Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

“Half the fun of the travel is the esthetic of lostness. “

January 15, 2016

It is warmer today than it has been. I didn’t gasp from the cold when I went to get the papers. It is around 40˚  and will even be a bit warmer tomorrow; however, the cold will be back with a vengeance on Tuesday so these warm days are a bit of a gift from fickle Mother Nature. Gracie and I have a few things to do today so I’m glad for the winter warmth.

My heat is forced hot air. I hear the blast when the furnace goes on. When I was growing up, we had forced hot water. I used to love the sound of the radiators. It was comforting in a way. A few years ago I lost electricity because of a winter storm. My house was 37˚ before the heat came back on. I don’t ever remember losing electricity in the winter when I was a kid. I remember we lost it during a hurricane when a tree fell on the wires, but that was in late summer. I never felt inconvenienced. I doubt kids do. Most things become an adventure of sorts. Having to use candles for light and the barbecue for cooking was a kind of camping, but at home with comfy beds and no mosquitos. I thought it was great fun.

I still love adventures. Around here I go for rides down roads I’ve never been on before. I take all lefts or all rights and am always surprised by what I see. I went to Morocco on my own, and that was an adventure. I did all right turns in the souk one day. I loved everything I saw and found. At one point I had no idea where I was, but I didn’t care. I knew I’d eventually find my way. I just had to choose a direction.

I love my life, but sometimes I wish I had more money to travel. I want adventures in places I’ve never been before. I want to get lost.

 

“You bloody old towser-faced boot-faced totem-pole on a crap reservation.”

January 14, 2016

Yesterday I got the newspapers from the front yard, and all my plans for the day changed. It was so cold I decided to stay home. I had a wonderfully cozy day and an early nap. Today is a bit warmer so I’ll venture out bundled only a bit. I got a new vest for Christmas and it is just perfect for today.

I would like to do bodily harm to Peter Pan from the Geico ad. Considering the reactions of Phil and Diane they feel the same way. Joanne looking 70 wasn’t all that far off as it is the Class of 65 and most are probably 68 anyway. No, it was the look on Peter’s face that made the comment so officious. I would love to have smacked him right then or, even better, watch Phil wind up and hit him in defense of the lady. I did chuckle at You Make Me Feel So Young. The song was a brilliant choice.

Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me. I was always struck by that one. I thought name calling really did hurt, mostly inside where nobody would know. It was in school at recess where the boys were the worst and the most heartless. They didn’t target me too much, but they did a few friends of mine. One of my friends cried, the worst thing of all to do. I explained to her that you yell that useless saying back as if you believed it. Better yet, get a crowd to say it with you. Numbers have power. The other option, the one I used once, was to punch the ring leader in the face. That put a quick stop to name calling and I was sent to the office, not at all repentant.

 

“You’ve got bad eating habits if you use a grocery cart in 7-Eleven.”

January 12, 2016

We have a light snow shower which I doubt will amount to much. The flakes are tiny and susceptible to the wind. They keep changing direction. I’m staying close to hearth and home today. It’s dark and cold outside, unwelcoming.

I could do a wash, but I won’t. I could change the sheets on my bed, but I won’t do that either. According to Martha Stewart I could make my own pretzels sprinkled with my favorite toppings, but I’ll never do that. As you can tell I have no ambition today, and I’m just fine with that.

When I was a kid, it was difficult to find a place where I could be alone. The house always seemed filled with people. It was small, and there were six of us. I shared a bedroom so I couldn’t kick my sister out if she wanted in. Sometimes I’d go down the cellar and sit and read. The cellar was below ground and had those small windows high up on the walls. When the sun shined through them, I could see dust in the light. I didn’t care. I was a kid. Dust has no meaning to a kid.

In my mind’s eye, I can see that whole house. The kitchen was small. One side had the sink, the counter and the fridge. The other side had the stove and the kitchen table. The fridge saw the most action. We’d all open it and stand there looking. I always had the hope they’d be something delicious, but delicious disappeared really fast in my house. My mother always yelled for me to close the fridge,”Get what you want then close it!” I didn’t know what I wanted. It was usually an exploratory hunt.

My parents grocery shopped on Friday evenings. My dad had to take my mother as she didn’t drive. They’d carry the filled brown grocery bags into the house, and we’d empty them not as a help, but to find the Oreos, the go to cookie in our house. There were always Oreos but not for long.

