Judy Alter's Blog, page 334

Exercise--do you have a regular schedule?

For some time, at least a couple of years, I either did my yoga routine at home or rode my stationery bike. But all that changed with the puppy--I had to be out in the yard with her because she was too little to leave alone, I was housebreaking her, which meant a lot of cleaning up and going back and forth. The first week was like having a newborn in the house--I was exhausted. She gradually got better, though she's got a long way to go before she's a "grown-up" dog. But the demands on my time aren't as great. There is also the Jacob factor--he is often here in the late afternoon when I would normally do my yoga. If I have no errands, I can do it in the morning when the dogs are out, but such days are fairly rare. Result: no exercise. I did my yoga two or three times, sporadically, and worried about not exercising. I rationalized that I'm active, out in the world running errands, eating lunch, etc., cooking at home, and so on. But I knew it wasn't active enough. And Sophie? She has too much energy, so at night when I want to work at my computer, she pesters me.
This morning I sat on the back steps and threw a tennis ball for Sophie, intending to play fetch. She doesn't fetch well--gets hold of the ball and runs in mad circles around the yard, then ventures close to me, growling. When I reach out to pretend to take the ball, she's off in mad circles again. She got lots of exercise and finally quit, winded; I got no exercise, but Scooby got lots of love.
Jordan developed an exercise plan. When she came over today to get Jacob, she would walk Sophie. I suggested we all go. We couldn't get the gentle leader on Sophie and Jordan was impatient to go, so we settled for the regular leash. I didn't even make it from the porch steps to the sidewalk before I gave Sophie to Jordan--I simply do not want to be pulled down and break a hip. So Jordan walked her mother, her son, and her mother's dog. Actually they were all about ten feet ahead of me the entire way, with Sophie pulling on the leash constantly. Once around our double block, part of which is uphill, and I retired from the field. I found as I had in Scotland that uphill is hard for me. Jordan, Jacob and Sophie ran around the block the second time.
They left about five, and I had dinner plans at seven--two hours with no specific chores. I did my yoga routine, and it felt good. So I hope I'm on a new track. I know I won't work something in every day. Tomorrow, I have errands in the morning, a lunch date, Jacob in the afternoon, and a dinner date. But there are many days I could do the yoga, and when Jordan can walk, I will too. Her plan is to walk once with me, run once with Jacob, and then run once by herself, taking Sophie on all three trips.
Sophie is sleeping peacefully in my office, and I expect to sleep well tonight. I hope I'm not like the new convert who gets religion for three months, but as I sit in peace at my desk, I see the benefits of exercise.

Deck the halls

I spent today decorating not halls but surfaces--the mantel, two buffets, a library table, and the dining table. For years, I had a huge tree but since the year one fell over in the middle of a party, I haven't had another tree. The kids all have trees at their houses and it doesn't seem worth it to put one up in my house. If that's curmudgeon-like, I apologize. But I do like to give the house a festive spirit--at least, the living and dining rooms, the so-called public spaces of the house.
When I was a kid, decorating the tree was not the happy family affair I thought it should be--I recall the entire family going to pick out a tree. Squabbles surely followed, but we brought a home the best tree most of us could agree on. My father and brother trimmed the lower branches, put the tree in a stand (Mom was always particular about keeping lots of water in the stand), strung the lights and retired from the field, leaving Mom and me to hang decorations. One year, after John and I were grown, Mom got a flocked table tree and decorated it in pink--I remember my father was distinctly displeased. I decided when I had a home, trimming the tree would be festive, so for years I had a tree trimming party. Although gifts were not requested, many guests brought unique ornaments and I ended with a marvelous collection of ornaments, many of them Texas-themed from those who knew my interest in Texana. So now I have all those ornaments and no tree.
To me, the fireplace mantel is always focal--and always the hardest to do. Today it was the last thing I did, and I thought I'd need Jordan's help to pull it together, but tonight I did it. The main items are the tall red vase, part of the decorations from the Christmas wedding of Jordan and Christian seven years ago, and the Jim Shores Santa with its 12-days of Christmas motif. Newly added is a tiny Jim Shores angel, meant of course to hang on a tree. At the other end of the mantel and is a creche handmade in a small village in Guatemala. Making these creches has brought sustainability to the village, so I like the idea as well as the finished product.
Next on my agenda was the buffet in the living room. Every house should have a toy train at Christmas, so here's the one I put out every year.
I try to make the dining room table different every year--fairly easy because I can never remember what I did the year before. This year I decided to go with a fairly spare look--no greens except the wreath, which has four holders for tapers that are on my shopping list. The bowl was also part of the wedding decorations. And finally because Christmas should be a time of cutter and randomness, I put out a display of ornaments. This is just a portion of my large collection.

