Judy Alter's Blog, page 335

Random acts of thoughtfulness

Today I'm grateful for the kindness and caring of people around me. I thought my only feelings about today would be that it was an expensive day--and it was. The puppy was spayed; the plumber replaced the corroded pipes under my house that had meant no hot water in the kitchen--and predicted I'll need a new hot water heater soon; the electric gate was broken and a gentleman scheduled to fix it. Plus I went on fairly major shopping trips to Origins cosmetics and PetSmart, where I thought I as buying a 20 lb. sack of dog food and bought a 35 lb. one--clearly too big for me to manage.
The crossing guard at the school corner by my house has taken it upon himself to watch out for me--and I'm grateful. This morning, as I got in my car, he yelled, "You be carefull"--the same thing I say to my kids all the time. Then when I went to back into the street, he stopped traffic and yelled, "Granny, come on!" (Colin says his kids will now call me "Granny.")
This afternoon when the plumber arrived, he carried in my sack of dog food before he got to work on the plumbing. Since he knows the house and was mostly working under it, I went ahead and took a nap, only to be awakened by knocking on the door and "Are you all right?" It seems Booker, the crossing guard, became alarmed when I didn't answer the door and there were trucks in the driveway, so he came in, found the plumbers at work. They told him I was asleep, and he said, "She's got to approve what you're doing"--as if I'd crawl under the house to check on them! When I went out to talk to the gate man Booker came up and said, "You scared me. You need to get me your daughter's number so I can call her if I get worried about you again. I got to take care of you. You're the only Granny I got." (He's probably at the most 15 years  younger than I am!) But I really was touched that he was concerned. We hugged and he went off to shepherd children across the street. He's everyone's friend and stops to have conversations with lots of the parents. When I went to get Jacob, he repeated he wanted Jordan's card.
And the final act of kindness--the gate man said I had a bad battery charger. I asked if he didn't just put that one in and he said in June; it was defective. When I asked how much I owed him for the service call, he said, "No charge." Apparently he'd had several of them go bad, but Ithoiught it was kind of him not to charge for his time.
I'm tired tonight--it's been a hectic day. Sophie, my recovering surgical patient, is lying quietly sleeping, but she gets up every time I do. Scooby has given his new bed a complete sniff examination and is apparently satisfied with it. It's supposed to be orthopedic foam, whatever that means, but I'm afraid his old legs sink into it so that he will feel unsure of his footing. Oh well, I think I'll go "examine" my own bed soon.


Can't resist posting these pictures of some of my brother's cattle--Pam, one of my weekend guests, took the pictures, and I thought they were striking.

Today I'm grateful for ...

I may get repetitious in this daily gratitude thing, but today, once again, I am grateful for friends, old and new. Today my "new" friends (we've been friends at least ten years) Jean and Jeannie came for lunch with my "old" friend, Barbara, and the new friend she so nicely brought to me, Pam. I made a pot of pulled pork chili--watch for the recipe on Potluck with Judy soon because it was really good and also easy. We had a good time visiting--they found lots to talk about, lots in common.
After dishes were done--not hard at all--I took Barbara and Pam on a short tour of my corner of Fort Worth. Barbara had wanted to see Fairmount because it's the setting of Skeleton in a Dead Space, She asked why I chose Fairmount and I tried to explain it's the interesting nature of the neighborhood--all those imaginatively redone old houses with fewer and fewer falling down ones, but still some--and the history. So pleasant and comfortable in its day, Fairmount began a slide into rental and neglected property in the last half of the twentieth century but then was reborn as a fashionable neighborhood because of its proximity to downtown and the hospital district. For a while there, newcomers moving into the neighborhood called themselves urban pioneers. We drove by Lili's, which is mentoned in the second book, and Nonna Tata, mentioned often in the first book. Of course, we'd eaten at the Old Neighborhood Grill last night, which is the most frequently mentioned restaurant in the book.
Tonight we went from folksy neighborhood grill to upscale Patrizio's. Barbara treated us to dinner, and I suggested Italian. She and I had cheese-filled ravioli with artichokes and tomatoes in a lemon/butter sauce--delicious. Pam had penne caprese--a similar sauce on penne. We came home with doggy bags and sat in the living room exchanging stories about our lives and laughing a lot. I can't believe two naive young girls from Chicago have had the adventures and complications--mostly with relatives--that we have had. What's nice is that we're upbeat about it, optimistic about the future, and so lucky to be surrounded by children.
Barbara's visit, made possible by Pam, has been a real blessing for me, and I am so grateful to both of them. It's wonderful to talk with someone about a life now long gone and to remember its joys and even its funny, embarrassing moments. And this is repetitious too, but I feel so thankful that we're so "in sync" probably almost sixty years after we first became friends. Doesn't happen often!
I will see "the girls" (Jordan's term for them) off with a bit of sadness tomorrow but the hope they'll be back soon.
And then I'll get back to work! I've had fun but I have a full week ahead of me.