“The sixties were when hallucinogenic drugs were really, really big. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we had the type of shows we had then, like The Flying Nun.”

January 11, 2016

This morning I was at my neighbor’s at ten then came home and went back to bed; hence, the late hour. I am just tired though I haven’t really a good reason to be.

It finally stopped raining last night, but the warmish air has deserted us. It is seasonably in the 30’s today. I guess I ought not to be complaining but I figure that’s what the weather is for. It is a common topic of conversation and great for the line at the supermarket.

My aunt was a nun. We always called her my aunt the nun and seldom used her name. When I was little, we’d put on our church clothes and ride to Connecticut to see her. We used to stop close to her convent, go to the bathroom and be tidied by my mother so we’d pass a visual inspection. This aunt was not real to me in the same way my other aunts were real. She wore a habit and didn’t have a whole lot to say to us. It was always questions about school. We answered in short, quick sentences hoping she’d move on to my parents. Meanwhile another nun would show up with a tray. It had cookies, milk, coffee and a few soft drinks. The nun would put it on the table and then leave without saying a word, but she did make a swishing sound the way all nuns did. After our snack, we’d go on a tour of my aunt’s school. I never thought it was interesting but it did eat up some time for which I was grateful. We’d head back to the convent and start our good-byes until the next year.

In time nuns were freed from their habits, were allowed to use their own names and could travel anywhere they chose, but my aunt the nun was still my aunt the nun to us. She started to wear skirts and blouses and jackets and always a big cross she used to wear on her habit. All those years of not having to choose her outfits left her with a really bad taste in clothes. My mother and I used to give her clothes for Christmas, clothes with a bit of style. She began to spend every Christmas at my parents’ house. My mother was a trooper about it, but she drove my father crazy by calling him brother instead of his name.

I was always polite when my aunt the nun stayed at my parents, but she never seemed to like me all that much. It was no big bother to me. I could live with that!

“I cannot pretend to feel impartial about colors. I rejoice with the brilliant ones and am genuinely sorry for the poor browns.”

January 10, 2016

It’s raining. It’s pouring. The old man is snoring.

I don’t know when the rain started, but it is now a heavy rain and a strong wind. Outside is so dark my deck lights came on. The timer was duped.

I have written the start of several second paragraphs but have deleted each of them. Usually I have an idea which spreads across time and conjures memories. This morning I have nothing.

Sunday has never been a productive day. It was always church and family dinner day and some Sundays there was a visit to my grandparents. Nobody did lawn work, always reserved for a Saturday, and my mother didn’t vacuum or dust. She made dinner. Usually we stayed around the house. I’d read the Sunday funnies. The TV would be on a Sunday Matinee movie or a football game. I remember my brother watching and sitting close to the TV set, his legs bent and splayed behind him. I never found that comfortable.

The papers are so much bigger on Sunday. It is a three cup minimum to finish both papers. The Globe crossword takes the whole day as I fill in a bit then do something else then go back to it. I hate the crosswords where the longest answer is a quote and other answers finish the quote. Usually I start with the smallest part of the quote and work up hoping the answers will be hints. The capital of Ghana is often a crossword clue.

In the winter, I crave color. Often I buy myself a bouquet of flowers to remind me of spring and to brighten the darkness. The worst of winter is still ahead of me. January and February are usually snowy months. I’ll just have to be patient, never a strong suit of mine.

“Our major obligation is not to mistake slogans for solutions.”

January 9, 2016

Today is cloudy and damp. Tomorrow the rain will come, heavy rain accompanied by a strong wind according to the forecast, but by the looks of the sky, I think it may rain this afternoon or evening.

I have house stuff to do today: plants to water, bills to pay, litter to change and feeders to fill. I have no intention of going anywhere. Today is a stay warm and cozy sort of day.

The Cape Times used to publish court news from both the Orleans and the Barnstable courts. I always knew someone, usually a former student. Now the paper just has news items in a section called The Log. Today a few crimes caught my attention. One item recounted the arrest of a man who cut the security wires from the jewelry display case at Kmart then wheeled the case to his car. He was caught because of the surveillance video. If you watch any TV, you know there are video cameras everywhere so the police knew who did it and what he was driving. His car was seen and stopped and the thief was wearing the same clothes as in the video. His watch cap had the word SELFIE across the front. The backseat was loaded with jewelry still sporting Kmart tags. According to the police, this thief has 78 arraignments on his adult record mostly for breaking and entering, larceny, shoplifting and narcotics.