The Lost is Found ... and an unexpected day

Hooray! I have found my fetish necklaces, missing for some months now. This morning, as I was dressing, I suddenly remembered that they had tangled so much in the drawer that I hung them on a hook in my closet. I looked, and sure enough, under a sweatshirt and something else, there hung my necklaces. Overjoyed. Also have a small compensation for the lost gray shirt--I ordered pajama jeans and they came with a free T-shirt. It's short-sleeved, scoop-necked, and a nice shade of gray. Not the J.Jill one I've lost but better than nothing. So now I have hope for the good gray shirt. And the yellow dishrag? Who cares!
Book signing this morning was not a success--people don't come to a funky hardware store full of old, really old and good stuff expecting to buy a book. I made one sale, just as I was leaving, to a man who hung around all morning because his wife/partner/whatever was the sales clerk, general factotum in charge. I think he did it out of pity, since she'd already bought a copy. But she gave me lots of information on the house that first inspired Skeleton in a Dead Space--and some great ideas for the fourth book. Can  you believe that--one book out and I'm already thinking about #4. The second is done, and I need to edit the third, which is complete in draft. So here I am thinking about the fourth book. Wow! What a change from two years ago.
My friend Sue and I intended to lunch at Carshon's deli today but it was closed. So we ate Mexican at Esperanza's--Sue had tortilla soup, which I should have had, but I had the enchilada platter--one chicken, one cheese, a taco and beans. Tonight I had an upscale dinner with Mary Volcansek--steak tartare but of course I sabotaged myself by eating chocolate mousse. I got to figure out this eating thing and get more disipline.
As if it would help my discipline, I came home and made "dirt pudding" for dinner tomorrow night--oreos, Cool Whip, powdered sugar, cream sheese, and milk--oh yeah, and a stick of butter. I tell myself I made it for Jacob, and I will only have a small bite.
Tomorrow is a cooking day. Haven't really been cooking in a long time, and I'm looking forward to it. But when I'm cooking, am I avoiding editing? Oh, that blasted Puritanical conscience.