Seeing Texas through Mississippi eyes

Last night in memoir class we talked about the idea that you cannot tell another person's story. You can only tell your perception of it. So I can't tell you for sure how my houseguests reacted to the mini-Texas tour today--but from my point of view, it was a great success and they enjoyed it thoroughly. We first drove to Granbury, where they admired the picturesque courthouse, newly cleaned up and now glistening, and the charming buildings around the square. My eyes have seen the Granbury square many more times than I can count, but I thought it looked lively, a bit more spruced up today. We browsed for quite a while in The Panhandle, my favorite cooking store--and I did a little Christmas shopping. Then on to my friend Linda's store, Almost Heaven. Actually Linda met us at The Panhandle and gave a walking tour as we ambled along the block and a half to her store. Linda's store is a delight with beatiful and clever decorative pieces, mounted sayings--Barbara bought one that said, "Grace is not something we say before meals. It's a way of life"--purses, throws, all sorts of things, but all tasteful.  Linda has a terrific flair for display these things in an eye-catching way.
Then it was on to the old house that Linda and Rodger have redone with the same flair they show in the store--it's a delightful residence. Dee Gormley, who ran a knockout bookstore and put on wonderful literary events for years, joined us for lunch--chicken tortilla soup, salad, cole slaw and pumpking cheesecake. Wonderful company, wonderful food. The ladies came away thinking I have really great friends--which is true.
We went on to Tolar and Musick Road and my brother's ranch. He practically met us at the door with wine glasses in hand.We visited for a bit and then John and Cindy gave us the deluxe tour of the ranch--it is so dry and the stock tanks down, but they still have pastures of little bluestem, now dry and straw-colored, and something I  think he called King bluestem, which lies close to the ground. Both will make excellent forage for the cattle in the winter. John loves to explain the geography and ecology of his land--how they brought the pastures back, the view of the Brazos River valley, the menace of feral hogs--and Barbara and Pam asked intelligent questions, plus Pam took some incredibly good pictures of the cattle feeding. My idea of their story is that this was a day unlike any other they'd ever spent, and they enjoyed it. Pam has traveled extensively to Europe and places in the U.S., Barbara has traveled but not quite so extensively. Still I think this was a new and totally different day for them. And I always enjoy riding around the ranch--the land is beautiful, and today was a perfect day. Back at the house, I rushed us off to Fort Worth fairly quickly, worried about my puppy who had been in her crate all day. She seems none the worse for it.
We went to the Old Neighborhood Grill for supper with Jordan, Christian and Jacob. Barbara knew about the Grill from reading Skeleton in a Dead Space and hearing about my two signings there, so she was delighted to visit it.  And everyone seemed to enjoy dinner.
My house is quiet again--dogs asleep, guests gone to the apartment. But as they left Pam said to me, "Wonderful family, wonderful friends." Yep, that's how I feel about it too--I am blessed with family and friends. And it's fun to share my little corner of Texas with others, particularly with someone who like me grew up in Chicago's South Side. John felt that too, and at one point said, "It's not the South Side of Chicago." Other times he referred to growing up in the city, as we all did, and once said you couldn't see weather coming in the city but out there, you can.
Yes, Barbara and John, we've come a long and good way from Chicago's Hyde Park.

Golden times

Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver, the other is gold.

