Judy Alter's Blog, page 329

On (not) living alone, or my (not) lonely life

In the days after my ex-husband's death, I heard from many old friends, some of whom I'd lost contact with over the years, several of whom I am still close to. Without exception, they remembered our house as a party house with good times for all. One wrote that it was a "beacon of hospitality" and recalled Joel cooking, while I ran around barefoot (and ruined my feet). Another said she as always so pleased to be invited because she knew it would be an exhilarating evening. It was a rare evening that there wasn't at least one extra for supper. I remember one man who batched it for a year before his wife decided to move to Texas and join him--he sat in the dining room and moaned that the only responsibility he'd had for months was to show up at our house on time for dinner, and he wasn't sure he couldn't handle more. A single pediatrician drove in the driveway so often that one night the teenage daughter of friends who lived with  us (another long story) fumed, "Why does he always come when we're having salmon croquettes."
The partying didn't stop when Joel left--but it changed and wasn't as frequent or as frenetic. Some friends drifted away, but many remained, and new people joined their ranks. I remember one friend at a party saying she didn't know anyone and then telling herself, "Of course, Judy has made new friends."
I was busy, working during the day, taking kids to this lesson and that and scout meetings in the evening and often not putting the car in the garage until nine-thirty or so. And then suddenly (so it seemed) I had four teenagers, and the house was full of young people coming and going. Plus there was family and a few who were extended family. It wasn't unusual to have fifteen or twenty at the Sunday dinner table.
As my chickens began to leave the nest, many friends worried how I, used to such a crowd around me, would survive living alone. The answer is "Very well, thank you." Oh sure, there were nights I stared at the TV but I was never pitifully lonely. And now the tide has turned. I love my life but sometimes I want long stretches of aloneness. This afternoon, from 12:30 until 5:00 I had no obligations--got a lot of work done and had a nap.
I have Jacob a lot;I have lunch dates, errands to run, an occasional meeting, classes to teach; I'm giving a fundraiser for one of my favorite local politicins, and I invite people to dinner frequently because I enjoy entertaining and cooking. I wouldn't give up any of this, but I do long for stretches of time when I can get something done. How will I write those next two books, for which I'm obligated?
Lonely? Not at all. Sometimes I think it's a sign of growing up, but these days I always have things waiting to be done, never succumb to "what shall I do tonight?" or watching TV out of boredom. There's too much to be done, and I love all of it.
So tomorrow morning I'll throw together a vegetable soup in the crockpot, go to church, bring Jacob home and fix lunch for two dear friends. Then tomorrow night I'll fix scallop cakes with lime/cilantro mayonnaise for Jordan. Think I'll get a handle on the Great American Novel? Not likely. I'll be lucky to keep up with email, Facebook, and my nap.

Sometimes life gets ahead of you

By 11:30 this morning, I had tired myself out. Been to the office to wrap a package for mailing, to the grocery, the post office, and the printing store to pick up a manuscript, to the audiologist to get new ear molds (honest, when they called I thought they said ear mites and I wanted to say, "No, thanks!"), and to Old Home Supply to drop off five more copie sof Skeleton in a Dead Space. I think that marvelous hardware store, which specializes in fixtures for old houses, is my best retail outlet! They keep sending me messages: "We need more books!" It is of course in the heart of the Fairmount neighborhood, setting of my novels. By 11:30, I was at the Old Neighborhood Grill (frequently mentioned in the book) for lunch with an old friend and her daughter. It's still a bit of a shock to realize that this child is forty-five-I knew her parents before she was born, for Pete's sake. Georgia, the one I've know almost fifty years, bought two more books--so of the ten I received yesterday, only three are left on my bookshelf. Woohoo!
I snuck a nap between lunch and picking up Jacob and slept so soundly that I haven't been much good the rest of the day. I woke suddenly, misread the clock and thought I was late to pick up Jacob--turns out I was early. But I spent much of the rest of the day feeling sleepy and ready to go back to bed. Jacob went to the neighbor's to play and then went out back to play with the dogs--only came in when it dawned on him it was darn cold (he's slow to realize such things). We had supper and Sue, my former neighbor who calls me her Fort Worth mom, came for a drink and catch-up session. We both have a lot going on in our lives, and I was super glad for the exchange--plus we agree about politics and social issues. Good discussion.
Made real headway on tax stuff tonight but am far from done. How I hate doing that!
Cold tonight--in the twenties. No wonder I feel like hibernating.

