Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

“And falling’s just another way to fly.”

November 23, 2015

Okay, it has been a while so no be careful and take precautions sermonizing. I admit it: I fell this morning. It was on my brick walkway as I was going to get the papers. I was wearing my soled slippers when all of a sudden I moved and my foot didn’t; instead, I went down. It was amazing as I could see the brick getting closer and closer then down I went. Luckily I wasn’t wearing my glasses as they are my last pair. The other pair was destroyed by a fall which occurred in the same way: I go forward, my foot stays behind. As soon as I hit the bricks, I howled in pain then rolled over to the grass. If I’m going to be in pain, it might as well be on the soft grass and not the hard bricks. I stayed there a bit until I could get myself up as only one hand was available. I made it upright, but my hand really hurt so I sort of had to cradle it with the other hand. I got back inside and made coffee, all with one hand. I then took the top off the fake sugar jar, dropped it and it broke. I didn’t curse when I fell but the broken cover elicited a barrage of blue language.

I sat down, drank my coffee and read a bit of the paper then I had to go over to my neighbor’s as on Mondays she and I go over the citizenship questions. If I have to repeat three branches of the government one more time, I will not be responsible for my actions.

The whole time I was there my hand was resting in ice as it had swollen quite a bit on one side, the one I used to try to catch myself, a ploy which didn’t work too well.

I am a two fingered typist who is now a one figured typist so this will be a short entry today. My finger is exhausted.

My left hand and wrist look disfigured. The small finger side is massively swollen, but I was lucky yet again: no broken bones. I didn’t fall gracefully but I did fall safely in some strange way.

“No decision should be made on an empty shopping bag.”

November 22, 2015

It was rain I first heard when I woke up. The drops were falling from the roof to the overhang, and their rhythmic sound lulled me right back to sleep for another hour. When I woke up the second time, the rain had stopped so I went out and got the papers and yesterday’s mail. Since then the rain has come and gone a few times. When I hear the drips, I know.

Gracie and I shopped yesterday. It was the perfect day to be around and about. We went down 6A, one of the prettiest of all routes to take. I stopped at the Brewster Book Store. It hasn’t ever disappointed me. I bought books for the grand-niece and nephews for Christmas and a few neat little things for their Christmas bags from me including head lamps, rubber duckies, small wooden trucks and a doll. I was tempted to buy myself a book, and I did look, but I have a rule about not buying myself stuff around Christmas so I dragged myself backed to the car. Our next stop was a small bakery. I bought dessert for tonight, game night, chocolate peanut butter brownies, and a lemon square for me to eat as we went along. It was so good I almost went back for another. I still wish I had. Gracie and I stopped at a couple of my favorite shops where I bought a few more small things for stockings, and that was it.

When my parents shopped for Christmas, they hid the toys in a variety of places where we seldom ventured. One was the attic. A small staircase came down so you get up in it, but the attic wasn’t finished. It was just beams from one end to the other with insulation in between. I remember one year I woke up when they were taking things down from there. It was a musical toy I heard. I was beyond Santa by then so I wasn’t shocked, but I was curious. They made a couple of trips back and forth to the living room then they turned off the hall light so I knew they were done. I sneaked downstairs to watch. I never got caught. Another hiding spot was the closet across from the cellar door. My mother kept her ironing board, iron and cleaning supplies there. I happened upon a few Christmas presents hidden there one year. I was never one to hunt for them. I preferred the surprise, but this find was serendipitous. Three of them were books for me. I sneaked and read one of them but pretended surprise when I saw them Christmas morning.

I keep all the gifts I have out in the open except for Gracie’s. She found hers on the spare room bed one year and ate all the treats. Now I hide them.

“If God had created celery, it would only have two stalks, because that’s the most that almost any recipe ever calls for.”

November 21, 2015

Today is the quintessential New England fall day. The sun is shining, the sky is a light blue, a breeze becomes a wind then a breeze again and the temperature is in the high 40’s, low 50’s. This is the sort of day when all the fathers in my neighborhood would rake then burn the leaves. Each would stand on the side of the street in front of his house rake in hand as he tendered the fire and fed it leaves. The smoke carried that wonderful smell which still means fall to me. I loved to watch the small fires and listen to the crackling sound the leaves made. I remember the smoky smell stayed on my jacket long after the fire had gone out. I miss that smell of burning leaves. It was my favorite fall ritual.