That saying has real meaning for me tonight. My best friend from high school is visiting for the weekend. Barbara Bucknell and I even went to off to college in Mt. Vernon, Iowa, together. As she said tonight, she loved it and I hated it. Small town, really small, really strict school--and I was in love with a young man in Chicago. Barbara jumped in to the social life and loved it; I, being a bit shy, never did as well. We still have to have the discussion about what happened to our college roommates--I  remember the name of hers, but only the first name of mine!
Today Barbara is Barbara Bucknell Ashcraft, recently widowed, mother of five, grandmother of fourteen. She and a friend, Pam, came today from Jackson, Mississippi. Neither Barbara nor I are much on driving on the highway, so Pam is the angel that brought us together.
We picked up right where we left off. Barbara's beloved husband, Don, used to complain that all we ever talked about when we got together--there have been lots of visits over the years--was things that happened in the past. I hope he was listening tonight, because all we talked about was children and grandchildren. We really caught up on each other's families, although we semi-keep up all along. I think it's wonderful that our friendship has endured for over fifty years. I was in Barbara's wedding party, and she and her husband celebrated their 50th anniversary a couple of years ago. We have so many ties, so many common memories--and yes, those come out over a glass of wine too. Some funny, some nostalgic, all treasures.
Tonight was also my memoir class, a class where we've agreed what is said there goes no farther. But the class willingly invited Barbara and Pam to sit in. Pam faded midway through and excused herself, but Barbara stayed, participated in the comments, and said she enjoyed the whole thing immensely.
And of course guests give me a good chance to cook. Tonight it was black bean soup with feta and fesh cilantro--colorful and good. I had made some of Jacques Pepin's fromage fort (strong cheese) and I spread it on a portobello mushroom and broiled it, then cut it in small wedges. Great appetizer, if a bit garlicky.
All in all a lovely evening. I'm basking in a happy golden glow. I guess maybe it's all golden, because we are in our golden years. Who would ever have believed when we were going to church together as teenagers that we'd still have so much in common and be so compatible almost sixty years later. I'm tempted to quote one of my mom's favorite sayings: "The Lord works in mysterious ways!"

Writing as discovery

I've talked about pantsers vs. plotters before, but essentially pantsers write by the seat of their pants. They don't plot--they just plunge in and see where it goes. I'm a pantser and, as I wrote recently, that habit often leaves me adrift in the broken middle of a manuscript. But the other day I confidently told Fred, my beta reader, that I had been writing the "climactic" scene of my work-in-progress. Of course when I got back to it, I found that just summarizing the remainder of the events was not going to do at all. I hadn't really finished writing the book. I had at least a chapter and an epilogue to go.So yesterday, I wrote over 2500 words--I didn't really keep count--and I burned myself out on it. This morning, as I lay in bed contemplating getting up and starting the day (I do that a lot) I realized that I had to milk that final action scene--there were a lot of details I hadn't accounted for and some things that could heighten the suspense and also add to the emotion, even the humor. But I'm not ready to go back to that work yet. I think that's a good sign--it's percolating on the back burner in my brain.
Meantime, I started reading a novel I'd written after Skeleton in a Dead Space. I wasn't getting much encouragement with Skeleton, and I felt the need to be writing something. When Turquoise Morning Press enthusiastically accepted Skeleton, I put the new work aside, polished the one they contracted for, and went back to the sequel I'd also started. The new work languished, and in my mind it became more amateurish, the protagonist more of a Pollyanna. The more I was distanced from it, the less enthusiastic I became.
Well, last night I started re-reading that work, and you know what? I kind of like it? I see a lot of work to be done on it, mostly cutting which is a problem because it's already on the short side. But I'm making notes and correcting small things as I go along. But Kate isn't a Pollyanna--she's a singlel woman in her thirties with a background. I can't judge about amateurish--who can judge their own work? But I'm kind of hooked on reading it. I intended it to be a culinary mystery, but I'll sure have to beef up that aspect and, yes, I think I'll add recipes. That thought makes me miss my dear friend Reva, for she could tell me how to cook turnip greens and poke sallet and chicken-fried steak and the other delicacies that they servce in a small-town East Texas cafe. After all, I'm not sure Paula Deen could make  decent chicken-fried steak!
Of course, there's that old question: is it better to continue a series or take off in a new direction? I'll worry about that tomorrow!