The day after Thanksgiving

Today, my thoughts are on re-living yesterday's family fellowship--and a spirited political discussion--plus the wonderful meal. But lots of other folkls are thinking about shopping and movies and, well forgive me, but crass commercialism.
Jamie's father-in-law said he was thinking about going to WalMart at midnight because they had something--computers?--at a super price he wanted to get. And my 12-year-old granddaughter was all too ready to go with him. They didn't go, of course, but this morning, he was bummed to find out WalMart actually opened at ten. I'm still relieved they didn't go. There's been lots written lately about Thursday night shopping detracting from the family atmosphere of the one day in the year when we gather together to give thanks. (Jordan and I went to church last Sunday, and I loved singing those old familiar Thanksgiving hyms, including "We gather together.") I think Thursday night shopping is pushing it too far. Okay, I'm a curmudgeon.
But I've read tonight that there were riots in several stores and in one WalMart in an upscale neighborhood in California a woman pepper-sprayed fellow shoppers to get an advantage. This, when we're all still reeling about pictures of the pepper spraying at UC-Davis! She apparently got away, and people suffered "only minor injuries." I'm sure if it was you or a loved one, minor would become a relative term.
We went to lunch today at Buco di Peppo, a free-standing restaurant on the outer fringe of Stonebriar Mall in Frisco. Although I expected a wait, Jamie called ahead, and we were all nine seated immediately. Jordan and I ordered salads and asked for instant delivery, since we had to rush--oh, double that instant delivery on our wine. My chopped salad was delicious and was both lunch and dinner, and Buco di Peppo has improved the quality of their wine since I was last there. It's a good Italian place, where you go through the kitchen to get to your table. But the traffic getting in and out of the mall was awful.
We rushed away from lunch, leaving the others, to go to a nearby movie theater and pick up Jacob who had gone to see "Happy Feet II" with his other grandparents. Jordan said, "Everyone in the world is at this theater," and I reminded her that no, the other half were at the mall. I would not have gone to a mall or a movie today for all the tea in China, and I'm a bit bothered by those who did.
Yep, I'm a curmudgeon (is that a gender specific term?). I hate it that Christmas carols and decorations go up before Halloween and the biggest thing about Thanksgiving is bargain shopping. For me, it is family and turkey and all the trimmings and the wonderful family time that comes when everyone is full of turkey and sides and wine and relaxed yet not ready for bed.
It's a special holiday. Let's keep from ruining it. Remember Small Business Saturday. As I posted on Facebook, I'll be signing at Old Home Supply tomorrow, a small business if there ever was one, and then having lunch at Carshon's and dinner at Sapristi's--both independent, small restaurants.
We discussed and argued and carried on last night about the 99% and the Occupy movement--I'm wondering how Small Business Saturday relates to that, if at all. Somehow I have a Pollyanna-like notion that ordinary people are making their voices heard. If so,  you all shout--especially in the voting booth!

Those fried turkeys

My sons and sons-in-law have been frying turkeys with enthusiasm for several years--Colin and Brandon have fryers, and so far we have avoided disasters. Then I saw a truly frightening video on the TODAY show about the disasters that can occur and how many people are seriously injured a year frying turkeys--also houses fried by mistake. So I was relieved I'd with with Jamie and Mel, where I could expect a tradtiional turkey done in the oven. Imagine my dismay when Jamie last night announced he was going to WalMart to buy a fryer. I lectured about dangers to no avail.
Mid-afternoon today he discovered that his fryer came in a hundred parts and had to be assembled. All hands turned out to help--except me. I was having a lovely long nap. There was much prep and the moment came--the fully defrosted turkey was lowered into the hot grease without incident, and the cooks congratulated themseles.
Thirty-five minutes later it came out looking golden and good--okay, the legs and wings were burned, but it looked good. Jamie knows I love skin, so I got the first bite. I usually o.d. on skin and am too full to eat the meal. This was crisp and succulent. Then came the carving.
Jamie complained an audience made him nervous but he did a beauatiful job. And the meat was moist with just the right texture. Mel fixed excellent sides--we are a traditional family, with green bean casserole, dressing and mash ed potatoes and gravy. For dessert, coconut pie and chess pie--I love the latter but one bite will do you. I've seen all kinds of recipes but Mel's is the traditional old-fashioned kind with white vinegar and cornmeal. And mostly sugar. I'm trying to get her to do a blog post about it.So we had a happy Thanksgiving, with not all my family but Melanie's family and my Frisco Alters, and we have much to be thankful for. Maddie is learning sign language and she signed that she was thankful for family. Her younger sister tried to valiantly to sign "What Maddie said." And here's our budding fashionista in her holiday outfit--she wouldn't get out of her pjs until the last minutes because she didn't want to reveal her outfit!I hope everyone had a blessed and happy holiday, and I pray for those who were lonely, hungry, sick this holiday. May God bless them.Now, lickety-split on to Christmas.