What in the world is going on?

Two headline events loom large in my mind tonight. The first is a picture on the front page of this morning's Fort Worth Star-Telegram, a huge picture, above the fold, crowding out side stories. It shows Rick Santorum praying with about a hundred pastors in a town north of the Metroplex and, yes, they're laying on hands. Santorum claims he doesn't want to be the "pastor of the United States" and yet that seems to be the office he's running for. Is he one bit familiar with the Consitution? You know, that pesky business about separation of church and state? Put aside the fact that I disagree with him on every social issue, from abortion to gay marriage, and that I shudder to think of him as an international representative of this country--well, I disagree with his policies there too. But I can't believe Americans would ever think of electing a man who runs on an openly religious--and bigoted--platform. It scares the you know what out of me. The only laughable thing to come out of his North Texas visit was that someone gave him a cowboy hat--doubt it was a real Stetson--and local columnist and raconteur Bud Kennedy quipped that it probably had the worst crease of any cowboy hat ever. But that badly creased hat won't save us.
The other thing that bothers me is the new book telling all about a woman's affair with JFK when she was a nineteen-year-old, virginal intern at the White House. I am horrified by Kennedy (who is one of my heroes). As the resident medical authority on the TODAY Show said today, he was the president of the United States, forty-five years old, and he took her into a bedroom; she was nineteen, inexperienced, and not in a position to resist power. It was rape. There go the clay feet of one of my heroes, even though we already knew he was an outrageous womanizer.  This was extreme, making you want to say, "Pick on somone one your own size."
But I am bothered about all the hoorah being made over this woman and her book. Sure, she was outed in 2002 or thereabouts and it caused her great pain in her life. I've heard there have been more "outings" but I don't remember ever hearing about it. If she hadn't written this book, which is getting a ton of play in all media, it might have remained a quietly forgotten episode. Now it's a "big thing." How does the author feel about Caroline Kennedy hearing about this?  How does she feel about her own place in history--pretty shabby. Sure, she wanted to tell her side of the story--don't we all after affairs gone awry? But maybe she could have kept a diary. Or, hey, I know a memoir class where she could have told all and it wouldn't have gone beyond the room. Sorry, folks, but I see it as a publicity grab.
The good things out of the day: went to Half Price Books and got $29 for six grocery bags of books. Sorry but I expected more. So Jeannie and I went to Winslow's Wine Cafe and had a good lunch--I spent most of my $29. Easy come, easy go. The good thing? My book shelves are relatively neat.
And tonight was my memoir class--a powerful one in which women shared some heavy stuff. I was both grateful and inspired. Linda came for supper beforehand, as she usually does, and I fixed what I thought was a classic light supper: tomato basil soup, tuna salad, cherry tomatoes, and hearts of palm. Notice the funny color of some of the tomatoes--I didn't like those as well. But notice the new stoneware I bought at a garage sale double bargain.

