Judy Alter's Blog, page 330

Fort Worth' s iconic Mexican restaurant

There's nothing like overeating at Joe T. Garcia's to start a Sunday with a smile. Jordan, Christian, and David (Jordan's longtime good friend and first high school boyfriend) and I had brunch there. Christian ordered migas, but we had "the dinner"--cheese nachos (huge), cheese enchiladas, guac, rice, beans, and two small tacos. I didn't eat the rice and gave the tacos to Christian--color me righteous. Almost fifty years ago my first introduction to Tex-Mex was at Joe T.'s. After all, I grew up in Chicago and never ate Mexican food at all. My ex and I went to professional meetings there, and I slowly learned to eat cheese enchiladas, tacos, and guacamole. To this day I scrape the chilies off the cheese nachos. But the thing I love best is the beans. Rumor is that at Joe T.'s the beans are "boracchio," made with beer. I know they're also made with lard and are as bad for you as chopped liver, but I do like them.
Joe T.'s has a fascinating history. It began as a grocery store where the original Joe T.'s wife also fixed enchiladas and tamales for workers at nearby sites on the North Side. Gradually it grew and grew as various generations of the Garcia and Lancarte families took over the business. Today it encompasses almost a city block, with outdoor seating in gardens that in spring and summer are lush and beautiful. The restaurant draws celebrities and every other rehearsal dinner in Fort Worth. On a warm spring night, the wait is incredible but well worth it. But if you live in Fort Worth, you know all that.
It made a pleasant start to the day. I slept late--actually I woke up and wondered why it was so light. One look at the clock told me. I read emails, Facebook and the paper, fed the dogs, made the bed, and it was lunch time. Home to work on those galleys.
Joel is less on my mind today, though emails from my sister-in-law have upset me and new details keep springing up. But I'm trying to put it behind me. I am sorry that my four kids will to go to California next weekend for some kind of memorial service, but I'll have an "in-law" weekend. Their spouses and children plan to come for rodeo and stock show.
I have come to one conclusion--and after this the subject is dropped from this blog. My parents may have shaped the kind of person I am, but Joel set the course for my life: without him, I would not be in Texas, and I would not have my children. And if he hadn't left, I wouldn't have had the good career I've had. My life is good, so a tip of the hat to hime for all that.
Now I'm moving on.

Working through it

I'm still trying to process the death of my ex, Joel. That's him above, I think after a marathon. Although in a wheelchair for a decade or more, he was once a dedicated runner. I've gotten an outpouring of love and understanding today from friends old and new. They all seem to understand that it's not nearly as simple as saying, "Oh, well, I haven't been married to him for thirty years, so it doesn't matter to me." It does matter, probably made more of an impact on me than on our children. I've heard so much today about good Joel/bad Joel that my head is spinning. For years, I've wondered how to explain to people why I married him, but a friend summed it up so well today when she wrote, "In the old days he had a charisma that was charming and an enthusiasm for life that was infectious." There you have it--that's why I married him, and that's the man I grieve for. I remember too a few years ago when a friend from early on and I stood on my front porch talking about Joel. With us was her son, named Joel, then about thirty. Finally he exploded, "Wait a minute! If he's such a bad guy, why am I named after him?" His mother looked at him and said simply, "Because we all loved him back then." Funny and complicated stuff.
It looks like the service will be this weekend in Santa Rosa on their farm--Joel told me it is the former Jack London homestead. Not sure about that, but it makes a good story. My four children will go together, along I think, with Joel's brother, the Uncle Mark to whom they are all close. They will not take spouses or children. But there goes our rodeo/stock show weekend, which I had been looking forward to. A petty thought at this point.
Meantime life goes on. I was slow getting going this morning--slept late and overwhelmed by emails--but finally did the cleaners, post office, Williams Sonoma (fruitless trip), Origins (expensive trip) and Central Market. Came home and finished laundry, cryovaced the meat I bought (my doctor told me to eat more read meat while a friend told me her doctor said not to eat red meat--go figure!), and fixed some curry/chutney/chicken salad for my supper. It ws okay but probably not a recipe I'll keep or repeat.
I am reading galleys on my second Kelly O'Connell mystery, No Neighborhood for Old Women, but because of distractions I'm moving slowly. The editor would like to have them back early in the week but that's looking less and less likely. I'm plugging away though.
Can't say enough about my wonderful children--the solidarity they've shown through this, the support for me (they seem less emotional than I am), their willingness to pay their respects to a father who was distant from them. Regardless of all else, I have a wonderful family and am so blessed.
And say what I might about Joel--he brought a lot of pain and grief into my life but earlier he brought great joy and love and laughter. That's what I choose to remember.

