It’s like Groundhog Birthday

Thirty-five all over again!

This past weekend, I had to take my continuing ed classes to keep my MT license up-to-date. If you don’t know what MT stands for, understand that I don’t want Googling perverts to land here; you can find the answer here, and PLEASE don’t use “that word” in any comments (if you do, I’ll delete it). I’ve only just recently managed to stop the late-night phone calls from strange men. I don’t want to start being inundated by e-mails from them. THANK YOU. Be forewarned: The MT profession is about healthcare, not sex, and jokes about it make me really cranky.

Even though I no longer have a practice, it was an investment, and I’m not about to let my license lapse. Of course, I had two years to do this, and waited until the last possible minute to cram my classes into two days. Although the instructor is a personable man who does his best, anyone would have limitations when it comes to discussing Texas law for twelve hours.

After class on Saturday, all I wanted to do was sleep. So on Sunday, I went to the gym after class, which helped. Then I came home and cooked dinner, including dessert.

Bonus photo for TimStalkers:

And finally!, for my birthday, I got Little Miss Sunshine, which I LOVED!

Thank you so much for your cards, e-mails, and posts. Thirty-five is something everyone should celebrate! Again, and again, and again, and again…

Not really Hobbitses

Yesterday after Tom’s usual Saturday morning with AFH’s Stone Soup, we met the Disgruntled Liberals Club for brunch at The Hobbit Cafe, which at its former location was called The Hobbit Hole. This was my first time at the new place (“new” to me only, as it moved years ago), and the food is still excellent. The company included some of my very favorite people in the world. Only Don, our Founder, was absent. This is always the case when I have my camera. I threatened to photoshop him in to our group picture, but the best photo I have of him is in his cap and gown when he got his doctorate. Robin thought that would be appropriate, but I’m holding out. I truly believe that one day we’ll all be together at the same place at the same time when a camera is present.

Robin surprised us with this:
read more–with photos!

Keep it up, mockers

You ever just sit back, put up your feet, and enjoy watching people mock your fear of scary movies? Or maybe theirs is an act of compassion. By taking my fear to a humorous extreme, they will rob it of its energy to frighten me… Yeah, that’s it. They’re all GIVERS! Selfless, considerate, thoughtful…

I do have the best friends in the world, which will be the subject of future posts. Like the one wherein I talk about How I Got to Know My Writing Partners Online and maybe also How the Compound Works (though I’m not sure I understand that question, Steve). Or I may first discuss My Theory of Evolution or Some Random Childhood Memory for Todd.

Meanwhile, speaking of friends…

YESTERDAY’s coffee cup, in this photo that I never had the opportunity to post, is one I don’t think I’ve featured before. It was a gift from Sweet Li’l Amy Sue (who some of you may remember is the former Rex-Tender) sometime back in the early to mid-nineties. The cup was designed by and proceeds from sales were contributed to DIFFA, which is the acronym for The Design Industries Foundation Fighting AIDS. It has long been the coffee cup I reach for most often.

In the photo, you can also see the little V-card that Tom made for me and put in front of my computer monitor for me to find when I awoke. Because in this house, if you want me to see anything? The best place for it is near the computer.

Denece treated me to lunch yesterday. We met at the Galleria. There are many, many places to park at the Galleria. There are several four- or five-story garages and also several underground garages. They are located in the vicinity of different anchor stores. I usually park near Nordstrom, but yesterday I tried a different garage. With my usual ability to step out of my car and go in the exact opposite direction of the one I should take, I ended up in the bowels of the Westin Galleria. If you should ever be a guest of this hotel (as Keelie’s grandmother was in A COVENTRY CHRISTMAS), rest assured: No one gets past the security guard of what is probably the employee entrance.

Once I found my way to Denece, we had a wonderful six-hour visit at the restaurant. (We go between the lunch and dinner rush and we’re always generous with the waitstaff, who let us take a table for the entire afternoon.) Denece always gives me so many things to think about, including insights into the complexities of human relationships as well as the wonderful world of animals (I daresay no layperson knows more about every dog breed than Denece). Plus I got to tell her one of my dirty little secrets. (HA HA HA!) We also made a little trip to Borders, where I ran into the manager, J., and got to thank him personally and hug him for his attention to A COVENTRY CHRISTMAS. He said he just ordered more copies of all the TJB books because he’s building up the stock of the GLBT section. He’s the best.

I have to mop the floors now and ponder my next post, which I may title Gone With The Exorcist, my being a SAP* and all.

*Southern American Princess

Cool Stuff About Wednesday

For the third day in a row, I’ve been at the gym and in the pool by 5:30 a.m. (I love getting to and leaving the gym before daylight.) I really like Clarence, who teaches the water aerobics class. He’s a swimmer and a runner and he’s in great shape. I’d get a photo for you, but we’re not allowed to take photos inside the gym. He’s been there all the years I’ve been a member, and he leaves the gym every day and goes to his full-time job. WHERE do people get that kind of energy?

A few days ago, in the pool, I met Trish, who owns a 1926-bungalow in Montrose (but on the opposite side of Westheimer from our 1928-bungalow). Today I met Jerry, who owns a 1920-bungalow in the Heights. We bungalow people like to stick together and badmouth the McMansions and STUPID FREAKING CONDOS that are hurting the character of our neighborhoods and driving up our taxes.

Today, there was an aerobics move that Jerry just could not do. In a flash of inspiration, I gave him something to visualize and suddenly he could do it. It’s nice to be part of the whole spirit of people at the gym in the morning. Everyone is a little quiet but helpful and pleasant. These are morning people, but they aren’t perky. No one should be perky before dawn.

