any resumes soon.
Then the breakout sessions--on pr, broacast, online work, newspapers, visual communication, and magazine and book publishing--the latter where I was on a panel with Skip Hollandsworth of Texas Monthly and Bob Francis of Fort Worth Business News.
It was fun. There was a moderator, but Skip, a talkative and gregarious soul, did the actual moderating and kept things moving--blessings on him. The students were focused and responsive, anxious to talk about their varying goals. In the first session, most of them wrote daily--journaling, a couple of bloggers, etc. I was surprised that in the second session only one wrote with any frequency--a young woman who had a blog about what she and her children did. We tried to stress the importance of writing daily and of discipline. I thought maybe the second session was less sucessful than the first, but as I left a young woman who had been honest in revealing her uncertainty about what she wanted, thanked me and said, "You really inspired me." That made my day, and I told her so.
Home to lunch, some odd work at my desk, a bit of reading, and that long nap the day deserved. Woke up so loggy that I haven't been much good all evening, but I did make the last spread for tomorrow's fundraiser.
Tomorrow is supposed to be sunny and pretty--perfect day for the thirty to forty people at the fundraiser, though I haven't cleaned the porch. I'll consider that in the morning. But today is muddy and wet, and I have dirty dogs. And a very clean house. I've worked hard all day to make the two compatible. My old dog is content to lie on his bed most of the day, although he refuses food if it's raining--haven't quite figured that one out, except that maybe he considers the rain a personal affront and his way of protesting is to refuse to eat. The young one gets bored and wants to go out every so often. Then she doesn't like it, especially if she's alone, so she sits by the door (under the eaves fortunately) and looks pitiful. Cross your fingers please that I can avoid muddy footprints until tomorrow evening.
Then the breakout sessions--on pr, broacast, online work, newspapers, visual communication, and magazine and book publishing--the latter where I was on a panel with Skip Hollandsworth of Texas Monthly and Bob Francis of Fort Worth Business News.
It was fun. There was a moderator, but Skip, a talkative and gregarious soul, did the actual moderating and kept things moving--blessings on him. The students were focused and responsive, anxious to talk about their varying goals. In the first session, most of them wrote daily--journaling, a couple of bloggers, etc. I was surprised that in the second session only one wrote with any frequency--a young woman who had a blog about what she and her children did. We tried to stress the importance of writing daily and of discipline. I thought maybe the second session was less sucessful than the first, but as I left a young woman who had been honest in revealing her uncertainty about what she wanted, thanked me and said, "You really inspired me." That made my day, and I told her so.
Home to lunch, some odd work at my desk, a bit of reading, and that long nap the day deserved. Woke up so loggy that I haven't been much good all evening, but I did make the last spread for tomorrow's fundraiser.
Tomorrow is supposed to be sunny and pretty--perfect day for the thirty to forty people at the fundraiser, though I haven't cleaned the porch. I'll consider that in the morning. But today is muddy and wet, and I have dirty dogs. And a very clean house. I've worked hard all day to make the two compatible. My old dog is content to lie on his bed most of the day, although he refuses food if it's raining--haven't quite figured that one out, except that maybe he considers the rain a personal affront and his way of protesting is to refuse to eat. The young one gets bored and wants to go out every so often. Then she doesn't like it, especially if she's alone, so she sits by the door (under the eaves fortunately) and looks pitiful. Cross your fingers please that I can avoid muddy footprints until tomorrow evening.
February 17, 2012
TCU's "big drug bust"
My thoughts about this tonight are in a scramble, but I feel compelled to put them in some kind of coherent order. Those of you in Fort Worth know all about it--or the media version. Long-story-short for others: in the early morning hours of February 15, Fort Worth police, working with TCU police, arrested 15-18 students and former students, some on campus and some not. Charges ranged from selling small quantities of marijuana to selling cocaine, fake ecstasy, and prescription drugs. A few undercover buys were made on campus; others in various parts of southwestern Fort Worth but there was always that connection to TCU. Not many out of a student body of what? 8,000. Still it means drugs on campus, which is against TCU policy and against the law.