Numb and puzzling grief

This is hard to write, because I'm not sure how I feel. Joel, my ex-husband, died unexpectedly today. He'd been in a wheelchair for years and was not in good health, but there had been no decline lately. My chldren would have told me. For years I've known that I'd outlive him and wondered how I'd feel when he died. We've been divorced thirty years, and the last two years we were together he was pretty cruel to me in emotional terms. But I find all that vanished from my mind. I have cried, not wrenching huge sobs but tears that keep creeping down my cheeks. I am grieving for all that he missed in life--our children, our grandchildren, and the wonderful family life we have--and for a man that I once loved a lot and had a wonderful time with. Now grown, my chldren have not been close to their father, though they have great childhood memories of him. He was a terrific father to young children and brought a lot of fun into their lives. So the ones I've talked to are like me--sad but puzzled about how to feel. They will go to whatever kind of service is held in California, but they have agreed to go as a foursome, without families.
Joel and I have not been close for many years, not one of those divorces where you keep in touch. When Jordan married, the minister asked delicately how mom and dad get along, and Jordan said, "They're cordial." That's about it. We saw each other at weddings. When our oldest married in 2000, the whole wedding party was on a catamarand cruise off Grand Cayman, and somehow Joel and I sat by ourselves and talked for an hour, talking about the past and people we knew. I said I was often tempted to email him with news of those people, especially deaths, and he said he wished I would. But it never happened. The last time I saw him or had any contact was 2004 when our youngest married and he raised a nice toast to me for the way I'd raised our children (it made me feel a bit like the nanny). Yes, it was cordial, but there was nothing to bind us together anymore. He had chosen a lifestyle that was foreign to me, and my career has blossomed in directions it never took while we were married. For him, there was a second wife and another child, a girl of whom I've always been fond; for me, one man that mattered and some that didn't, and now a wonderful personal and professional life. I can't and won't play the grieving widow. And yet I'm puzzled.
I have this strong feeling that there should be a Fort Worth obituary--even today people ask me how Joel is, and I always say that my kids haven't told me there was any change. And there are people I feel should know. I have notified some personal friends, but the rest is up to Joel's wife and, perhaps my children. I have to remember my place (or non-place) in this.
And yet I grieve and shed tears.

Memoir class

My memoir class met tonight for the first meeting of the spring session. We had four returning members and four new ones, a most interesting mix. Each returnee introduced herself and told a bit about why she keeps coming back, what she's learned, how she's been encouraged by the group. Some of the things surprised me, in a good way, and it was rewarding to hear that they feel they've grown and become more comfortable with their writing. One member writes so well there's no critiquing her except to say what we like about it. Tonight she had us in hysterics with a tale about a newlywed housewife and her mundane existence--must win three hands of solitaire before she begins housecleaning, etc. Two others said that through the class they can see a pattern to their writing now, the outline of the project--both are writing for their families and not publication, but the fourth returnee is writing for publication now and has placed a short story. The new members talked about their insecurity about writing, and I remembered that most of the  class began that way and now they're happy to dispense advice and encouragement to others. What a great experience this has been. I'm enjoying it a lot.
Today started out damp and dreary but by the time I emerged from the eye doctor's office, eyes fully dilated, it was bright and sunny. Instead of going to the retirees luncheon, I opted to close my dilated eyes for a long nap! I have had it with doctor appointments--an echocardiogram Monday, skin tumor removal Wednesday, eye doctor today. Each appoointment turned out fine, but it's a wearing way to spend the week. Tomorrow I have to get up really early to take a friend for a colonoscopy,but that's a different thing. I'll treat it like a vacation and read a lot.
Sunny afternoon lightens anyone's disposition. Jacob and I "made up"--he showered me with love, and I gave him the option of doing homework here or at home. He chose home because I'm "sometimes so bossy about it." I think we're still figuring this thing out, but we will. This afternoon he had sparkling cider and declared we were having a party. I sked if he wanted to go into the office and watch TV there and he said no, he wanted to stay at the table and talk. So we talked. Such fun.
Life is good. May it be so for all of you.