I came home ravenous, ate a good breakfast, did some stuff, then headed for the Galleria. I HATE SHOPPING. But I had things to do, like getting a present to send to one of our nieces. Done. Then there was some other cool stuff.
you knew there’d be photos, right?

What’ll it be?

Will Famous Author Rob Byrnes force me to wax rhapsodic about the virtues of Irish oatmeal, of which I just had my first bowl ever, compared to the plain old oatmeal I grew up eating?

I’ll be reading…

(Readers may remember that Kieran made Irish oatmeal for Phillip for their first breakfast in THREE FORTUNES IN ONE COOKIE.)

Which reminds me, Gary in KY, did you ever see that I said yes, emphatically YES, to more “Reading is HOT!” photos?

Put the Blame on Famous Author Rob Byrnes

I was reading everyone else’s witty posts and comments when it occurred to me that I’ve done nothing for days but post photos or memes or other insubstantial things (other than my regret that Molly Ivins died). I could use my work as an excuse for being a lazy LiveJournaler, but I think the responsibility actually lies with Famous Author Rob Byrnes.

FARB hasn’t blogged anything since last Sunday–a sort of unannounced hiatus–and as you may recall, when FARB takes a break, I sulk and wilt and otherwise act like a three-year-old in need of a nap. You know, the kind that gets her family kicked off of flights to Boston. (If in fact, I flew at all, much less to Boston.)

However, I think I figured out a way to draw him out if for no other reason than to chide me for a food post. I will NOT BE IGNORED, FARB!

Occasionally, Tom’s employer offers fishing trips southward on the Gulf for various employees. He always brings back a mess of fish. I’m not crazy about fish, but I eat it because it’s supposed to be good for you and it’s low in calories. Whatever.

Friday I thawed redfish from his last fishing jaunt. I looked at redfish recipes online and modified them based on ingredients I had in my kitchen. Okay, truthfully? I found one that used bacon. There’s no time that bacon is not enticing to me–and so much for that whole healthy fish thing, right?

Here are photos of the fish before it went into the oven, and photos of it on the plate, cooked, with fresh, steamed broccoli crowns, corn on the cob, and salad. That’s good eatin’.

Oh. Tom informed me it wasn’t redfish at all. It was saltwater trout. Unless you’re Hemingway, who cares? It was smothered in tasty bacon. It must have turned out okay, because the two pieces that were left over? Someone made off with them to the TimLair, and it wasn’t Rexford G. Lambert.
food photos!

Mea culpa

For all y’all who are e-mailing and calling me, I hope you read here, so you’ll know that I’m not ignoring you, and I will respond, just slowly. I love hearing from you, I truly do, and I appreciate hearing what’s going on with you (if only you all had LiveJournals!). I’m just overwhelmed right now with the writing stuff. It’ll get better.

I did take a little break on New Year’s Eve, my least favorite holiday of the year–though it’s always okay if I keep it low-key, and I did. Lynne brought Greta the Dowager Doberman, Sparky, and Minute for a slumber party with Margot and Guinness. You can’t pay for comedy like that. Greta’s got some continence issues, so she has a snazzy snap-on diaper that she wears in the house. No pictures, because she IS the dowager and deserves to hold on to some shred of dignity. Sparky’s blindness didn’t stop him from playing hard with Minute, but it also didn’t serve him well in a strange place with hazards he can’t see, like steps, bushes, brick walls, and other dogs. Margot sometimes wanted to play, but mostly she just arranged a pillow on the bed and perched on it like a princess, staying above it all. Guinness by turns wailed, barked, and passed out–which is what many of you were probably doing on New Year’s Eve, too.

After we prepared and ate a Tex-Mex feast, Tim went back to the Satellite Office to continue writing. Lynne and I got to Lindsey and Rhonda’s minutes before the year changed. Lynne played The Simpsons Clue with Lindsey, Ileya, and Adam, while another of their guests approached me with, “Did you used to work at Bookstop?” Amazingly, after all these years, I was able to recall Patrick’s name and met his cool wife, who was patient with us while we reminisced, as former Bookstop employees are wont to do. She also had the coolest black leather trench coat.

As we were leaving later, Rhonda and Lindsey offered us one of their remaining bottles of champagne, so we got to come home and share a toast to 2007 with Tim. Lynne and her canines went to bed shortly afterward, and Tim and I sat up until five a.m. talking about the things that Tim and I talk about (conversations that often get repeated by characters a year or two later).

Monday, Lynne and I hung out and talked about the things WE talk about. After we made a trip to Whole Foods, she went back to Green Acres with Greta, Sparky, and Minute. I did a dash to Shady Pines to make sure my mother got her black-eyed peas and greens on New Year’s Day. Tom got home safely from his trip to see his side of our family (and to bring more fabulous presents to me from them, including a big stack of canvases, YAY!).

And now it’s all about work, because TJB5 is due January 15 and Coventry 2 is due March 1. I’ll probably be a horrible friend for the next eight weeks.

a few photos here

New Toy at The Compound

Today, the Great New Experiment begins. It’s been, um, a long, long time since I used a crock pot, but I got one a few days ago to try out recipes from Joe Simmer (thanks, Greg). I modified one of his recipes and added some elements from another that I found online, and tonight, Tom and Tim will be the ones who endure the results when they eat the hen that I’ve already checked on TWENTY TIMES in less than an hour–leaving the lid on, however, because there are some instructions I’ll follow, though not many.

And now, I have officially become that thing FARB and millions of other people don’t want to read–someone who talks recipes and cooking on my LJ. I’d better find another hot photo of Tim in the archives…