The other crime was multiple assaults. The man was described as having a long criminal record and is now charged with assault and battery on a police officer and two counts of assault and battery. When the police went to arrest him, they said he smelled of alcohol and his speech was slurred. During booking he became belligerent, punched the door cell and yelled obscenities. In his cell, he flooded the floor with water and put toilet paper in the water to make the floor slippery. Two police equipped with riot shields warned him they’d use a stun gun unless he stopped. They entered the cell and he began striking the officers who threw him down on a bench. He continued to fight until the stun gun was used. Now this guy has used 10 aliases in the past and has 132 arraignments on charges which include violence.

Usually I’m fairly happy with my world. I’ve always been a half full sort. I look for the good and hang on to it. I know the bad is there, but I refuse to fall prey to pessimism. I try not to let the bad things color my world. These two articles threw me a bit with the 78 and 132 arraignments. Things need to change, but I don’t have an answer, only questions.

Stuck between the two reports was an article that the season’s first right whales have been seen in the bay. About half of the North Atlantic population of 526 right whales will winter here. They come here to eat zooplankton. Right whales are rare and endangered and to have that many so close is amazing. This is the good news.

“In the kitchen Valeria was making breakfast, his aunt never made breakfast even though Carlo insisted for years that a hotel hoping to cater to French and Americans must offer breakfast. “It’s a lazy man’s meal.”, she always said. “What laggard expects to eat before doing any work?”

January 8, 2016

Today is a pleasant winter’s day. The sun is shining, the breeze is slight and it’s warm, winter warm anyway. I slept until after 11. Ever since Colorado, I’ve tended to sleep late, but it’s purely coincidental. I’m just sleeping late. As my mother would say, “You must need it.”

Gracie and I were out yesterday and got four errands done. We’re good for a while now.

January was always a nothing month when I was a kid. We went back to school and were stuck there with no days off until February vacation.That was like five or six weeks away. After school we were mostly stuck inside unless there was some snow for sledding or a warm afternoon for biking. I remember the boredom, the walking around sighing when there was nothing to do. I couldn’t go out. It was too cold. I didn’t have a new book, playing games was boring and TV was sparse in the early afternoons. Stretched in front of me were endless hours or what seemed like endless hours until Superman. I’m sure I must have driven my mother crazy. Usually I’d decide to read a book I hadn’t read in a while. I’d drown out every sound and be drawn into the pages. I’d forget about time. Superman surprised me. He seemed to come so soon.

My mother never made soups. She served Campbell’s. My favorite was her tomato soup as she added milk or cream instead of water. It was a thick, tasty soup perfect for dunking grilled cheese sandwiches. The two always went together. They were lunch supreme when it was cold outside.

My mother served oatmeal or eggs for breakfast in the winter. I liked the oatmeal but mostly I liked the milk and the sugar I’d put on it. My mother served the oats cooked on the stove which were never as white as the milk and were sometimes lumpy. It didn’t matter. I liked oatmeal because it was hot. The eggs were usually soft boiled and served in egg cups. My mother cut the toast into strips and put them on the plate with the egg cup and the egg. The top of the egg was open and we’d dunk the toaster strips into the yoke. That was a great breakfast.

Winter had the best breakfasts, always hot so we could face the elements. The rest of the year was usually cereal from the box, a pale version of breakfast, except on Sundays when we’d have bacon and eggs and toast, breakfast supreme.

“The only thing that will make a souffle fall is if it knows you’re afraid of it.”

January 7, 2016

Today is warmer than it has been which is good as I have a few errands to do. The cats need dry food, and I need bread, life’s essentials for the cats and me. I did vacuum and dust a bit yesterday so I have a small sense of accomplishment.

I didn’t even know how to work the washing machine my freshman year in college. The bell went off once, and the machine wouldn’t work no matter what buttons I pushed. The idea of an uneven load never entered my head. I didn’t even know the load could be uneven, unbalanced. I ended up pulling out the clothes and wringing them by hand before putting them into the dryer. When I mentioned the bell to my mother, she explained about redistributing the clothes in the drum. I was thinking we should have had a laundry lesson before I left.