Kindergarten homework

Jacob and I have had a rough two days, mostly clashing over homework. He uses any excuse to put it off and I end up feeling like a bully for ordering him to do it after his snack. Today I decided I would try extra hard to make it a more pleasant day than yesterday, so even before we left the school I said I thought a cold rainy day called for hot cocoa. He agreed and ended up dumping semi-sweet minimorsels into it. Then he had a Twinkie (long story why I bought them and won't again) and went off to visit the dogs, who were in their beds because of the rain. I distinctly told him not to let the puppy out of her crate. Next  thing I knew Sophie came bounding into my office. His explanation? He wanted to try his sunglasses on her. That did NOT get us off to a good start.
But we turned to the homework.  Jacob's approach is to guess. One problem had five chickens. If you take two away how many are left? He looked at me brightly and suggested "Five?" Now this is not a slow child--he figures things out way beyond his years when he wants to. He just plain doesn't want to do his homework. We struggled through that math work, counting on fingers and counting animals on the page. Once he gets the hang of it, he whips through it in no time and generally is pretty proud of himself. That didn't happen today--I almost felt he was playing with me, and my string grew shorter and shorter.
Next we moved on to the new batch of reading words he'd brought home. The guessing was much worse. He'd look at "this" and I'd sound out "th" and "iss" and he'd say happily, "Green!" Then he wanted to love the dog; next he was distracted by the pictures on my computer screen. I got read of all distractions. We finally muddled through, and as he finally got each word I made him study it. Told his mom they should go over the words with him again tonight. Bet he doesn't remember them.
We parted friends. I got three kisses, a huge hug, and an agreement that tomorrow will be better. But Mom was quite strict about listening to Juju's dog instructions or losing his dog privileges.
I hate the way this whole business makes me feel, like it's ruining all the fun we usually have together. And I hate it when he says, "You're so mean. All  you care about is homework." I tell him "No, all I care about is you."
I honestly don't think my kids had homework in kindergarten, and I'm too old for this!
Rant over.

Lessons in Humility on a rainy day

Yesterday as I went down the drive to cross the street and pick up Jacob at school, there was a car parked diretly across my driveway. My one peeve about living across from a school, and it's a big one, is that parents are rude. So as I skirted the car and headed across the street, I was in high dudgeon. My friend Booker, the crossing guard, must have guessed my mood because he came over to me and just as I was saying, "Now that's rude in the extreme," he said, "She's handicapped. I told her you don't go anywhere this time of day." Not the first time he's made me see things in a different perspective.
And another lesson: last week when friends were here, Jordan came by and we were talking about an acquaintance whose behavior we didn't exactly like. Jordan said, "She's ... wait I have to think how to say this." Five-year-old Jacob piped up, "Yeah, because there's a child in the room." It made me realize we were being petty to talk about anybody in terms we couldn't say in front of him. Was it Mother Teresa who said if you judge others you don't have time to love them?
Seems to me I get a lot of similar lessons in humility but I'm a slow learner. I look at others who are dealing with illness or unhappiness or aging parents or other family problems, and I'm grateful for my healthy, happy family, my satisfying life as a writer, my house, animals and garden. But I still need to learn to translate that deliberate thanksfulness to automatic response to other people. Hard to do. Don't get me started on some politicians--I may draw the line there:-)
Lunch today with Melinda at our favorite Italian place, Patrizio's. We each had a half grilled chicken salad--their salads are huge and half is just right. As we always do we laughed and hooted and had fun. It was a sunny, pleasant day. By three, when I got Jacob it was gray, and we felt the first few drops.  Tonight it's outright raining, and I'm going to forego my weekly Tuesday night meatloaf fix. Maybe I'll sneak down to the Grill Thursday night and get take-out before my class. This is a good night to stay home, warm and dry.