Frogs and snails, and puppydog tails

I've been trying to recall the mischief my boys got  into. They accuse me often of just not remembering their squabbles and tricks. I do still have the mental image of Colin who at about 18 mos. covered himself thoroughly with corn starch or baby powder or some similar white stuff--I can see him standing in the hall, a dusty white ghost. At about the same time he stuck one foot in the commode and flushed, watching intently--I did get a picture of that. And the time Jamie wrote on the wall--but what child doesn't do that? Jamie was always into something, from stepping in every puddle he could find to dragging home a stray cat by the tail. But in my mind they really weren't mischievous.
I had a lesson in inventive mischief this weekend, with three little boys, ages 5-7, running loose Sunday morning. When they were supposedly playing with the dogs in the backyard, they took Scooby, my big old Aussie who was muddy, into the guest house--forbidden and unfamiliar territory for him. They proceeded to freeze wet balls of toilet paper in the small fridge out there. Then they froze acorns and leaves and finally they filled an ice cube tray with mud and froze it. Megan defrosted and cleaned, bless her! Then she swept out the mud they'd tracked in.
If those boys went in and out the back door once, they did so a thousand time. My alarm system does a little jingle when a door is opened and closed--I find it nice for monitoring Jacob but yesterday the system seemed to sing all morning. Muddy dogs streaked into the house, Sophie once making right for her favorite chair in the living room, followed by my two screaming daughters. If someone let her in wherever Ford was, he began to scream because she jumped on him--well, of course she did: he was screaming. The boys climbed on tables, rode the ancient trike at breakneck speed, and chased each other. They had a wonderful time, punctuated of course by quarrels and spells of yelling at each other. The quietest thing they did was to pore over those advertising inserts that come in the Sunday paper, pointing out toys for their Christmas lists: "I want that . . . and that . . . and that" until each boy had a list of dozens of items. I never did find out who smashed rocks on the porch steps by the driveway, creating a white powdery dust I did not want tracked into the house. You've never seen such expressions of innocence. And Jacob opened the driveway gate and went out to talk to a neighbor--I didn't even know he knew how to open it, but now that he does, it's forbidden.
In retrospect they were adorable and wonderful and fun; at the time, maybe not so much:-)

Family days

Whew! Family days are wonderful, and I bask in having them all around me. But they are exhausting too. This afternoon I had three grandsons ages 5-7, and one wild excited puppy. Tonight we all went to Joe T.'s for dinner--six adults and five children--well, Maddie at twelve hardly counts as a child. But Joe T.'s is noisy, and though I turned my hearing aids on the setting that was most meant to block out extraneous noise, I could only catch words, not the thread of a conversation. Some folks find it fashionable to say  that the food at Joe T.'s is sub-par and its only attraction is habit and luxurious grounds. Not so--I think it's all good, and I sop up too much of it. Cheese enchiladas in a mild tomato sauce--I love to mush my refried beans into that sauce. Those wonderful cheese nachos--okay, I scrape the chillies off but I still love them. Great guac, and tonight I liked the tacos, though I often pass them by. They didn't seem as greasy tonight.  Somebody at our table ordered sopapillas, and I loved the sweet--the sopapillas weren't particularly crisp but the honey/cinnamon combination was great. All in all a good meal. The kids clustered around Jamie, as kids are wont to do, and it s a wonder he got any dinner. He was, as always, impeccably dressed, and I worried about about all those greasy young handprints on his jacket. But, hey, that was his problem.
It was a semi-lazy, semi-frantic day. Sawyer and Ford were around until about ten--into everthing, curious, questioning, full of it. They left about ten and I had about an hour of peace before i took Sophie to training class--always an anxious time for me. Lesson went well. In fact, I feel we made some progress. And then home to a blessedly empty house--lunch and a nice nap. And then it was time to go to dinner.
So it's been a very different day from my usual routine, and I'm grateful for the change, the confusion, the happy voices, the joy. Tonight I have Megan and her family in the guest house and Jordan and Jacob in the guest room--love to have some of my chickens under my roof at night.

There's something about Fridays

Today I felt like a balloon--if you let a little bit of air (or energy) out of me, I'd collapse in a puddle on the ground. I was home after errands early, had an early lunch and a nice nap--the kind where the alarm comes as a grand intrusion when it's time to get up and go get Jacob from school. After Jordan picked up Jacob, I went back to bed for a second nap. Never did really sleep, just dozed, but I was so comfortable I had to make myself get up, feed the dogs and myself. It's a nice lazy feeling, and I'm wondering how many of you find Fridays give you that sense? I think I had some obligation every night this week, plus I was trying to write furiously and I have come to a stopping point on that--not finished but much more comfortable with where I am. So maybe that's why I'm like a deflated balloon tonight, but it's a nice feeling, and I intend to enjoy it.
My Austin kids--Megan Brandon and the two boys, Sawyer and Ford--are probably about at Hillsboro now on their way to Fort Worth, so it won't be that lazy a weekend. But I'm looking forward to it. I think life will keep getting busier between now and the holidays, so I can enjoy an evening of laziness. Hope you are too.

