Archive for the ‘Musings’ category
March 6, 2016
The day is getting lighter as the sun struggles to appear. It is in the high 30’s but the rest of the week will be in the 40’s and one day may hit 50˚. I think the forecast is worthy of song, “We’re having a heat wave, a tropical heat wave.”
Some things just drive me crazy. Men wearing baseball caps inside is one of them. It is old school, I know, to expect men to take their hats off in a restaurant, but I do. Some people, mostly of the male variety, shovel their food into their mouths. They hold their forks like a piece of equipment, like that shovel I mentioned. Little kids doing it I understand as they’re still in process, but I don’t understand adult shovelers. Pocketbooks on the table at restaurants drive me crazy. Texting has its place but not while we’re eating. How about some table talk, some conversation? Catch up with one another. Mumbling doesn’t count. One of my former relatives ate with her mouth open. I could never sit across from her. She obviously didn’t have the constant reminder, “Chew with your mouth closed,”the way we did. My mother was big into manners.
I admit we did some things just to drive one or both of our parents crazy. Shuffling our feet as we walked was one of them. My father inevitably yelled, “Pick up your feet.” We did literally and that made it even worse. Tapping a fork on the table was more than my mother could handle. She’d come right over and take the fork out of the offender’s hand. I admit I am a tapper, but I have never intended malice. It just happens when I’m engrossed in something like figuring out a crossword puzzle word. “Stop tapping!” from my mother would pull me from my reverie.
I live alone and even drive myself crazy at times. That’s the worst.
Categories: Musings, Uncategorized
Tags: 36˚, baseball caps, chewing with open mputh, forks, manners, shoveling, sun appearing, tapper, texting, warmer week
Comments: 15 Comments
March 5, 2016
I want to yell out my window, “I’m mad as hell, and I won’t take it anymore,” but I’d probably freeze myself and the house in the process. March winds blow cold. The sun is a background ornament, bright but useless. Warm weather is supposed to be arriving next week. I hope so as I truly need one deck day to rid myself of winter malaise.
When I was a kid, I never minded winter weather except when it rained. I hated winter rain. I swear my wet clothes used to freeze on the walk home. My jacket stiffened from the ice. My wool mittens got wet and useless. My fingers were red from the cold. Water bubbled from my shoes when I walked. My hair hung down on my face and sometimes dripped onto my neck and down the back of my jacket. Winter rain is relentless.
Summer rain was a gift. It cooled a hot day. Steam would rise from the sidewalks. We’d stay outside and get soaked knowing when the sun reappeared, it would dry our clothes. I’d splash puddles and watch the water fan. We floated paper boats down the rivers streaming in the gutters next to the sidewalks. I’d ride my bike and head for every puddle. I remember taking my feet off the pedals and letting my bike glide through the water. I don’t remember my mother dragging us in when there was thunder and lightning, but I guess she must have. Either that or we were just plain lucky.
Today is chore day. My laundry bag is spilling over. The clean sheets have sat on the chest at the foot of my bed for three days. It’s about time I got to them. The plants need watering. The kitchen needs to be swept. I know as I do one chore two more will pop up. Just now I noticed the wire connecting the computer to electricity was dirty at the top, close to the computer. I stopped writing, went to the kitchen, got a Clorox sheet and cleaned the wire. It is going to be one of those days. I blame it all on winter. Ennui is the perfect description for my mood today.
Categories: Musings
Tags: chores day, cold, ennui, frozen clothes, gutter water, I'm mad as hell, and I won't take it anymore, paper boats, puddles, smoking sidewalks, splashing, summer rain, useless sun, washing clothes, winter rain
Comments: 14 Comments
March 4, 2016
The snow is already covering the tops of branches. The roads are wet, and I think they’ll probably freeze when the temperature goes down this afternoon. Gracie and I finished four errands, and I couldn’t wait to get home. It’s cold.