Kids, cooking, and writing--the stuff of Judy's Stew

The mail brought a delightful surprise today--Lisa had a 2012 calendar made on Snapfsih--all adorable pictures of their adorable children, Morgan and Kegan. When I wrote to thank her she pointed out that she had annotated it for all the birthdays in the family, anniversaries, and major holidays.  I'm always looking for ways to keep track of birthdays, so this will be perfect. And besides I can look at those bright faces.
The same mail brought another bonus--the new issues of Southern Living and Bon Appetit. Two in one day! Work went out the window while I browsed--reading recipes in magazines is absolutely high on my list of favorite things.
Southern Living has, for instance, a whole spread on pimiento cheese. I have only learned to like it in the last few years, but now I love it. I have made good pimiento cheese at home but I also have a favorite "store-bought" brand--Palmetto cheese (not the kind with jalapenos added, thank you). It has cream cheese and just enough red pepper bite. Jordan has turned up her nose a pimiento cheese for years, I suppose because she wasn't raised on it (nor was I as a northerner). But she eats a lot of this if I put it out for an appetizer. That brand was mentioned in the article, along with several others. And there are directions for several varieties--and a pimiento cheese/bacon sandwich. Be still my heart. And how about chutney chicken salad? Yummm.
Bon Appetit this month is devoted to southern cooking--even directions for caring for that cast-iron skillet you can't live without. The last time I followed directions for re-seasoning my skillet, I thought I'd ruined it. But scrubbing stubborn bits with Kosher salt makes sense to me. And skillet-fried chicken sounds heavenly. I've never been successful at frying chicken but this may make me try again.
And writing? Tonight I talked to the mystery class in the community classes program at TCU. My friend Shari Barnes coordinates it and I'm sure it's her leadership that makes it such a lively, funny group. The session was filled with laughter--and some penetrating questions that I had to think about. General concensus: they liked Kelly a lot, so there to to book reviewer who thought she was a cold snob.
What a nice day! Now back to work, but I'm not through with those magazines. That was just the first go-throiugh.

Lovely day, crazy weather, and chocolate

Yesterday it was shirt-sleeve weather--in the seventies; today it was in the low fifties with a cold wind in spite of sunny skies; tomorrow it will be in the seventies. Welcome to North Texas. Still it was a lovely, lazy day--grocery store, household chores--including changing linen on the guest bed. I hate to make beds so I do it by stages--put pillow cases on, several hours later, put sheets on. Still have to put the comforter, pillows, and decorative blanket in place.
No news to anyone but dieting sometimes makes you very hungry. I fixed myself a lovely lunch of one deviled egg, hearts of palm, and brown rice and flax crackers with hummus--healthy, no? But I went back and had a banana, and then, because I was writing a guest blog about chocolate, I had some chocolate--third piece I've had since New Years. Tonight I had two small new potatoes, a bit of spinach and a half hamburger--still hungry. Had blueberries. And I'm still hungry! Discovery: when you cook hamburgers in salt, as I do (my mom taught me that) blue cheese makes them too salty.
But I had fun this afternoon researching a blog on chocolate and writers--actually didn't come up with as much as I expected, but chocolate, for all its possible negative effects--obesity, migraine, etc.--is a "feel good" substance. Debate rages: does it make us feel good because of it's so rich, sensual, creamy, gratifying, dense, and silky smooth--or because it has flavonoids and caffeine and actually gives us a chemical boost? Now to apply that to writing--in 500 words.

Yoga--and me

Ten or more years ago a friend and I took a yoga class at TCU. Maybe 10-15 people in a big, bare room with one mirrored wall. I think it was the mirrors that did me in--even ten years ago I saw that when I leaned over, some things--like my face--didn't stay in place but sagged. Demoralizing. And I didn't particularly like anything about the class, could never stand the relaxation at the end. So I quit, and when all about me were raving about yoga, I resisted. It wasn't for me. I walked for exercise.
Several things happened to change that: both my daughter-in-law Melanie and my good friend Elizabeth began to study yoga and today they are both certified instructors. And I realized that I was no longer sure-footed and didn't have the self-confidence for my daily walk that I once had. It took a while but one day I announced to Elizabeth that I was ready for lessons. She, bless her, didn't gloat, just set up a businesslike arrangement for lessons at my home. I had to convince her I didn't want candles or mood music with the lesson, but gradually I mastered some poses and semi-learned the relaxation/meditaton at the end--the first time I tried that, Elizabeth said indignantly, "You're reading the titles in the bookcase, aren't you?" Relaxation has never been easy for me, but I got to where I did a half-hour workout and began alternating--yoga one day, indoor recumbent bike the next.
I was pretty faithful until I got Sophie last July, then a twelve-week old energetic Bordoodle (half Border Collie, half poodle) pup. Taking care of her wore me out and gave me plenty of exercise. I quit doing anything else. And once you quit, it's hard to return. I did some yoga sporadically but my muscles soon lost the pattern and my conscience kept nagging at me.
Like many people I made some 2012 resolutions, a return to yoga among them. I find I approach it far differently now--for one thing, since retiring two years ago, I am a much more relaxed person and the relaxation part is easier for me--it always turns into prayer (eyes closed, no reading titles) but I do a survey of my muscles, relaxing them body part by body part, and I try to clear my mind of anxiety, negative thoughts and the like. I am also much more focused on my breathing, so that I approach yoga poses with more concentration than I did before I see all this as part of real growth--physical improvement yes, but emotional or spiritual growth.
And my two role models? They're both so busy teaching--and Melanie has an  unrelated day job--that they complain they don't have time for their workouts!
My resolutions also included watching my weight go down, not up. I have a friend who says he lost 17 lbs. by portion control and omitting bread. That's what I'm trying, and I've lost two lbs. I figure slow and steady does it.