A food day

Seems like the major thing I did today was eat. Betty, Jordan, Jacob and I went to the Frank Kent Honda dealership for lunch--lunch in a car dealership? Yep. It was great. Good friend David Rottman, who once owned and ran Cafe Aspen, has gone to work there, and they asked him to spiff up their on-site cafe. He's brought back a lot of his classic Cafe Aspen items--the chicken salad, those delicious hamburgers, coriander chicken salad, turkey club, fish of the day, soup of the day--all wonderful stuff in a much more casual atmosphere--you order at the counter and eat at shiny new chrome tables with banquette backs snaking through the space. And you don't have to buy a car. My sense is that it's a serivce to customers while they wait for repairs and to employees but anyone can wander in and have lunch--and an early supper. I think they close at six. We visited with David only briefly, but it was really a reunion. Great experience.
By serendippity, a friend from church was there waiting for her car and she joined us, so it was a lively and interesting lunch time--two hours, thanks very much.
Tonight was neighbors night at the Old Neighborhood Grill, and I had an unexpected date--Jacob. He was the star of the party--kept everyone entertained. He'd start a story with "Hey, guys!" and I frequently had to remind him not to interrupt when others were talking. Aftr all, they did want a bit of adult conversation. But they all seemed charmed with him and his stories. He had corn fritters and alternated between ketchup and syrup on them.
Both our lunch and dinner companions said Jacob really ought to be having a career as a child actor or model--which his dad did. They were struck with his outgoing personality and charming happy face. At one point at lunch he was behind me, and I said, "Jacob Burton, you come give me a hug." I'd turn one way and he'd dart the other; we kept it up for a while, and Genie, who had joined us, said "I'm sure my day is going to be lot better just from seeing his face behind you."
Mr. Charming just tried to convince me he had two broken legs and couldn't get up to go potty and brush his teeth. I told him to crawl, which he did a bit until he bounced to his feet and said, "Fooled you!" He's right now watching the Food Network and appears to be quite engaged in it. Maybe he caught on that this was a food day too.
Glad to report that although I've not found any of my lost items, they've given me a new idea for another Kelly O'Connell novel. And my electronic problems--email on laptop and phone, plus sending pictures on the phone--all seem to be solved. Things are moving in the right direction.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Paranormal, supernatural--do you believe?

I've never been one to believe in ghosts or the like, but then I certainly won't deny the possibility. I've been known to tell stories others have told me about the friendly ghosts--I like to call them haints--that live in a house I once lived in. Winston, my almost-brother, saw them in the living room, and good friend Anne reported they woke her when she was sleeping in the guest room. So I'm always in a state of uncertainty, but lately I'm beginning to believe there's one--or at least a poltergeist--in my house.
A tiny unimportant thing this morning convinced me--I couldn't find the yellow dishrag that I used last night. I looked everywhere, even in the trash, but it has simply vanished. I'd attribute that to a senior moment, but there was yesterday morning when I found the grocery list I keep on my desk in the middle of the living room floor. Okay, there's a possibility that I carried a sheaf of recipes from my desk to the bedroom, picked that up by mistake, and it fell out--but I don't really believe that.
So far, this is the list of mysteriously missing items at my house:
1 yellow dishrag
1 paper-clipped sheaf of recipes with a menu plan attached
1 grey T-shirt that I really loved wearing
3 strands of fetish necklaces, intertwined--also much loved
This morning I almost thought I'd lost my pink sweatshirt jacket, but I found it--I'd hung it in the wrong closet. Also, by thoroughly cleaning a closet, I found my favorite gray sweat jacket. But those other items? I have searched and searched and they are nowhere.
And there's another kind of presence in my house--in the moirnings I frequently wake with the sense that someone else, someone friendly and protective, is sleeping in my house. Sometimes of course I know that it's Jacob tucked in his bed in the family room, but other times I most often think it's my mom, who's been gone twenty-four years. And for just an instant I think I am in my bed in the house in Madison Park, where I grew up, and Mom is just in the next room. It's a comforting feeling, but I don't know what a psychiatrist would make of it.
Mom, however, would not steal my favorite gray T-shirt or my fetish necklaces, and she had enough recipes of her own that she wouldn't want mine--in fact some of mine are from her. As for the dishrag--go figure!
I'm enjoying Jacob's vacation, perhaps more than he is. I took a delicious long late afternoon nap today instead of rushing to nap so I can get up at 2:45 to run meet him in the schoolyard. Love it on a dull rainy chilly day like today.
If I weren't very frustrated by phone problems, I'd be a happy camper. I took some pictures this morning with both phone and camera that I wanted to send off with a guest blog tonight. Went to download them from the camera and discovered that Sophie, in her worst chewing stage, had mangled the cord that goes from camera to USB port. So I sent them to myself from my phone--but they just stacked up in unsent items, although I can send email and text messages. A lengthy talk with TCU Help Desk this morning straightened out my email problems but even a talk with Apple support and a forty-five minute session with ATT didn't solve the picture problem. It's like my pictures are frozen in my camera and phone. Maybe it's that polergeist.