Apparently TCU got complaints six months ago from students, faculty and parents about drug activity on campus. They alerted campus police, who called in city police, and an undercover campaign began. Unrelated, in January Coach Gary Patterson offered a football scholarship to a recruit and was turned down because of drug activity on the team. He ordered an immediate surprise drug test of the entire football team. First reports, from four football players mong those arrested, said as many as 80 failed; truth seems to be that five players tested positive, and a few others showed trace amounts within the margin of error. The name of those who tested positive have not been released so no one knows if the four arrested football players were among them or not.
There are so many facets to this. Many claim the punishment for dealing pot is out of proportion to the nature of the crime--and that may well be true. The analogy between alcohol and pot is a whole seperate subject. But marijuana is still illegal, and these students knew it, as did those who sold controlled substances. Yet some in the media and on social media have claimed that TCU blew the whole thing out of proportion by immediately calling a press conference and going public with it. Drug problems exist on a lot of campuses and presumably are often downplayed or ignored in the hope they'll go away. TCU chose a pro-active approach and, to use an awful old cliche, nipped the problem in the bud. I say cheers to them.
A long article in today's paper quotes a lawyer who wants the charges reduced so they don't ruin these young people's lives. Do we do that for other drug dealers? I think not. These "dumb young students set up by the cops," as one Facebook post said, knew exactly what they were doing and knew it was illegal. They got caught, and they need to pay the penalty. A slap on the wrist? Not likely to change anything.
There have been contradictory cries of "nothing will happen because they're rich and white" (there is a black boy charged and no one has any idea of the economic status of any of the charged students) to they'll be persecuted (not prosecuted, mind you) because they're TCU students and will be made an example. Probably the truth lies between. There has long been a sentiment in the Fort Worth community that TCU students, often because they are rich and go to a privileged school, think they are untouchable--my daughter, who grew up in that culture, said that to me yesterday. I can only attest to it from having driven on campus, in constant danger of having my small VW squashed by student-driven SUVs whose drivers think they own the road and the rules don't apply to them. Maybe that's the problem here--students didn't think the rules apply to them.
What will happen to these young people (two women included). A retired Canadian law enforcement officer suggested to me that they will be charged and probably given probation, but the offense will be on their record and follow them all their lives. Does that ruin their lives? Not necessarily. Many people have risen phoenix-like from much worse situtions and charges. Yes, it will forever affect their futures--no military service, etc.
Will they be repentant and try to make something of their lives, taking this as a warning sign? I'm not sure. One football "hero" shouted profanities at reporters as he left the jail after making bond--did himself no good and his school no credit. A few others--three I think--of those arrested have priors such as DUIs. Doesn't indicate lessons learned.
Bottom line for me: actions have consquences. I remember when my then-sixteen-year-old nephew locked himself out of his truck and had to walk sixteen miles back to the ranch. All the way he repeated "Actions have consequences." He learned the lesson, and I'm now trying to teach it to a five-year-old. But young men and woman from nineteen to twenty-one: they know. They took the risk, and now they should take the punishment. I wish each of them well. I hope they can rehabilitate their lives--and their educations, though they're pretty much out of TCU.
To the TCU administration: I join with others across the country who applaud the pro-active approach.
And a question: perhaps it wasn't TCU but the media who blew this out of proportion? That's hard for me, because I have friends in the media, and I know some disagree with me. But that's my take on it.
Apparently TCU got complaints six months ago from students, faculty and parents about drug activity on campus. They alerted campus police, who called in city police, and an undercover campaign began. Unrelated, in January Coach Gary Patterson offered a football scholarship to a recruit and was turned down because of drug activity on the team. He ordered an immediate surprise drug test of the entire football team. First reports, from four football players mong those arrested, said as many as 80 failed; truth seems to be that five players tested positive, and a few others showed trace amounts within the margin of error. The name of those who tested positive have not been released so no one knows if the four arrested football players were among them or not.