Gone to the dogs

Today was dog day at my house. About nine, I took Sophie to the grooming parlor, Glamour Paws. Asked for a shampoo, trim around the eys and bottom, nails cut, and agreed to tooth brushing for another $10. I sure can't brush her teeth!
Next Scooby went to the vet. His bark has gotten hoarse lately and he has a bit of a cough, plus he isn't eating well and I was sure he had lost weight. Wrong--he gained ten lbs. in the last year!The vet talked about all the possibilities behind the hoarseness but I choose to think it's kennel cough--and so does she. So Scooby is getting antibiotics and cough medicine. Physical examination showed him to be in very good condition for his eleven years--no apparent structural problems causing the occasional collapse of his back legs and he was nimble getting in and out of the car--no small trick for a good-sized dog in the back seat of a VW bug. The vet said the leg problem could be neurological--another thing, I'd prefer not to think about. She called this evening with results of blood work--outstanding for his age. Neither diabetes nor hypothyroidism can be blamed for his weight gain (I  know just how he feels!)  So I have a geraitric Australian shepherd with a cough, a hoarse bark and a tendency for his back legs to give out.
Sophie is another story. They called to report there would be an extra $20 charge because she was matted--I could have told them that. But when I went to pick her up, I nearly laughed. I took one dog and got back another. Here are before and after pictures:

They trimmed her face like a poodle! Okay, I know she's part poodle, but I like the au naturel--just wanted the hair right around her eyes trimmed back. And she's so fluffy and huge--we always joked that the before Sophie was mostly hair and probably really skinny soaking wet. Now's she's twice the size and so fluffy, her coat, once coarse, is soft beyond belief. It won't stay that way. I learned one thing: we can attribute her smelly coat to the trrait that's supposed to make her desirable. If she doesn't shed, she smells. Apparently the day at the beauty parlor exhuasted her. She's tapped out at my feet.
When Jordan came by, she showed me pictures from the weekend memorial service for her father. He lived on beautiful land, and though many of the pictures showed a world so different from my world,  it made him happy and for that I'm glad. All of my children felt the weekend was a moving experience and were so glad they went, especially because they went together. And they were glad to see their Califiornia sister again. I think they came home enriched and probably a bit changed.

Where is Chaper Fourteen?

Yesterday, after the family left about noon, I hit the computer and was pretty much there until 9:30, with time out for a short nap, feeding the dogs, and a quick supper--which I ate at the computer. I was doing a final run through the work-in-progress and sailed along through chapters four through thirteen. Then, about 9:30 I hit chapter fourteen. As it should, it started on a new page, with "Chapter Fourten" properly dropped down and centered.
And then it was one pagraph, and there, centered in the next block of text was "Chapter Fifteen." I searched frantically--the files on the computer, backup files on jump drives. Chapter fourteen just flat doesn't exist, and I am left wondering if it ever did and trying to reconstruct what should be in it. And in Chapter Fifteen, everything is gallywumpas--passages out of order, repetitions. Whatever I did, I must have done it over time, because you simply couldn't do that much damage at one sitting.
Today was one of those days, and I really didn't get back to revisions until suppertime, so I haven't made a lot of progress. I'm sure I can put all the pieces together again, unlike Humpty Dumpty, but it sure will need at least one and probably two more readings.
One thing that tickles me--I have a tendency to take some passages from the reality of my life. The heroine in this one takes her niece and nephew to look at a dog at the humane society. The niece has been studying available dogs online and found a Labradoodle she really wants--that, of course, reflects my interest in those "doodle" breeds. They ask if they can see the dog on a leash, outside the cage.  But when the attendant goes to put the leash on the dog, he begins to jump all over her in enthusiasm, and Kate, the heroine, has second thoughts about his rambunctiousness. The attendant says over her shoulder, "I"m telling him he's not making a good impression." That really happened eight years ago when I got my Aussie, Scooby. He was three and a half and full of it. He's turned out to be a good dog, so loving, but he never did calm down till he was about ten. Now eleven and a half, his age is showing and he's docile. So I have the wild Indian Bordoodle puppy to deal with.
There's another incident that comes from reality, but I realize telling it would be a spoiler, so I can't share that one--only after you've read it.
Meantime, wish me luck. I think reconstructing a novel is harder than writing it in the first place.