The dump was fairly empty. Smarter people than I stayed home cozy and warm. I was the only one in the hardware store which does make sense. I guess whatever you need in a hardware store isn’t always immediate during a snow storm. The cat food stop was a necessity. Agway didn’t have many people either. My last stop was to buy lunch. I bought chicken noodle soup, the ultimate comfort food. Rita, the magician of soups, uses egg noodles, huge cuts of carrots and lots of chicken. I even bought two.
On days like today my mother often packed soup for our lunches. She’d fill the thermos bottles and make sure we had plenty of Saltines. Most times the soup was either tomato or chicken noodle. I liked eating from my thermos. I’d slowly and carefully pour the soup into the cover trying not to splash then I’d put the stopper back to keep the rest of the soup hot. I’d crumple the crackers into the soup. They sucked up all the liquid but that’s how I liked it. My mother also packed desserts, usually cookies. I was never big on fruit for lunchbox dessert. I always thought fruit was a snack. Dessert needed sugar and maybe chocolate.
We’ll only get a couple of inches of wet snow. I keep looking out the window watching it fall. The flakes change direction. Now they are from the north. A while back they seemed to come straight down. Because there is no wind, the flakes aren’t frantic. They fall slowly, individually.
All the bird feeders are filled, and I threw some on the ground under the deck. There were a few goldfinches still clad in winter drab dining al fresco this morning.
I feel a nap coming on!
Categories: Musings
Tags: chicken noodle soup, Chocolate, cold, comfort foods, crackers, dessert, dump, errands, fruit, hardware store, Snow, soup, thermos bottles, tomato soup.
Comments: 25 Comments
March 3, 2016
This has been the busiest of mornings. The periodontist said all is well so I thought I’d treat myself by taking the long way home and stopping at a few places. I noticed the thrift store was open so I stopped to shop. It, like most other thrift shops, always has older women tending the register and wrapping the items. I found a few things I had been looking for to use for Easter. The three things cost a total of $3.25. I stayed a while in the parking lot to listen to Romney’s speech and was glad I had. Give it to him, Mitt! Next stop was the candy store for a couple of Easter basket items then the Italian store for cheese. It was a fun morning.
Today is cold, 32˚ cold. Tomorrow we’re due to have 2-4 inches of snow. I think I saw spring as it was getting on a bus to Florida. Hard to tell, though, as spring had her face covered so as not to be recognized. My dad, of course, would always tell us spring snow is poor man’s fertilizer.
When I was a kid, I didn’t know what the weather would be one day to the next this time of year. It was as if Mother Nature had multiple personalities. A warm day in the morning could be freezing cold by afternoon. Sun easily turned to dark skies filled with clouds. Snow was always welcome, but I was a kid. What did I know?
I jut spent an hour with my neighbor helping him with forms for his two kids so they can get regular passports. Both are now over 18 and need to apply for their own passports as the other was because their father is a citizen.
I saw a daffodil bud in my front garden. I was so excited this morning you’d think I’d found a treasure chest filled with gold, but then again with snow coming and spring so far delayed, maybe I did!
Categories: Musings
Tags: candy shop, cheese shop, citizenship, Florida, freezing cold, Shopping, Snow, thrift store
Comments: 13 Comments
March 1, 2016
When I woke up this morning, my first thought was I get to vote. I never miss voting even for local elections. I voted when I was in the Peace Corps, but I got my ballot too late for it to count. It was sent by regular mail which took several weeks to arrive. They could have used air mail but they didn’t. I sent my ballot back with a note explaining where Ghana was and why I was irritated. I never got an answer.
I voted for the very first time in 1968. I voted for Hubert Humphrey, not Richard Nixon. In 1972 I voted for George McGovern, not Richard Nixon. I always add the not Richard Nixon because it is a point of personal pride. As a joke, my sister gave me a Nixon button, a huge one. It says Nixon’s the One on the top and Vote Nixon on the bottom. His face is in the middle with a giant smile that looks a bit sleazy to me, but that may be hindsight. I’ve heard people say have nothing in your house for which you would be ashamed should you die unexpectedly. That would be my Nixon button. It is horrifying to think someone might believe I wore it and even worse that I voted for him.