There are so many facets to this. Many claim the punishment for dealing pot is out of proportion to the nature of the crime--and that may well be true. The analogy between alcohol and pot is a whole seperate subject. But marijuana is still illegal, and these students knew it, as did those who sold controlled substances. Yet some in the media and on social media have claimed that TCU blew the whole thing out of proportion by immediately calling a press conference and going public with it. Drug problems exist on a lot of campuses and presumably are often downplayed or ignored in the hope they'll go away. TCU chose a pro-active approach and, to use an awful old cliche, nipped the problem in the bud. I say cheers to them.
A long article in today's paper quotes a lawyer who wants the charges reduced so they don't ruin these young people's lives. Do we do that for other drug dealers? I think not. These "dumb young students set up by the cops," as one Facebook post said, knew exactly what they were doing and knew it was illegal. They got caught, and they need to pay the penalty. A slap on the wrist? Not likely to change anything.
There have been contradictory cries of "nothing will happen because they're rich and white" (there is a black boy charged and no one has any idea of the economic status of any of the charged students) to they'll be persecuted (not prosecuted, mind you) because they're TCU students and will be made an example. Probably the truth lies between. There has long been a sentiment in the Fort Worth community that TCU students, often because they are rich and go to a privileged school, think they are untouchable--my daughter, who grew up in that culture, said that to me yesterday. I can only attest to it from having driven on campus, in constant danger of having my small VW squashed by student-driven SUVs whose drivers think they own the road and the rules don't apply to them. Maybe that's the problem here--students didn't think the rules apply to them.
What will happen to these young people (two women included). A retired Canadian law enforcement officer suggested to me that they will be charged and probably given probation, but the offense will be on their record and follow them all their lives. Does that ruin their lives? Not necessarily. Many people have risen phoenix-like from much worse situtions and charges. Yes, it will forever affect their futures--no military service, etc.
Will they be repentant and try to make something of their lives, taking this as a warning sign? I'm not sure. One football "hero" shouted profanities at reporters as he left the jail after making bond--did himself no good and his school no credit. A few others--three I think--of those arrested have priors such as DUIs. Doesn't indicate lessons learned.
Bottom line for me: actions have consquences. I remember when my then-sixteen-year-old nephew locked himself out of his truck and had to walk sixteen miles back to the ranch. All the way he repeated "Actions have consequences." He learned the lesson, and I'm now trying to teach it to a five-year-old. But young men and woman from nineteen to twenty-one: they know. They took the risk, and now they should take the punishment. I wish each of them well. I hope they can rehabilitate their lives--and their educations, though they're pretty much out of TCU.
To the TCU administration: I join with others across the country who applaud the pro-active approach.
And a question: perhaps it wasn't TCU but the media who blew this out of proportion? That's hard for me, because I have friends in the media, and I know some disagree with me. But that's my take on it.
February 16, 2012
At Loose Ends
Yesterday, I handed over my latest mystery to Fred, my beta reader/most honest critic/mentor (he doesn't like that last term) when we had lunch at Carshon's. Today I mailed my tax information to the accountant. Whew! Two big things off my desk, but I'm now "between projects"--you know how some people rationalize that they are "between jobs"? Not that I don't have work to do--it's just hard, even for compulsive me, to jump right from one biggie to the next. And with a couple of weekend events looming on my mind, I think I'll take a break.
I don't take a break gracefully. Yesterday I putzed--read, explored Pinterest on the web (something I'd avoided), almost got deperate enough to polish silver or something equally unlike me. I read a book, but it wasn't one I particularly enjoyed--tonight I'm going to stick with it. Sometimes they get better.