Random food thoughts

This morning I was watching the Food Network and restaurant chef Anne Burrell was cooking a turkey--a brined turkey with apple cider gravy to be specific. When she pulled it out of the oven, it was a delicious dark brown color, which she attributed to the brining and then the massage with herb butter. She checked the interal temperature to be sure it was thoroughly cooked and then said she was putting it in the refrigerator, uncovered, overnight, to dry out. What? I thought the whole point of cooking turkey was to keep it moist. What's with dry out? Later in the segment (supposedly the next day) she carved it and commented on how moist it was. I'm puzzled, but I guess the skin dried out and became crisp and good--makes my mouth water. I love turkey skin! Apparently the gravy was delicious too--she not only dipped a piece in and took a big bite, she double-dipped. I had just tried to teach Jacob last night that double dipping his cracker in hummus was rude.
An odd eating schedule today--I had lunch at ten-thirty, so I could get a nap before I went to sign books at one at Barnes & Noble. Had a chicken thigh--I had sprinkled it with soy, garlic powder, and seasoned salt and baked for thirty minutes, then turned and did the same thing Thursday night for Linda and me, and I had one left over. Makes the best cold chicken thigh I've ever had. I like chicken thighs almost as much as turkey skin. (Note: sprinkle the soy first, so it doesn't wash away the powdered seasonings.
[image error] Jacob and his mom came to visit at the signing. I sold eight books in an hour and a half, which is pretty good for a "cold" signing at a big bookstore. Traffic dwindled, because the TCU footbal game began.
Tonight I fixed mashed potatoes, English peas, and breakfast link sausages for Jacob and me. He said it was the best day ever and the best dinner and he loved me. Guess I'll rush out and get more sausages. After my Scotland trip, I wanted to teach him the terminology, so we practiced saying we'd had bangers and mash for supper.
Then I discovered a recipe catastrophe. I'd spent a lot of time working out the menu and collecting both recipes and the RSVP list for my annual Christmas party. It ws all clipped together. Tonight I was going to make my traditional blue cheese ball and freeze it and came to my desk to look for the recipe. I couldn't find any of the paperwork! Not a panic tonight as I have the recipe in a cookbook and practically know it by heart, but the loss of all the other papers is a big tragedy. I can recover some of the recipes and the guest list but there were some I've never cooked before--and I want those recipes. There was a molded cheese ring with raspberry jam--and I've already bought the jam. I know all this will show up, but I may have to go through the whole file drawer in my desk. It is so frustrating.
But the best part of the day? Jacob just went off to watch TV--at 8:45 mind  you, not as though he's been glued to it all evening. And his parting words? 'Juju, I love you!" Be still my heart.