Today is a sunny day filled with light without heat. I’m getting tired of the cold. I’d be happy with one really warm day, a long sleeve shirt day. That’d hold me until spring.
Birds are all over my feeders. They wait in lines like planes do before they can taxi and take off. I forgot the suet so I’ll fill those feeders later.
I remember watching Chet and David on the black and white TV when they covered the presidential election of 1960, a nail biter, and exciting sit on the edge of your seat election. Everything pertaining to states and numbers was done by hand. People erased tallies and entered new tallies. Calling a state for one candidate or the other didn’t happen with only 16% of the vote counted the way it is now. Back then you had to be patient. I think that’s a good thing. In the Nixon-Kennedy election Nixon didn’t concede until November 9th, the day after the election.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 1960 election, 1968 election, hand writing the votes on the totboard, Humphrey, McGovern, Nixon, Nixon-Kennedy, primary election, vote!
Comments: 27 Comments
February 29, 2016
Today is so windy that everything is blowing. I hear the chimes, and I can see the tops of the pine tree trunks bending and swaying. I filled the bird feeders earlier and it was chilly, all because of that wind.
It is just one of those days. I couldn’t get into my computer because I kept giving it the wrong password. I didn’t even remember what my hint meant so I had to go through the rigmarole of resetting the password. I walked into the kitchen to get another cup of coffee and ended up on the deck filling bird feeders. I never did get that coffee. I’m thinking I’ll use sticky notes to describe my task and where I’m going. We’re talking in the house, not on the road.
Last night I watched the Oscars. I expected to be bored, but I wasn’t. I actually enjoyed most of it. I had only seen two movies and one of then, Spotlight, won best picture. It was about the Spotlight team of the Boston Globe and its investigation into child sex abuse by Catholic clergy. One of the worst abusers, Father Shanley, was a priest in my parish. He abused some of my classmates so I had a vested interest in the movie.
When I was a kid, I didn’t know anything about sex. I always thought that meant male or female. Fill in one circle. It never occurred to me to wonder how babies started or how they finished. I was seven when my youngest sister was born, and I don’t even think I noticed my mother was pregnant. All of a sudden there was a new baby. I forget when I started to get curious. I think it was my early teens. We were naive in those days. None of us knew much, but we had a lot of questions. When I was in the eighth grade, one of the priests gave us a quick introduction to the basics. He used the chalk board and drew pictures, but that didn’t help much.
In high school, they separated the girls and the boys for a more in-depth introduction to reproduction. They had visual aids. I don’t remember who gave the talk, but I do remember the girl next to be was a nervous wreck. She shook so much that we all shook because we were sitting in linked canvas chairs. That was the talk where more than the basics were covered.
In high school I didn’t know personally know anyone who had had sex. Outside of marriage only bad girls did was what I was taught. We did hear rumors about girls, and they were tagged with bad names like town pump. We whispered about them. We didn’t hang around with them. Nobody wanted a bad name.
Keep in mind that girls thought differently than boys. We didn’t see a triumph. We saw a bit of disgrace.
It was college and the 60’s which gave my generation a whole new perspective on sex. I’m guessing the nuns probably gave the same lecture but I’m thinking there were smirks. Besides, what in the heck did nuns know?
Categories: Musings
Tags: Boston Globe, computer password, Father Shanley, Oscars, sex talk, Spotlight, town pump, visual aids, windy day
Comments: 12 Comments
February 28, 2016
We have lots of sun this morning and a light blue sky, but the day is breezy and cool. I can hear the sweet sounds of the wind chimes blowing.