Sleep while you solve problems--yours and others

Mystery author Sandra Parshall (Under the Dog Star, The Heat of the Moon, and others) recently wrote about her method of working on knotty plot problems. Before she goes to sleep, she fixes her mind firmly on the problem and often wakes aware of the solution, the direction the plot should take. Well, I had recently written myself into a corner in the broken middle of my novel--I was moving along with the crime, only I didn't know who was the villain or why he or she was doing things. Major problem at 50,000 words. I've always had vivid dreams and remembered them clearly the next day, so I thought Sandy's method was a shoe-in for me. Years ago I used to dream articles and novels and short stories, but I rarely remembered them or the "perfect" way they worked in my dream. Unlike a lot of people, I don't keep a pad and paper by the bedside--I'm afraid what I write would be gibberish, and I don't want to wake up enough to turn on the light and write intelligibly.
Sandy's method was not a shoe-in at all. I tried it for two nights and woke as puzzled as ever. Then I got a stomach bug in the evening which kept me awake and in and out of bed for too much of the night. In between trips, I'd doze and found myself writing the entire end of the book, inventing characters--one really great one, sketching out scenes. Next morning, I got up, wrote it all down, and it really held together. Sleep therapy or whatever had worked. Of course, after I fed the dogs, checked my email and took a quick look at the Sunday paper, I was back in bed by 8:30.
But I was so elated by my success that I didn't write for two days. Then, yesterday, I began to write and the story came tumbling out of my brain and onto the computer. I've now written the climactic scene and simply have the wrap-up to do. Granted, it's a first draft, and I have a lot more work ahead of me, but I am so relieved to know how the story works out.
As my mother always told me, all things work to some good end. In this case, there was a plus side to having a stomach virus. Not that it's going to become my preferred way of plotting. But sleeping might be.

Book Clubs Book Buzzed and some pictures

Here's the Halloween mask I didn't wear last night--susan made it and I think it's wonderfully clever. Note the blonde hair--but I do not have a moustache.
And here's how Sophie and Jacob spend their afternoons. A love affair for sure.
Years ago my friend Jane Roberts Wood had a novel, Train to Estelline, published by a small Texas press (run by friends of mine). The book took off and landed Jane contracts for future books with big national publishers--but I've always thought the reason was that Jane spoke to every book club in the Dallas area that she could find. If  you haven't read that novel, you should. It's available from UNT Press these days and is a classic of West Texas lit.
I've been following Jane's example and spoken to or booked as many clubs and groups as I can. I've spoken to a group at TCU where I sold nine books, a neighborhood group where I sold five or six, and tonight a group in the Fairmount neighborhood, setting of Skeleton in a Dead Space, where I chatted informally with five people and sold one book. They asked if I'd come back for the second book if they promised to have more people, and I assured them I'd not only come back, I'd remind them when it came out. It's not how many books you sell at any one of these meetings--it's the people you meet and get to know. If they like you and your book, they spread the word, and the grapevine grows. Marketing at its most basic level.
One of the women tonight said to me, "I love to get so involved in a book that I can't bear for it to end," and that's something for all authors to remember: create a world in your book that makes the reader want to stay in it. That's a big reason I write cozies--people like the cozy world with its absence of overt sex and violence.
A new website called bookbuzzed launched today (http://t.co/p8HRjoKm) and I was delighted to be the inaugural featured author, thanks to an arrangement made by my wonderful publisher, Turquoise Morning Press. The site urges people to publicize by tweeting on Twitter, and my fellow TMP authors were great about tweeting and retweeting. Bookbuzzed also gives away a free book and sends questions to the author throughout the day--what are you reading now? what's your favorite book? career if you weren't writing? dream vacation? character you most relate to in  your book? These questions are important, just like the book groups above, because they give readers a sense of you as a person, hopefully someone they like. That makes them want to read  your book.
So it's been quite a good book day and I wrote 1500 words on the third novel. Moving right along and feeling good about it.