A leftover day

That's the kind of day it was--leftover from rodeo, stock show, Joe T.'s, leftovers for supper, leftover work--plenty of the latter.
Nobody got moving quickly at this house. It was 9:30 before the gang from the apartment came in; meantime Sawyer and Ford asked every ten minutes when Jacob would come inside. I explained he sleeps later than they do--they're really early birds. I puttered and was ready for the day when everybody came in and Christian joined us. Big, lazy, late breakfast of eggs and bacon and, for some kids, chocolate chip waffles. By noon, they were all gone, kitchen was cleaned, house was picked up and I was at my desk.
Had lunch (?) about three--cottage cheese--a nap about four but couldn't sleep, so got up and took a much-needed shower and fed the dogs. Dinner was leftovers--two dabs of potato salad, one dab of egg salad, baked beans (cold), and, for some reason, hummus--an odd combination but good. For any out there who may be expecting Potluck with Judy on Sunday nights, I have decided that trying to post that every Wednesday and Sunday is too rigid. I don't always have a good food topic to write about, and sometimes there are other things to blog. I will post it sporadically, although I just now thought of a topic. I will always welcome contributions, so email me at j.alter@tcu.edu.
I have not heard much from my children in California except a bit second-hand from Brandon, Mel, and Christian when they talked to their spouses. The weekend went well and my kids had a good time, partied hard which they father would have applauded, had fun with their Califiornia sister. Today they spread their father's ashes on his land, as he requested, and Megan sent a picture of herself flinging some in the air. I know that was a significant occasion for them. Anxious to get fuller reports.
And a word about my "other adopted children," Lisa (who couldn't join us but wanted to), Brandon, Melanie, and Christian. I know they came for the stock show, but I feel incredibly blessed that with their spouses (my kids) out of town, they want to spend the weekend with me. It'a a  real tribute to the kind of people they are. And yes, as I lost my stamina (and therefore my balance) at the stock show, they took incredibly good care of me. I am blessed.
As a farewell to the annual stock show, here's Jacob with his dad and the cow he, his dad, and his mom created for his school project. I thought it was pretty cool. You can't tell from the picture, but it's three-dimensional. Kindergarten gets so complicated these days! Jacob is wearing the cowboy shirt that my good friend, his Aunt Betty, gave him. Christian has convinced me he wouldn't wear a cowboy hat if we got it.

The Alter family stock show day

The Alter family stock show day was a long day. There's  no other way to put it. It's become a tradition that we all tour the stock show grounds the day after the children and their families go to the rodeo--I have long since given it up, though I used to love it. This year, of course, we were missing my four children who are in Califoirnia for a memorial for their father. But the rest of us, mostly, remained undaunted. Colin's wife has a bronchial infection and didn't want to make the drive from Houtson with two kids. But Brandon and his boys came last night, and Mel and the girls arrived today after getting stuck in horrible traffic and spending two and a half hours in the car between Frisco and Fort Worth.
But about 1:30 we headed for the stock show--and we didn't get home until 5:15. That, my friends, is a long day on your feet. This being the last weekend of the show, our visit to the livesetock barns was fruitless--they were empty. We did tour the barn where the winning cattle were--hot, smelly, close atmosphere but interesting, and the kids loved the baby cattle. Then we headed for the midway. I have to be honest: the midway holds nothing but negative appeal for me except for watching my grandchildren have fun. I get tired, grouchy, and, today, cold as the sun faded and the wind picked up. It did have its high moments--Edie won two stuffed fish, and Jacob won a live goldfish; Maddie, Brandon and the Hudgeons boys rode the Ferris wheel, and Maddie and her mom rode The Big Kuhauna. Edie, it turns out, is her grandmother's child and doesn't like rides, though she did some fun and horror house things. Jacob loved some rides, didn't like the others so much. On one, called the Avalanche, people sit in a row and the whole backdrop rotates up and back--looked harmless, but Christian said it had a free fall sort of feeling and Jacob didn't like it at all. There were several most of the adults agreed we would never  try.