When I was growing up, my mother was an average cook or maybe I should say cooked average foods or common foods. She knew fancy meals and my father were not a good match, and we four kids would probably refuse to eat something for dinner hithertofore unknown. What is it was usually the kiss of death for any new dish. I’m not eating that said in disgust generally followed my mother’s answer. Potatoes were always mashed and so were carrots to disguise they were vegetables. I don’t know why vegetables had such a bad rap with every kid I knew. Just saying the word gave us a shutter. We knew they’d be at least one on our dinner plates, and we hoped it was a vegetable from the sanctioned list of acceptable vegetables. It was a small list. Peas topped my list and corn of any sort was on all our lists. Creamed corn, though, was not a huge favorite of mine. I always hated how it spread all over the plate and its color wasn’t all that appealing. We seldom left food on our plates because my mother was smart. She always served us stuff she knew we’d eat.

When we were older and our palates had expanded, my mother cooked all sorts of food for us. By then I had gotten over my distaste for vegetables except for beans and Brussels sprouts. Potatoes didn’t have to be mashed and carrots no longer needed a disguise. My mother, it turns out, was a fantastic cook. She had hidden her culinary talents until we were old enough to appreciate them.

I was my mother’s sous chef. It was a huge honor.

“Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice.”

November 20, 2015

The rain started last night and is just now stopping. It has left behind yet another dreary day. It is 56˚ and as warm as it will be for the whole coming week when we’ll drop to the 40’s every day. I’m inclined to stay close to hearth and home.

Watching the Macy’s parade dates back to when I was five or six. I remember sitting on the floor in front of the TV eating snacks. My mother always put out mixed nuts for us to crack and eat, tangerines and M&M’s. We had those silver crackers and matching forks to pull out the nuts. Brazil nuts were my favorites. I liked tangerines because they were so easy to peel. I just didn’t like that they had nuts. Those I’d spit into my hand then put on my plate. I never missed color. Black and white was all we knew, but the parade still had magic from the floats, the sounds of the bands and Santa arriving at the end.

When my mother baked, the windows in the kitchen fogged. At night the window water would freeze in a thin layer like on our car windshields except it was inside the house. Sometimes the window ice looked like mountains ridges, some higher than the others. The ridges, though, never went beyond the middle of the window. I used to like to scratch pictures or messages on the ice with my fingernail, but once the heat kicked in, it didn’t take long for the ice to melt.

Our first frost came the other day. When I went to get the papers, I noticed my car windshield was wet, and the part of my neighbor’s front yard filled with mulch still had its layer of frost. When I went out about an hour later, the frost was gone.

I always hated scraping my car windows. It was early in the morning, around 6:15, still very dark and cold. Now, I seldom go out all that early so the frost has usually melted. When people ask me about the best parts of being retired, I’ll have to remember to tell them about never having to scrape a window.

“Home is where we should feel secure and comfortable.”

November 19, 2015

In The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe it is, in the beginning, perpetually winter. We are in a similar state, less extreme but still perpetual. Every day is cloudy. The daytime temperature is always in the 50’s. When the days are windy, the trees lose more and more brown, crumpled leaves and become even barer. We’ve had our first frost. The few flowers which still brightened my garden are gone. Overnight the bird bath water acquired a thin layer of ice which slivered when I broken it with my hand. I, however, have stopped whining about the weather because whining seems to make it worse. I’ve adopted a ho-hum philosophy instead.

This morning has been productive. My bed is already made and the first wash is done. It happens that way. All of a sudden I get a blast of energy, and I do stuff around the house. I keep eyeing my low cabinet in the kitchen, but it would take more than a blast to get me to organize it. It would take a miracle. I know miracles happen because I finally organized my closet a while back. I’m thinking maybe it is better to start small. The cabinet under the bathroom sink would be a great first endeavor. I think I’ll give that one a try.

I love my house and did from the first moment I walked in the door. This was, of course, before HGTV so words like open concept, window treatment, bonus room and en suite master did not exist in the common vocabulary. I wanted lots of wood, a downstairs bedroom/den and a dining room. This house has them all. The floors are wide pine planks, now faded and scratched in the same way floors in historic houses are. The downstairs bedroom is the den I wanted so the TV didn’t have to be in the living room. I have a wonderful dining room. It is painted nutmeg, my favorite of all the colors in the house. It is open to the kitchen. The archway between the rooms is outlined in pine. The fireplace is on the left side of the large wall in the living room because the builder didn’t want to have two small corners. My yard is huge or rather Gracie’s yard is huge. I really love this house.

There are only two things I would add. The first is a screened front porch. That’s where you get to greet the neighbors. The second is a pantry. Everything I need would be right there, and I wouldn’t have to move stuff to find what I want. The cabinet I avoid scares me a bit. Moving one thing means several others will fall. I could be buried and not found for days. In a pantry order is easy.

I really have no intention of ever living somewhere else. I’m quite content with my back deck and my totally disorganized cabinet.