I’m in a Sunday frame of mind, the kind of Sunday we had when I was a kid, a quiet day, a hang around the house day waiting for dinner. Sunday was always special. It was the only day we had dinner, a fancier fare than we had all week. Dinner was always in the afternoon, usually around two. Supper was at night. My dad used to work late and wasn’t always home in time for supper. We were always together for Sunday dinner. The meal centered around a roast of some sort and mashed potatoes. The vegetables differed from week to week. Bread was never served though I remember it was always on the table at the Cleaver’s, the Walton’s and most other programs about families. Their bread wasn’t fancy, just sliced bread stacked on a plate. I never saw any of them use salt or pepper on their foods. We didn’t either. The table held our plates and silverware and the food. There was barely room for the six of us. Most times my mother would move the food to the counter after we had served ourselves. If we wanted more, she’d always get up to serve us. I don’t remember my mother ever sitting down for an entire meal. We seldom had dessert, not even at Sunday dinner. If there was any in the house, we’d have a bowl of ice cream or we’d grab a few cookies, Oreos were the favorite.
I didn’t know until I was older that potatoes could be more than mashed or French fried. I was surprised to find out carrots and potatoes weren’t the only vegetables which could be served fresh, not out of a can. I did know about corn on the cob, but that was a summer vegetable for a cook-out.
I don’t remember having Sunday dinners in the summer. We had picnics at the beach and cookouts in the backyard. We ate a lot of hamburgers and hot dogs. Corn on the cob and baked beans, out of a can of course, were usually the vegetables. In those days we never had salad. Potato salad came much later, when we were older. Green salad was never a hit.
Despite the canned veggies and the lack of salads and greenery, we were healthy kids. We suffered from the usually maladies of childhood in those days like measles or the mumps, but that was about it. I might have wished to have a few stay at home from school sick days, but I wasn’t ever that lucky.
Categories: Musings
Tags: baked beans, Chicken, childhood maladies, cook-outs, corn on the cob, day quiet day, dinner, mashed potatoes, picnics, roast beef, Roasts, sea breeze, sun, Sunday, Sunday dinner, veggies, wind chimes
Comments: 10 Comments
February 27, 2016
My stomach is still upset. Every morning our ritual is the same. I wake up first, Gracie is next and Fern last. We all stretch then get out of bed. Fern, Gracie and I head downstairs. Maddie comes out of her room and is last down the stairs. I open Gracie’s door then get my papers. Gracie gets a treat while Fern and Maddie settle on their spots for morning naps. Gracie is the last to settle in. This morning I noticed no Maddie. I called her, made that weird sound with my lips which cats seem to like but still no Maddie. I started reading the paper but was a bit preoccupied wondering where Maddie was. I drank my coffee and called Maddie a few more times. I went upstairs and checked her room, no Maddie on the bed. I was really worried. I checked outside just in case, no sign of her. I opened closets and looked under beds. I even stuck my head into the eaves and called her again and again. I went and walked around the yard not expecting to see her but just in case. I was frantic thinking something had happened to her. I put a can of food in the cats’ dish, came downstairs and checked the front yard. I had no idea what to do next. All of a sudden Maddie jumped on the den table. I have no idea where she could have been. Cats are notorious for hiding. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to throttle her.
We always had a dog when I was a kid. My father didn’t like cats though he never gave a reason. Their being cats was enough. I brought home a kitten my junior year in high school. My dad was working in Maine and came home only for weekends. He told me to get rid of the cat before he got home. I didn’t. He wanted to see it so I gave the kitten to him. It snuggled in his arms. The cat stayed and became the first of many cats. My father told other people the cat was my mother’s and he was not a fan. I always figured he thought dogs were masculine and cats feminine, but when no one was around, he patted them, scratched their heads and let them sleep beside him on the couch. He really was a fan.
My street is loaded with kids and dogs. There are nine kids under ten living in three houses and nine dogs in eight houses. The kids are noisy. Every morning they play on the street and ride those new Big Wheels. They do this around 8 o’clock giving them playtime before the school bus comes. Four of the dogs are barkers, including Gracie. After school the kids are back on the street. They yell a lot.
I know kids make noise. It’s build into their genomes. They grow out of it, but it takes a long time. I’m going to have to be a bit more patient.
I love the nights. The quiet is soothing. I think that’s probably why I have become a night owl. The kids are in bed, and it’s my time to own the street.