My reaction? Too much midway, not enough animals--we missed the FFA exhibit with the baby chicks and ducks and by the time we got back to it we were too tired. We missed the exhibits with western furniture, clothing, jewely, and TV kind of food and cooking products. All the parts I love best. Next year I'll rethink this. And next year: note to self, wear walking shoes, not tennis shoes.
We relaxed over dinner at Joe T. Garcia's, but even then three little boys, ages seven and five, can get into enormous mischief and trouble. So now we're all home. Mel, bless her, has taken all the kids out to the apartment, Christian didn't go to dinner with us--another party, which is a long story--but he came by and we re-hashed the day.
My house is quiet--hmm. That makes me a bit nervous. Guess I'll go investigate, but we are done, tired, sleepy, all those things.

Rodeo day

Today was a holiday, at least for me. Jacob had no school and was in a day-care play program all day. That meant I could do "stuff" in the morning--a haircut, a quick run through Central Market, and a stay at a mechanic's while I got a new headlight bulb. VW never makes such things easy, and it took almost an hour, but I'm legal again. This afternoon I could work at my desk cleaning up odds and ends--I keep thinking I'll do that and leap into editing the next book, but somehow more odds and ends appear. Took a late nap and flew out of bed to fix supper for two sons-in-law and three screaming young boys all of whom arrived at once. The excitement of being together got to the boys--two five-year-olds and a seven-year old, all of whom like to launch into long (and boring) stories. If we said it once, we said it a thousand times: "Don't rock in your chair," "Use indoor voices," "Eat your supper," etc. I am so thankful they've gone off to the rodeo and the house is peaceful and quiet. I'm going to start any minute on that manuscript. For the time being I've run out of odds and ends.
In fact, that's all there is to this blog. I"m off to work.

Book clubs and the way they see your characters

I spoke to a book group last night, eight ladies, about Skeleton in a Dead Space, the first Kelly O'Connell Mystery. The subject of Kelly's character kept coming up. Most of the ladies liked her a lot. The hostess, my friend who had invited me (Joyce is on the far right in the picture above), found her a bit rash, though she didn't use that term in any derogatory way. But the discussion set me to thinking about how different people perceive a character in contrast to how the author (creator) perceives him or her. A recent review had good things to say about the book but found Kelly remote, snobbish, self-absorbed. Since I incorporated so much of myself into Kelly's character that came as a shock. So did rash, which I would never apply to cautious me. Others in book groups have thought Kelly placed her children in danger by bringing Teresa into her house (this only makes sense if you've read it). In one group, when I was trying to define a "cozy" by saying sex and violence take place off-stage, a woman said "Oh, that's why she never goes to bed with Mike." I had to bite my tongue to keep from revealing secrets of the second book.
My oldest daughter told her mother-in-law that Skeleton is a "highly autobiographical" novel, and of course in many ways it is. The single parenting, the conflicted feelings about an ex, the love of old houses, all come from me. I am puzzled that I, loving to cook, created a heroine who isn't a cook and takes her kids out to eat or orders pizza--but Kelly gets better at meals in subsequent novels. And no, my ex wasn't murdered--he died last week of natural causes--and he was never as slimy as Tim in the book. Nor have I ever been in a physical fight, which Kelly is in the book. So there's some me, some not. And, sigh, there was a Mike Shandy in my life but only briefly. I should be so lucky!
In another sense, I like to think that Kelly is the kind of person I am. One reason I blog and blather about family and Jacob and daily life is to give readers and potential readers a sense of who I am,
what kind of heroine they can expect. So when she comes out rash, snobbish, self-absorbed, I'm befuzzled.
Last night I said to the group, "Oh, but she helps Mrs. Glenn...." and then I realized that's the second book. Kelly and her world are so famliar to me now that I forget there are two books others haven't read.
But I hope Kelly grows and changes in the subsequent books (two are written, and No Neighborhood for Old Women launches as an ebook the week of April 8, probably appears in print a month later). You'll have to tell me. Meantime, most of last night's wonderful women liked Kelly, didnt' think she was rash, selfish, a poor parent, any of those things. And I think I made some more friends for Kelly.
Speaking to small book clubs has been one of the most rewarding experiences about publication of Skeleton. Women in these groups (I've yet to speak to one with a man in it) are open and honest in their reaction. Yes, they criticize but mostly they're very enthusiastic about the book--and I think they've helped me make Kelly's character grow.
About men as readers: I've wondered if the Kelly books are chick lit, wondered if men would read them. Several have and have told me good things, plus several women told me their husbands enjoyed the book. And last night, Joyce, the hostess, said her husband and son were both looking forward to reading it. I asked if she thought it was chick lit, and she said not at all, it had a lot of elements that both men are interested in. So another worry down.
A bonus today: I took out an ad, yet to appear, in the newsletter of a neighborhood that borders Fairmount, the setting of the Kelly mysteries. The woman I dealt with wrote today, apologizing for not getting in touch sooner. She was absorbed in getting the newsletter out and now she's reading a mystery that she can't put down and so can't be bothered with email, etc.--it was Skeleton. What a nice compliment.