“November always seemed to me the Norway of the year.”

November 17, 2015

I seem to be apologizing every day for the lateness of the hour. This morning I awoke close to lunch time. It was just one of those nights, fitful and restless. I’m sure Gracie was annoyed by my moving around. Her head was on the other pillow when I woke up which, I suspect, minimized her discomfit from my moving all around. Fern was lying right beside my legs. I do remember her meowing at me during the night as I wasn’t sleeping deeply. I also remember ignoring her.

The hunt for Gracie’s Christmas digs continues. I am not having a whole lot of success. One kennel told me to call back today. I’m hoping they have space. (SUCCESS!!!!!!-Gracie will be staying at that kennel!!!!)

Duke, the boxer of my childhood, was the most stubborn of dogs. Usually he came on vacation with us, but I remember one time my grandparents took care of him while we were away. I’m sure Duke wasn’t all that thrilled as they weren’t animal people; in fact, they weren’t people people either (I know this wording sounds odd, but I tried several different versions, and this one despite the repetitive words was the best). Anyway, they’d let Duke outside, no leash laws back then, and he’d take off and go home. My grandfather had to fetch him several times which made my grandfather annoyed which eventually morphed into angry. When we went to pick Duke up, my grandfather told my Dad never again would he dog sit. I think Duke was relieved.

Every day is colder now. It gets dark far too early. The trees look naked without their leaves, and I can again see my neighbor’s houses through the branches of the trees. The sun slants a different way than in summer. I’ve added socks do my daily ensemble. There’s no denying it now. The season has irrevocably changed.

 

“My dog is worried about the economy because Alpo is up to $3.00 a can. That’s almost $21.00 in dog money.”

November 16, 2015

Oh the morning I’ve had! Gracie and I went to the vets as she has been licking one spot and is also dripping drool (not a pretty sight) from one side of her mouth. The licking was because she has a diaper rash or what would be a diaper rash if she were a baby. It is in the same area a baby’s rash would be. The vet told me to baby wipe her rash and then use Gold Pond powder. As for the drool, she has this little hanging thing down from her gums. It isn’t uncommon. She also has really bad teeth, but I already knew that and have tried to clean them unsuccessfully. The vet recommended surgery to clean her teeth and get rid of the hangy thing. The problem is she has an irregular heart beat so surgery could be a problem. I had to make an appointment at the cardiologist’s office for Gracie to be evaluated. The vet complimented me when he said Gracie looks great. Her fur is shiny and she has held her weight.

My brother-in-law said he and my sister would like to fly me to Colorado for Christmas, and I would love to go, but Gracie presents a problem. I have been calling kennels all over the cape looking for a spot for her over Christmas but have not been successful as it is so late and all the places are booked except one, but Gracie doesn’t like other dogs so she can’t be in the general population where there is space. She needs solitary confinement. I have connected with friends hoping they had friends who might like to stay here while I’m gone. Prospects are looking grim.

Today is a perfect fall day. It is sweatshirt weather, warm and sunny. The air is still. The shower of pine needles has stopped for now. The sunlight is different this time of year. Every day as it moves it seems to touch different places than it did even as close the day before.

I have to fill the feeders and clean the bird bath as the poor birds were disappointed this morning. Even the woodpecker was checking for seeds. Luckily I have suet.

Gracie is asleep on the couch and she’s snoring. It has been a busy morning for her and for me too as I also had to stop at the store for baby wipes.

I see a nap for me coming on in the near future

“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language And next year’s words await another voice.”

November 15, 2015

Ditto on yesterday morning’s weather, but it’s a bit colder than it was. TV was so bad last night I don’t even remember what I watched. Mostly it was just background noise so I managed to go through and toss away several catalogues and magazines. I even found a couple of gifts for people and a couple of recipes for me.

Yesterday my sister and I were talking and all of a sudden my mother entered the conversation, sort of. I mentioned someone I knew had a tough row to hoe. My mother used to say that, and it sort of just flew unbidden out of my mouth as I haven’t heard it in years. I didn’t understand it when I was really little and later I couldn’t figure out how a farm metaphor became part of my mother’s lexicon. Both my parents had favorite sayings. My dad called someone a good egg, and that was a high compliment indeed. I always understood it, but in Ghana I found out exactly what it meant. When aunties (women sellers) came to my house with eggs to sell, I bought only those eggs which fell to the bottom of my bucket of water. They were the good eggs. Dressed to the nines always threw me, but I finally figured out from the conversation what my mother meant. I did wonder why dressed to the nines, not the tens or the fives. I didn’t find what that one meant until not that long ago. It seems the very best suits used a full nine yards of fabric. The kiss of death was one of my mother’s. I thought it meant Judas at the Last Supper, but the Mafia co-opted it to mean giving a kiss to someone marked for death prior to his execution.