I've shopped and made lists for the event I'm hosting this weekend, so can't count on that to help, though tonight I did get out serving dishes, kind of eyeballing what would go in what. I often put notes in the dishes, but today I piled them on the sideboard so Socorro could polish the table when she comes to clean tomorrow. And I'm at the point of noticing little things that need to be straightened or put out of sight--the unhung picture leaning against the dining room wall, the dog medicine, an extra table leaf sticking out awkwardly from under my bed (needed to be moved anyway because I keep stubbing my toe on it). Jordan will come early Sunday and whiz through the house spotting a hundred other things and lighting candles everywhere. She's terrific at that. She's going to be my party angel and emailed today to ask if I had an outfit for her--if I'd thought ahead, I'd have had the black dress (short of course) with white cap and organdy ruffled apron. Darn!
Today, I went through my bulging file titled "Entries Not Tried" looking for something to serve company in a week and a half (now that's desperate), but the good I did was to be hard-hearted about looking at recipes and saying to myself, "That sounds good but I'll never cook it." Discarded about a third of the recipes. Also found about fifteen recipes that belonged in other folders in my appalling collection. I love to sort recipes when I'm planning to entertain--I pull out maybe ten choices, then go through those again and again, gradually narrowing it down. Tonight I have made my choice--not telling as it would ruin the surprise for the dinner guests. And besides, I've got a week and a half to change my mind. I almost always cook something I've never tried before for guests--part of the adventure. I once knew a woman who had her cook try out the entire menu twice before any dinner party. Not me--I just rush right in.
Yoga is not part of my puttering. I try to do it everyday, but today the only way I could work it in was to have an audience. I do my yoga in the room that Jacob considers his own, where he watches TV and sleeps. He didn't want to be budged; my explanations that yoga required silence and concentration fell on almost-deaf ears but finally he said he just wanted to lie on the bed, watch, and maybe fall asleep. He was pretty good--muted the TV and only talked to me three or four times. Once when I was doing a seated pose, with him supposedly on the bed behind me, I felt these gentle little arms around me. When I said, "Jacob, get back up on the bed," he said, "I was helping you, Juju." He wanted to try some poses after I finished, and of course at five he can stand on one foot a lot better than I can. "It's because I'm young," he said phlosophically.
I almost replied, "Well, I can entertain thirty people, and it's because I'm old and have had lots of experience." But I just hugged sweet boy.
I don't take a break gracefully. Yesterday I putzed--read, explored Pinterest on the web (something I'd avoided), almost got deperate enough to polish silver or something equally unlike me. I read a book, but it wasn't one I particularly enjoyed--tonight I'm going to stick with it. Sometimes they get better.
I've shopped and made lists for the event I'm hosting this weekend, so can't count on that to help, though tonight I did get out serving dishes, kind of eyeballing what would go in what. I often put notes in the dishes, but today I piled them on the sideboard so Socorro could polish the table when she comes to clean tomorrow. And I'm at the point of noticing little things that need to be straightened or put out of sight--the unhung picture leaning against the dining room wall, the dog medicine, an extra table leaf sticking out awkwardly from under my bed (needed to be moved anyway because I keep stubbing my toe on it). Jordan will come early Sunday and whiz through the house spotting a hundred other things and lighting candles everywhere. She's terrific at that. She's going to be my party angel and emailed today to ask if I had an outfit for her--if I'd thought ahead, I'd have had the black dress (short of course) with white cap and organdy ruffled apron. Darn!
Today, I went through my bulging file titled "Entries Not Tried" looking for something to serve company in a week and a half (now that's desperate), but the good I did was to be hard-hearted about looking at recipes and saying to myself, "That sounds good but I'll never cook it." Discarded about a third of the recipes. Also found about fifteen recipes that belonged in other folders in my appalling collection. I love to sort recipes when I'm planning to entertain--I pull out maybe ten choices, then go through those again and again, gradually narrowing it down. Tonight I have made my choice--not telling as it would ruin the surprise for the dinner guests. And besides, I've got a week and a half to change my mind. I almost always cook something I've never tried before for guests--part of the adventure. I once knew a woman who had her cook try out the entire menu twice before any dinner party. Not me--I just rush right in.
