Archive for the ‘Musings’ category
November 26, 2015
I am reposting last year’s Thanksgiving musings. They can’t be bettered. There is, however, one change. We are going out to eat. I’ll have to dress for dinner. Yesterday I made my chocolate pie. My sister made her chocolate pie as well as her other pies. My other sister literally had to stuff her huge turkey into the roasting pan. It just fit.
I always think a day set aside for giving thanks has to be the best of all days.
Thanksgiving is the least adorned holiday of them all. We don’t buy each other presents or decorate the house. There are no new outfits in spring colors. The highlight of the day is dinner and being together around the table as a family related by blood or friendship. Of all the holidays, it is the one in which we all share so much in common. Traditional dishes unique to each family are served but so are turkey and mashed potatoes, stuffing and gravy and all those pies. It is the time for us to remember the people we love who are no longer with us and to appreciate the ones who are. We give thanks for the good in our lives, the food on our tables and the glory of every day. We talk together and laugh together at dinner. We pass the rolls, the green bean casserole and the canned cranberry sauce with the ribbing. We eat until we can eat no more. We finish by doing some cleaning up then relaxing in the living room until we have some room for dessert.
This morning I will watch the parade, the same as I have done as long I can remember. I’ll talk to my sisters to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving. I won’t dress fancy for Thanksgiving, none of us really do. I’ll sit with my friends and enjoy every part of the day. I am thankful for the life I have been lucky enough to live, for the people I love and the people who love me.
I am thankful for all of you, my Coffee family.
Categories: Musings
Tags: eating together, family, giving thanks, out to dinner, remembering, sharing the bounty of food, Thanksgiving musing, traditional dishes, Turkey
Comments: 22 Comments
November 24, 2015
Today is a sunny day but not a warm, sunny day. Gracie’s ears are always cold when she comes back inside the house. There is hardly any breeze, and only the tips of the dead leaves on the smallest branches move. The summer sun warms us while today’s sun, the deep fall sun, only gives us light.
My hand is still swollen, but I am back to my two fingered typing. When I went to get the papers this morning, I walked gingerly on the brick walkway, the site of yesterday’s fall. All went well.
Just before Thanksgiving never had the excitement of just before Christmas. In school we colored turkeys and cut out construction paper turkey tails we’d later glue to our papers though a few usually ended up stuck to our fingers. I hadn’t ever seen a real turkey, just pictures of one. My turkeys came in a package and were usually frozen. My mother always bought a huge turkey which fed us endlessly after the holiday. She’d put it in the blue, enamel roasting pot then into the oven where it would cook for hours. She’d baste it with its own juices, and she’d sneak a bit of the stuffing, the crusty part sticking out of the turkey. My mother made the best stuffing. The secret, but not such a big secret here in New England, was the Bell’s seasoning, which my sister and I still use. It comes in a small yellow box with a turkey on the front and is a combination of rosemary, oregano, sage, ginger, and marjoram. My mother would cook the onion and celery in butter then pour it on the bread, add milk and finally the Bell’s. I used to try to sneak a bit of the seasoned bread before it even went into the bird. It was delicious.
The house on Thanksgiving smelled the best it ever smelled. Every time my mother opened the oven more of that aroma would spread into the air and fill all of our senses. The turkey, when it was finished, was a beautifully browned masterpiece. My father always carved. He’d ask us what we wanted. We always said the white meat. When I was much older, I realized the dark meat was the best, moist and tasty. My father always took a leg. He’d cut what he could then he’d pick up the leg and eat the rest of the meat. When he was done, the leg was stripped clean, only bones and cartilage were left on the plate.
Categories: Musings
Tags: basting, Bell's seasoning, Bell's stuffing, bricks, cold and sunny, Just before Thanksgiving, small breeze, Stuffing, swollen hand, Turkey
Comments: 14 Comments
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.
Categories: Musings
Tags: brick walkway, cursing, disfigured hand, falling again, finger, grass, pain, safe fall, three branches of the government, tutoring, wrist swollen
Comments: 14 Comments
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.
Categories: Musings
Tags: attic, Brewster Book Store, Christmas shopping, closet, hiding Christmas presents, hiding toys, rain, raindrops, route 6A, Shopping
Comments: 18 Comments
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.
Categories: Musings
Tags: average cook, burning leaves, carrots, Cooking, corn, fall weather, light blue sky, mashed potatoes, New England day, raking leaves, vegetables
Comments: 8 Comments
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.
Categories: Musings
Tags: B&W TV, dreary day, foggy windows, frost, M&M's, Macy's parade, nutcrackers, rainy day, scrape car windows, tangerines, window ice
Comments: 13 Comments
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.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 50˚, clean cabinets, cloudy, dining room, extra bedroom, front porch, frost, HGTV jargon, made bed, my house, organize closets, pantry, productive, wash, wide plank pine floors, windy
Comments: 24 Comments
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.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Boxers, cold day, early darkness, every day blessings, fitful and restless, leafless trees, sleep of the dead, stubborn dogs
Comments: 18 Comments
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
Categories: Musings
Tags: baby rash, busy morning, fall day, kennel spot, solitary confinement, talcum powder, vet appointment
Comments: 10 Comments
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.
Categories: Musings
Tags: clockwise, cloudy, cold, dressed to the nines, good egg, kiss of death, lexicon, tough row to hoe
Comments: 16 Comments
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