My junior year in college I had an apartment. My roommate and I had been classmates starting in the first grade and all the way through except for the year on the Cape. She had always worked to put herself through school. She was one of those waitresses who could heft full trays. Her right arm had more muscles than her left. She could cook anything, and I was amazed. I could cook things like eggs, hot dogs or hamburgers, but that was it. She even made meatloaf and gravy, onion gravy. I was more than happy to do the dishes if she cooked.

I was mostly inept when it came to household stuff. I never did laundry, never cooked and didn’t even have to make my bed. My mother did it all. That made apartment living an adventure. Learning to clean was easy. Learning to cook took a bit more time, but I got good at it.

Being in Africa was a test of sorts. I had to survive without machines or devices including an oven and a washing machine and dryer. My wringing skills came to bear on wash day, all done by hand. I ate mostly chicken with a sauce. The meal was cooked over a charcoal fire and the sauce was usually made from tomatoes and onions, the two most plentiful veggies. I did a little frying as well. I was spreading my culinary wings.

Nothing fazed me after Africa. I conquered the wash and kitchen duties and could cook just about anything. I was never to be afraid to try. That was the best part of it all. I had some failures, the bagels come to mind, but the successes were delicious, still are.

“I sadly want a reform in the construction of children. Nature’s only idea seems to be to make them machines for the production of incessant noise.”

January 5, 2016

I seem to be hibernating. Today I woke up at quarter to twelve and have just now finished my morning coffee and papers. I even had an English muffin, the one with nooks and crannies. During the night we got a dusting of snow. When I went to get the papers, I wanted to hurry because it was so cold, but I figured I’d slip and fall on the snow covered walk so I took my time and froze just a little. I am going nowhere today. I’m going to vacuum and that’s it for industry although I did dust a couple of spots using the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I have a book calling out my name so I’ll get comfy and read the day away.

My house is quiet. I can only hear Gracie’s deep breathing. She’s sleeping at the other end of the couch. The cats are also asleep but they sleep quietly. When I was growing up, I think the house was never quiet except deep into the night when we were all finally asleep. The TV was always on, and at least one of us was sitting in front watching. We sometimes argued about what to watch but not often. The choices back then were limited. My sisters played together, and their dolls talked to one another in weird little voices. By late afternoon my mother was in the kitchen getting dinner ready. I could hear pots and pans clanging, water running and the fridge and oven doors opening and shutting. By then Superman and the Mickey Mouse Club were on TV and we all sat and watched. Dinner was quick and noisy. The four of us sat at the table while my mother stood at the counter.  She always did that. My father was seldom home in time for dinner. After we had eaten, it was back to the TV for a bit then it was time to get washed up and put on our pajamas. My sisters went to bed first. My brother and I were older and had a later bedtime. I used to sneak and read under the covers as long as I could before I’d get caught. My mother knew I did that and was on alert. She’d yell up the stairs to tell me to turn off the light and go to sleep. The house by then was almost quiet. I could hear my parents’ voices from downstairs but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. I don’t think I really cared. Finally I’d fall and stay asleep until my mother woke me up the next morning, and we’d start it all over again, including the noise.

“January brings the snow, makes our feet and fingers glow.”

January 4, 2016

I saw a few snowflakes this morning. At first I wasn’t sure so I kept watching. I saw a few more, not many yet, but it is definitely snow. I checked the local forecast. The prediction is 2 to 4 inches by late afternoon. The sky has that snow look, a light grey almost white, so I’m believing the forecast.

Some things never go away. I love watching snow fall. When I was a kid, I’d sit at the picture window, my elbows resting on the sill and watch the snow falling under the street light. Behind the light was darkness. The falling snow obscured even the neighbors’ houses. The road and the walkways disappeared. Everything looked the same. It was all snow.

I still watch the snow and keep track of how much has fallen. I turn on the outside lights in the back so I can get a close-up view, but it’s different now. Long ago, when I saw snow out the picture window, I had dreams of flying down the hill on my sled. Over and over I’d fly until I could no longer pull the icy rope of my sled for even one more run. I’d be cold, exhausted and exhilarated.

Snow is not for flying when you’re older. Snow becomes an inconvenience. The car needs to be shoveled out, the same with the mail box and the walkway to the car. I don’t do any of it. I just wait for it to be done. I used to do it, but I was much younger then.

I’m going to watch the snow. I still love watching the flakes, and I think newly fallen snow is pretty. It equalizes everything.