Yoga is not part of my puttering. I try to do it everyday, but today the only way I could work it in was to have an audience. I do my yoga in the room that Jacob considers his own, where he watches TV and sleeps. He didn't want to be budged; my explanations that yoga required silence and concentration fell on almost-deaf ears but finally he said he just wanted to lie on the bed, watch, and maybe fall asleep. He was pretty good--muted the TV and only talked to me three or four times. Once when I was doing a seated pose, with him supposedly on the bed behind me, I felt these gentle little arms around me. When I said, "Jacob, get back up on the bed," he said, "I was helping you, Juju." He wanted to try some poses after I finished, and of course at five he can stand on one foot a lot better than I can. "It's because I'm young," he said phlosophically.
I almost replied, "Well, I can entertain thirty people, and it's because I'm old and have had lots of experience." But I just hugged sweet boy.
February 15, 2012
How to Write a Novel--or Not
I've been reading a lot of raves lately for Scrivener Publishing Software--apparently it allows you to write a document in chunks, lay them out in any order, integrate in various ways, and get an overview whenever you want. You can keep track of chapters, scenes, page numbers, etc.Other writers have been using Excel for those same features for a long time. I'm bumfuzzled. By the time I figured all that out (I don't master new software easily), plotted out the scenes, etc., I suspect I could have written the novel twice. I am also puzzled by story boards, white boards, etc. where people keep track of each scene and character. Too much trouble.
It's probably the reason I'm a minor novelist at best, but I just sit down and write. Granted, I have a very rough outline--maybe a page of handwritten disconnected notes--before I begin. But then it's important to me to get a first sentence that gives me some momentum and propels me into the story. I may go back and rewrite that opening ten times, but it gets me going.
And then as new ideas occur to me--they appear all the time as I write--I think, "Hmmm, if this happens, I have to go back and change that." The find function in Word does that for me. When I get all through I read for plot inconsistencies--and find many--among other things. And off it goes to a beta reader, who will find more inconsistencies and problems.
I'm trying to be a storyteller, not to write belles lettres, let alone the Great American Novel. But I will always remember the examples of two Western storytellers I was privileged to know. One was Dorothy Johnson--if you're old enough, you may remember A Man Called Horse, The Hanging Tree, or "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance." Dorothy had a long career in New York and was there during WWII. After she returned to her native Montana, she worked on a novel, never published, called "The Unbombed," about New York's preparations for the enemy bombs that never hit the city. Once she wrote me that she'd just had a terrible shock: she'd just found out that the man she thought was going to be the hero of the novel was going to be killed in the war. Would that have happened with Scrivener or Excel? Somehow I think not.
And Elmer Kelton always preached to listen to your characters and they'll tell you what's going to happen. He started out to write a novel about a buffalo soldier--it became The Wolf and the Buffalo--and he incorporated a Comanche chief as a minor character. But the more he wrote, the more that Comanche demanded equal time, until the novel paralleled the disappearing lifestyle of the Comanche and the rising circumstances of the buffalo soldier, once a slave. In another instance, he sat at the bedside of his dying father and began to write about his father's young cowboying days, and, to paraphrase, as he wrote the characters took hold of the story like a horse takes the bit in its teeth and ran away with it. The words--and the tears--flowed. That became The Good Old Boys, adapted for TV by Tommy Lee Jones. Both are among the classic works of Kelton's large canon.
To me, that lesson about listening to your characters is about spontaneity in storytelling. It just doesn't happen if yoiu have all those moveable scenes and chapters and characters. A story flows--or it doesn't.
In a way I envy my fellow storytellers who can use these programs to plot--it must make the first draft a lot less painful. But they don't have the fun that I recently did of getting almost to the end of a novel still wondering how it was going to turn out, who is the villain, who the victim? And then--Eureka.