I suspect there are many expressions my grandparents used which may still be around though their meanings have probably disappeared. Some of ours will have the same fate. I doubt my grandnephew will know why we tell him to roll down the window or hang up the phone. I wonder if he knows clockwise. His watch has no hands.

Right now I’m going to turn on the TV.

“CONTROL MYSELF?!! I’m a MONSTER! Monsters don’t control themselves! That’s the whole IDEA!”

November 14, 2015

The morning was gloomy with a whitish grey sky and a strong breeze. The sun has just appeared and the sky is clearing as I can see some blue. Pine needles continue to fall on the side of my front lawn under that big pine tree. My backyard is filled with pine and oak trees, but that’s Gracie’s area and only branches are cleared from it. I always know where she is even in the dark as I can hear the crunching sound as she walks on the bed of leaves and pine needles. It is chilly today.

I miss Creature Feature. When I was a kid, two old black and white science fiction movies were on every Saturday. I watched almost every week and got to know the creatures well. Strangely enough I never thought about how many of those creatures had no names. They were just pronouns like Them and It or indeterminate nouns like Thing, the beast or the monster. Some had addresses like The Creature from the Black Lagoon, The Man from Planet X or The Devil Girl from Mars. We had the ants, spiders, giant tarantulas, robots, Mole Men, a deadly mantis and one of my favorites, The Monolith Monsters. The Fly I’ll put in another category as it was half human. Who can forget, “Help me! Help me?” Women were either creatures, dainty scientists, reporters or just fluff.

In the Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, my favorite science fiction woman had a name, Nancy. She became 50 feet tall thanks to an alien. She was driving in the desert and had been drinking, a favorite pastime, when she runs into a giant alien hand. She manages to escape his grasp but no one believes her, the drunk. Later she and her husband go to the desert to find this alien, and they do. Harry, her husband, runs away ( finally a man who runs away) and she is left there. Later they find her on the roof of her pool house. She is delirious so the doctor gives her a sedative. The husband, who plans to kill her, later goes to her room and sees she has become a giant. He and the doctor decide to keep her sedated and in chains, but she wakes up and gets free (she has or the movie ends there). Meanwhile her lowlife philandering husband is at a bar with his latest girlfriend, honey. His giant wife wearing a bikini made from sheets goes looking for him. She finds him with Honey who didn’t know you never make a 50 foot woman mad. Nancy, now known as the giant, drops a beam from the roof on Honey who is killed. Harry starts shooting but his wife, the giant, just picks him up in her hand and walks away. Later our favorite giant is killed by the sheriff who blows up a power line transformer which kills poor Nancy. They find her dead husband in her hand. That’s what he gets!

“You know, sloth is a sin,” he says softly. “I prefer to think of it as an adorable animal.”

November 13, 2015

Okay, I know this is really later than usual, but I slept far later than usual. I had one of those I am not tired nights and was up until after 3 so I didn’t wake up until 10:30 then I had to perform my morning rituals: making the coffee, getting and reading the two papers, feeding the animals, reading my e-mail and going through yesterday’s mail. Finally I’m ready, with coffee in hand, to begin writing.

The day is sunny but quite breezy. Pine needles are dropping from the big tree in the front. They look like the start of a snow storm without much punch, one where the biggest flakes fall but only for a while. A few needles landed on me when I went by to get the papers. On the way back it took me a while as I was watching the mini-tornado of leaves whirling down the street. Magic came to mind. I could see Mickey in his magician’s hat and robe moving the wand in a circle to make the leaves dance. I stayed and watched until they whirled their last then fell to the ground.

The week thus far has been busy with something each day, but today I am a sloth. I haven’t anywhere I need to go or anything I need to do. My back will enjoy the day of leisure as it, of late, has been vehemently complaining about the loads of laundry I did on Wednesday then carried up two flights of stairs and the shopping and cooking I did yesterday. My friends came over for a birthday dinner and to open their gifts. I had a list of things I needed to buy. One of them was a yellow pepper or so I thought. When I got home, I saw the recipe called for an orange pepper. I know there is no difference except in color, but I can’t figure how I read one and wrote the other, but the color didn’t really matter. Dinner, Mexican chicken stew, was still delicious.

On my table is a mile high (slight exaggeration) pile of catalogues. I have thrown many away, but the ones in the pile have been saved as possible fodder for Christmas shopping. I will do the shopping from the comfort of my couch then I’ll take a nap. Shopping can be exhausting.