A publishing summit--sort of

No Judy's Stew last night because I could not get Gayla Christiansen and Fran Vick to stop chatting; if I left the room, they'd chat about me, so I was stuck. Gayla is director of marketing for Texas A&M Press; Fran is the retired director of the University of North Texas Press, and I am, of course, retired as director of TCU Press. We call ourselves the Front Porch Wine Drinking, World Problem Solving Three Ladies of Publishing. Our sleepovers are hard to schedule and therefore don't happen as often as we'd like, but the ladies do like to come here and let me cook for them. Each has her own bed--Jacob gave permission to Gayla to sleep in his bed, but she'd been sleeping in it long before he ever did. Kathie Lang Allen (retired senior editor from SMU Press) and Carol Roark (retired curator of the Texas Collection at the Dallas Public Library) joined us for dinner and talk ranged from personal to professional and back again, with lots of laughter. I have beene threatened with bodily harm if I share the sources of the laughter but as Gayla said this morning, the comfort level was high. It is good to have old, comfortable friends--and I mean that in the best way. And there are some ex-husbands and husbands whose ears should be burning this morning.
Gayla and I share dog history--I "interviewed" her first dog, Eppi, for her and she loved that dog beyond measure. Eppi died this fall, and Gayla has Jake, sort of a border collie mix. I have been actively watching for a second dog for her--Jake is lonely without Eppi. But both ladies needed to meet Sophie. Late in the evening Gayla sat on the floor and I brought Sophie in, having warned Gayla that once you're on the floor you're a toy and all rules are off. Sophie jumped and licked but soon lay quietly (all adjectives are relative) in Gayla's lap with an occasional venture to let Fran pet her. So nice to know she can do that. I wish I'd gotten pictures--I tried but neither the dog nor the woman were still long enough.
I often surprise the ladies with a gourmet meal, usualy something I've never cooked before. Last night, it was a beet/orange/avocado salad with vinaigrette and a pot of chili. We've decided it must be the "Chili that is not chili." It contained along with all the tomatoes and hamburger orange juice, cinnamon, and cocoa powder in it in addition to coriander and chili powder--no onions. Garlic yes but not discernible. But yes, beans (black). (I can hear chiliheads exclaiming in horror.) I thought there was too much tomato puree and added a can of beer to thin it. And I'd doubled the recipe. You can imagine the result: I have half a pot of chili left over. Sent two ladle-fulls (ladlesfull?) home with each of them, plan to give some to my neighbor, and will serve some to Jordan and Christian and myself tonight.
Dessert? What else after the week's headlines? I served a basket of Twinkies. Not as good as I remember from childhood. I'll see how Jacob likes them this afternoon.
At 11:30 I finally announced I was going to bed (ever the good hostess) and they followed with suitable warnings about alarm systems, coffee pot, front door locks and the newspaper. They probably took half an hour to settle down; at 4:30 Fran's light was on and she was reading in bed. When I got up at 7:00 they were drinking coffee, fully dressed, in the family room. We greeted Jacob on his way to school, which they thought was great fun, and went down the street to the Neighborhood Grill for breakfast about nine. Stayed there an hour, more talking and laughing.
I saw them off with mixed feelings--so much fun, such good friends--but so much to do on my desk. Such breaks are a wonderful change in routine, and I'm lucky to have them happen so often in my life. It isn't always Gayla and Fran, but there's always something around the next corner to look forward to.