I think I'm old-fashioned.
It's probably the reason I'm a minor novelist at best, but I just sit down and write. Granted, I have a very rough outline--maybe a page of handwritten disconnected notes--before I begin. But then it's important to me to get a first sentence that gives me some momentum and propels me into the story. I may go back and rewrite that opening ten times, but it gets me going.
And then as new ideas occur to me--they appear all the time as I write--I think, "Hmmm, if this happens, I have to go back and change that." The find function in Word does that for me. When I get all through I read for plot inconsistencies--and find many--among other things. And off it goes to a beta reader, who will find more inconsistencies and problems.
I'm trying to be a storyteller, not to write belles lettres, let alone the Great American Novel. But I will always remember the examples of two Western storytellers I was privileged to know. One was Dorothy Johnson--if you're old enough, you may remember A Man Called Horse, The Hanging Tree, or "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance." Dorothy had a long career in New York and was there during WWII. After she returned to her native Montana, she worked on a novel, never published, called "The Unbombed," about New York's preparations for the enemy bombs that never hit the city. Once she wrote me that she'd just had a terrible shock: she'd just found out that the man she thought was going to be the hero of the novel was going to be killed in the war. Would that have happened with Scrivener or Excel? Somehow I think not.
And Elmer Kelton always preached to listen to your characters and they'll tell you what's going to happen. He started out to write a novel about a buffalo soldier--it became The Wolf and the Buffalo--and he incorporated a Comanche chief as a minor character. But the more he wrote, the more that Comanche demanded equal time, until the novel paralleled the disappearing lifestyle of the Comanche and the rising circumstances of the buffalo soldier, once a slave. In another instance, he sat at the bedside of his dying father and began to write about his father's young cowboying days, and, to paraphrase, as he wrote the characters took hold of the story like a horse takes the bit in its teeth and ran away with it. The words--and the tears--flowed. That became The Good Old Boys, adapted for TV by Tommy Lee Jones. Both are among the classic works of Kelton's large canon.
To me, that lesson about listening to your characters is about spontaneity in storytelling. It just doesn't happen if yoiu have all those moveable scenes and chapters and characters. A story flows--or it doesn't.
In a way I envy my fellow storytellers who can use these programs to plot--it must make the first draft a lot less painful. But they don't have the fun that I recently did of getting almost to the end of a novel still wondering how it was going to turn out, who is the villain, who the victim? And then--Eureka.
I think I'm old-fashioned.
February 14, 2012
Valentines Day? Too much chocolate.
I have gotten over-tired of chocolate on the Food Network in the last few days, and I'm the original chocaholic. But enough is enough. However, my neighbor Jay (you know, the good-looking one) brought over three heart-shaped double fudge buttermilk cakes--each a more than generous serving--with butter cream frosting. The man is trying to sabotage my diet! But it was delicious. At Jordan's request, since Christian was just returning home tonight from a business trip, I fixed salmon (Christian doesn't eat it) with green goddess dressing--oh so good! Had that cauliflower/vinaigrette dish and a green salad. Jacob would have none of it, of course.
Made a lunch reservation last week with a popular bistro that has just started serving lunch. Their sign says 11 a.m., Tues. through Fri. So I left a message making a reservation, along with my phone number. It was a good friend's b'day and we wanted to be festive. Got there and the place was locked, not a soul in sight. Too late to try a couple of other celebratory spots, so we went to King Tut--and I ate too much!
It's been a food day. Made another batch of lemon-basil cookies, but cut back on the lemon and added more basil--these did look kind of green before they baked. Also made a Bundt cake, scrubbed the grill, and fixed that dinner. No yoga but I probably got my exercise in--and my back hurts a bit tonight.
Darn--can't find the Westminster Dog Show tonight--I thought it went on all week. Guess not.