Categories: Musings
Tags: barking dogs, calling, cat appearing, closets and eaves, dog or cat, hiding, kids and dogs, kitten, missing cat, nights, noisy kids, quiet, searching
Comments: 11 Comments
February 26, 2016
Gracie snores, and last night she snored so loudly she kept waking me up. My bedtime was late enough without being disturbed by her multiple snores and an occasional snort. I’m tired and it is only 11 o’clock. Gracie, of course, is having a morning nap. The poor baby must be tired.
Cold day today, it is in the high 30’s, but the sun is shining so I’m not going to complain. When I went to get the papers, I heard birds singing to greet the morning. It sounded like spring to me.
I have random memories which loop through my mind. Some I see only once while others recur. Some of my memories of growing up are faded and worn while others are so bright they could have happened yesterday. My grey jacket reappears out of one my memory drawer every spring. It was my favorite jacket because I started wearing it only when the weather got warmer. It had no lining. It did have pockets on each side, and it had a zipper. My brightest memory is wearing that jacket and skipping on the sidewalk on my way to school.
I still remember biology and dissecting a frog. My memory drawer has a picture of the frog lying on its back on a silver lab tray. It looks washed out, too long preserved. My lab partner wanted nothing to do with that frog and the scalpel. It was left to me. She took all the notes. That was our deal. Making the first cut took me a while. I had to forego the urge to gag. Dead frogs didn’t bother me, but their insides were better left inside.
My first Ghana memory is of the morning after our arrival. My room was on the second floor of a school dorm. I remember walking outside, standing at the rail and looking at what was spread out below me. I saw greenery everywhere. I could see rusty tins roofs. I remember the awe. I was in Africa.
My memory drawers overflow. Some I can’t even open; others I can’t shut. The sad memories have their own places. Sometimes they come unbidden. They are not always welcome.
Categories: Musings
Tags: biology, cold, dissecting a frog, Ghana, greenery, memory drawers, random memories, sad memories, singing birds, Snoring, spring jacket, sunny day, tin roofs
Comments: 9 Comments
February 25, 2016
Today is the same as the last few days: damp, dark, occasionally rainy and very windy. The phone woke me around 8. I let it go to voice. No message was left. I couldn’t go back to sleep so Gracie, Fern and I got out of bed. They are now napping.
When I was in the eighth grade, my friends and I were allowed to go to Boston by ourselves for the first time. We took the Sullivan Square bus from the stop in front of the movie theater uptown. At Sullivan Square we took the train, the subway train. It wasn’t called the T back then. I don’t remember where we got off, but I figure it must have been at the stop which had entrances to Filene’s and Jordan Marsh. That would have put us right downtown on Washington Street.
We had no destination in mind. It was the going by ourselves which was important. We roamed all over the city. I remember it was a Saturday because the market was open. Pushcarts were in rows with narrow aisles between them. The aisles were crowded with people. The wooden carts held fruit, veggies, nuts or candy. Vendors called out to us to stop at their carts. Butcher shops were in small storefronts across from the carts. Meat hung down on hooks. The butchers wore what must have been at one time white aprons. A couple of places sold pizza by the slice. I remember the smell of the pizza cooking.
We went to the North End which was all Italian back then. Widows wearing black sat on wooden kitchen chairs placed on sidewalks in front of their houses. They spoke to each other in Italian. Bakeries sold what I found out later were cannolis. Some places sold pizza by the slice or the pie.
The North End was a foreign country to me. Rabbits hung in store windows. In a candy store, some candy looked exactly like fruits and vegetables. Some looked like white mice with black whiskers. I asked and found out they had been made with marzipan. I bought a mouse. It tasted horrible. The pizza was served in square slices. The crusts were thin.
I was a foreigner. The North End was the first real place to feed my wanderlust.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Boston, butcher shops, cannoli, carts, damp, dark, downtown, Haymarket, Italain, marzipan, North End, open market, Pizza, rainy, storefronts, subway, windy
Comments: 8 Comments