Reading galleys and switching gears

Yesterday I determined to devote myself to finishing the galleys I started reading over the rather tumultous weekend. I cleared the desk of everything else, after doing homework with Jacob. He spent the rest of the afternoon like a lamb watching TV. So after I fed us--salads for me and a hot dog for him--I settled down to work, thinking he'd stay in front of the TV till his father came. No such luck.
He came cheerily into the office, told me to close what I was doing and go to ninjago.com (I checked later and it is a real site) because they were going to send him a package. As an afterthought, he added that they would be sending me diamond earrings with ninjas hanging from them--just my style! I explained I had to finish what I was doing. "Well, when you're finished." I explained he'd be home asleep when I finished, and he asked, "And you won't be asleep?" He chattered and chattered, and when I gently asked if he didn't want to go to the playroom and watch TV, he said, "No, I want  you to have company." Thank you, sweet Jacob. We compromised. He watched the Disney channel in my office, and I tuned it out.
Finished reading the galleys, compiled my corrections, and sent them off. About noon they came back. I had understood that the editor would correct in Word and the executive editor would create a new pdf. Besides, I couldn't tell page numbers on the pdf. I framed my corrections so that using the find button would be easy--I thought. No, they need corrections by page and line. I whined, I blamed, I behaved badly (okay, it's been a bad week or last week was bad ending with my family's weekend trauma.) I called Melinda at TCU Press to ask how to tell page numbers (after embarrasing myself with my editors) and before I even got the question out I saw the page numbers across the top. Worked out a system to translate the corrections I'd found so I didn't have to read the whole galley over--was actually pretty proud of myself about that. I'd use Word to search for context, and then find the passage in the pdf. By now I know the manuscript by heart. After a solid afternoon of work, with time out for Jacob and the dogs and a visit with Jacob's mother, I finished and have sent the new version off with great relief.
Now to start over with the manuscript I was revising before all this happened. I had gone through five chapters, but I've lost the thread. It is not part of the Kelly O'Connell series but a possible first entry in a new series--or a stand-alone. So I have to leave one fictional world and immerse myself in another. Not sure I'll tackle that tonight. Tomorrow looked like a long empty day where I could do that--until I speak to a book group in the evening--but a call from the audiology office reminded me of a nine o'clock appointment. Life gets in the way a lot. Thursday will be grocery shopping and Friday, haircut and a quick stop at Central Market to prepare for the arrival of part of my family this weekend. Trouble is I don't know which part and how many and what to buy. Yikes!
A note on yoga: I've been back at it, almost daily, since the first of the year and was pleased this morning at how much stronger I am. That means my muscles don't quiver as much during some poses, like down dog or warrior, and instead of ten, I did fifteen mini-push-ups today. My puzzlement: does a yoga workout do you as much good if you have to stop and answer the phone three times?
Off to dinner with neighbors at the Neighborhood Grill--it's meatloaf night. Hurray!