Made a lunch reservation last week with a popular bistro that has just started serving lunch. Their sign says 11 a.m., Tues. through Fri. So I left a message making a reservation, along with my phone number. It was a good friend's b'day and we wanted to be festive. Got there and the place was locked, not a soul in sight. Too late to try a couple of other celebratory spots, so we went to King Tut--and I ate too much!
It's been a food day. Made another batch of lemon-basil cookies, but cut back on the lemon and added more basil--these did look kind of green before they baked. Also made a Bundt cake, scrubbed the grill, and fixed that dinner. No yoga but I probably got my exercise in--and my back hurts a bit tonight.
Darn--can't find the Westminster Dog Show tonight--I thought it went on all week. Guess not.
February 13, 2012
Taxes and dog shows
Some things are good, some are not so good. On the not-so-good side, it's tax time. I have spent more time than I wish for about a week trying to gather information for the accountant. Every year, I think I'm being so organized--but what I really do is dump things into a folder that says "Taxes." Then of course by the time I hold this piece of paper or that in my hand, I wonder what it's about. For instance, I found an the stub for an honorarium payment that I can't identify--why don't institutions put their name on their check stubs? And every year my accountant's questionnaire changes. In truth, I think it's my interpretation of it that changes. I found a whole new section tonight. I forget what is deductible and what isn't, though I've finally learned political contributions are not. So what's that presidential fund on the questionnaire? And when you gather all the figures together, it's appalling how much you spend on some things--like utilities! I finally get to a point that I just give up and send it to him--but at least I've made a start. My accountant is a patient and gentle man.
The good tonight is the Westminster Kennel Club Show--love watching it. Of course, my Scooby is better looking than the Aussie in the show. And when are they going to start a show for all the "doodle" dogs like Sophie. I do like hearing the history of the breeds--and loved just seeing a bearded collie. We had them once, but believe me ours were never groomed to the fare-thee-well that this dog was.
Did some baking tonight--lemon/basil cookies and chocolate mini-muffins.I'm preparing for a Sunday afternoon fund-raiser for good friend Lon Burnam, for his re-election to the Texas legislature, and I'm a little awed by the prospect. People will pay to come to this party--will my food make it worthwhile? I give a lot of parties, but people don't usually pay--hmm, maybe I should rethink that. I'll save the menu discussion until after th event. I was sort of proud of the lemon-basil cookies but after I got started on the recipe I was startled to realize it only makes sixteen cookies. I made them smaller and got twenty-six but I'll have to do it again. Nervous about making a totally unfamiliar recipe, I rebuffed Jacob's offer to help--which sent him into tears. He eventually settled for getting to "squish" the round balls of dough--recipe said to use bottom of a cup, but he liked his palm better. Yes, I made sure he washed thoroughly first.
The good tonight is the Westminster Kennel Club Show--love watching it. Of course, my Scooby is better looking than the Aussie in the show. And when are they going to start a show for all the "doodle" dogs like Sophie. I do like hearing the history of the breeds--and loved just seeing a bearded collie. We had them once, but believe me ours were never groomed to the fare-thee-well that this dog was.
Did some baking tonight--lemon/basil cookies and chocolate mini-muffins.I'm preparing for a Sunday afternoon fund-raiser for good friend Lon Burnam, for his re-election to the Texas legislature, and I'm a little awed by the prospect. People will pay to come to this party--will my food make it worthwhile? I give a lot of parties, but people don't usually pay--hmm, maybe I should rethink that. I'll save the menu discussion until after th event. I was sort of proud of the lemon-basil cookies but after I got started on the recipe I was startled to realize it only makes sixteen cookies. I made them smaller and got twenty-six but I'll have to do it again. Nervous about making a totally unfamiliar recipe, I rebuffed Jacob's offer to help--which sent him into tears. He eventually settled for getting to "squish" the round balls of dough--recipe said to use bottom of a cup, but he liked his palm better. Yes, I made sure he washed thoroughly first.