Odd thoughts

I"ve been sitting at my desk, trying to decide if I have any thoughts to blog about. It's almost ten-thirty, Jacob is asleep (he fell asleep with the TV on), the dogs are in their beds, and the house is quiet. A wonderful time of day. Tonight good friends Weldon and Elizabeth came for suppr--leftover pulled pork chili and they brought the salad. Easy way to entertain. We got to talking about people and life, and I said I've decided there are two kinds of people--those who are engaged in life and take charge and those who just let life happen to them. My high school/church/college chum who was here last weekend talked about that when she wrote me that she had enjoyed meeting my family and friends because they were all so engaged in life. I guess I didn't introduce her to those who aren't--and there's probably an obvious reason there. But there are people I worry about because they are so passive--they don't take charge in relationships, health care, whatever. And sometimes those people can drag me down, so I find myself avoiding them--and then I feel guilty. Well, guilt is the first  thing to get rid of, as I preached to my memoir class last night. And often,  you can't help people who aren't engaged in life--they don't see life in the same terms that I do. But I know I'll still keep reaching out, trying to help, trying to change them. I long ago decided I'm a nurturer, a caregiver.
And my memoir class--we had our last fall session last night, and it was a doozie Three people presented papers, and my friend Linda summed it up best when we had our circle closing. We're supposed to say one word about how we feel, but Linda said she couldn't say it in one word because she was so grateful for the women in the room and their depth and complexity. What's said there, stays there but I wish I could share--a short story that led us into a great discussion of the structure of short stories, a woman's comparison of giving birth in the States and England, a cookbook interspersed with memoirs.
Today on Facebook a male friend  said he wished he could find a similar class for men, and I told him to start one. Several women have expressed interest in joining the class, and most of the present class want to come back, so I guess I'll be doing this for a while.
Now, if I could just get those passive people involved. Or maybe I can't save the world.

Random acts of kindness vs. instinct

Today when I was running errands in the neighborhood, I drove by a woman standing on the side of the street. She had a cane although she was not elderly, and I assumed she was waiting for me to pass before crossing in the middle of a block. It was a gorgeous day--what happened to that rain we were promised?--and I had the top down. She lifted her hand, and I waved back. Only as I passed did I hear her say something like, "Excuse me?" or "Please." I did not stop, and then my conscience beat me up. Yet there was something just enough off that I didn't want to stop. I knew if she asked for a ride, I didn't want to let her in my car.
We're told constantly to listen to our instincts, and I believe it--but that warning conflicts with the idea of random acts of kindess. And I'd been the recipient of random acts of kindness the day before.So how do we know what to do?
A few minutes laters, as I drove by a TCU parking lot, a student shot out into the middle of the street before he looked either way--I stopped and waved him on, which he never acknowledged with a smile or a wave. My stopping was definitely instinct and not an act of kindness, but there was no sense honking angrily and bullying my way through even though I was in the right. There's the middle ground, I guess.
I once read a book, or started it, on the important or value of fear. Many mystery writers tout this book as a great source. I read a bit and gave it up, but the basic point was that fear is a great self-preservation instinct. If it feels wrong, it probably is wrong. (Oh, how I long to turn that into a comment on politics, but I'll refrain.) I think it's a valid point, but then again we don't want to live our lives in fear nor, heaven forbid, pass that on to our children and grandchildren. I do have a lot of fears like heights and deep water and so on, although not as many as my grandmother, but still I've worked hard at not foisting them off on my children.And the result is that they're a fairly fearless bunch. But I think they too feel the instinct of self-preservation.
Countering that is what we hear in church or elsewhere about being our brother's keeper, looking after our neighbor, thinking of others. That's the kind of person I want to be.
So what wouldy you have done? Would you have backed up to see what the lady with the cane wanted? Would you, as I have, spend much of the day worrying about her? Or would you dismiss it and decide your instincts were right.
Fortunately my day took a much more positive turn with the arrival of Jacob. We went out to dinner with "Aunt Betty" and had a good time. A friend at the next table talked with Jacob and then said to me, "I guess we have no issues with sociability." I laughed and agreed. And Jacob said to me, "This has been a fun day." Makes the whole day worthwhile.