Archive for the ‘Musings’ category
May 12, 2015
Last night was hot and muggy. Poor Gracie was panting so I turned the AC on in my bedroom. It was a delight feeling the chill, and we both slept deeply. Today is sunny but cool and tonight will be back to the 40’s. It rained sometime earlier this morning. I know only because the street was still wet when I woke up.
My mother cooked hamburger more than any other kind of meat. It was the cheapest and the most versatile. My favorite was always her meatloaf. From meal to meal it never really tasted the same. I know it had eggs and breadcrumbs but I have no idea what else she threw in for flavor. In those days herbs came from a bottle. My mother always had onion and garlic powder on hand as well as oregano and parsley. Sometimes her meatloaf had ketchup spread across the top with bacon strips covering the ketchup. We always wanted a piece with the crusty bacon. Sometimes she frosted the meatloaf with mashed potatoes and then would brown the tips in the oven. Every now and then we’d get a round meatloaf hand-formed and placed in a pie pan to cook.
We always thought ourselves quite the gourmands when my mother cooked her Chinese food. We had a chop suey sort of dish with hamburger, bean sprouts and water chestnuts. My mother always put crunchy chow mein noodles on the top. Then there was American chop suey, a name which still perplexes me today. It has nothing to do with chop suey; instead, it’s elbow macaroni, hamburger, tomato sauce and onions and peppers. My mother would sprinkle parmesan cheese from the green container on top.
Hamburgers were a summer staple grilled to perfection by my dad. I always wanted a cheeseburger, and my father would open the cellophane covering each piece of yellow cheese and crown the meat with the cheese. He’d put the top on the grill so the cheese would melt. My mother usually made potato salad. It didn’t matter how often we had hamburgers and hot dogs in the summer. I would have eaten them every night without complaint.
I think my mother was a bit of a magician in the kitchen. We never thought of how often we ate hamburger. All of those dishes tasted different to us and a couple were even exotic.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 40's tonight, American chop suey, bacon, cheeseburger, chillier day, chow mein, eggs and crumbs, grill, Hamburger, hot dogs, ketchup, meatloaf, muggy night, rain
Comments: 12 Comments
May 11, 2015
The sun is gone and clouds have taken over. Maybe rain they said in the paper. I’d be fine with that. It hasn’t rained in a long while.
My neighbor and I get together every Monday. She is Brazilian and wants to learn to speak English better so we just chat. First, though, I had to explain that you don’t need a computer to chat. Face to face works even better. She said that was good to know. Today was a strange word day. We talked about jimmies and sprinkles and frappes and milk shakes and rotaries and roundabouts. We also talked about singular verbs sometimes needing an S as she is prone to leave it off. Good to know she told me. Nicee, my neighbor, and I share a love for coconut ice cream. Her favorite in Brazil is corn ice cream. I was dubious but she swore it tasted the best of all. Her son is graduating from high school this year, and she showed me his new suit and wanted to know where the bottom of the pant leg should be: above the shoe, at the top of the shoe or covering the shoe. I told her I’d check on-line.
I graduated from high school in the days when girls wore dresses and boys wore suits and ties under their gowns. The girls wore white gowns while the boys wore green, our school colors. We sat on one side while the boys sat on the other. Our graduation was outside in front of the school. Some of us were on chairs while those in the back sat on a small bleacher. The Class of 1965 sign was hung above the top-tier of the bleacher on the front of the school. It fell during the ceremony and a few guys were knocked off the bleacher and one guy was knocked out for a bit after he hit the ground. The news traveled fast among us whispered one to another. It was the highlight of the ceremony. I remember the speaker was from the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute, and he was quite boring. We chatted a bit while he spoke and were careful not to be too loud. Scholarships were given out, and I remember reading my dad’s lips after getting mine and he was asking me how much. After what seemed hours came the awarding of our diplomas. My parents gave me a party, and I remember my mother made chicken and eggplant parmesan. My gift was a typewriter to take to college. I was thrilled. I still have it stored in the cellar. I last used it during my teaching years before the computer made it a relic.
Categories: Musings
Tags: caps and gowns, chatting, coconut ice cream, corn ice cream, Graduation, ice cream, jimmies and sprinkles, maybe rain, milk shakes and frappes, speeches, typewriter, verbs
Comments: 14 Comments
May 10, 2015
Today is Mother’s Day. It is the day I honor my mother and my memories of her. Every year I post basically this same entry with only a few little changes.
My mother was amazing. She was generous, fun to be with and was the perfect martyr when she needed to be, a skill I think most mothers have. It was her tone of voice so filled with pain that caused our guilt to well to the surface. “I’ll do it myself,” she’d say. We’d scurry to do whatever she wanted.
My sisters and I laugh often about the curses she inflicted on us: the love of everything Christmas and never thinking you have enough presents for everyone, giving Easter baskets overflowing with candy and fun toys and surprising people with a gift just because.
My mother had a generosity of spirit. She was funny and smart and the belle of every ball. She always had music going in the kitchen as she worked so she could sing along. She played Frank and Tony and Johnny and from her I learned the old songs. My mother drew all the relatives to her, and her house was filled. My cousins visited often. She was their favorite aunty. My mother loved to play Big Boggle, and we’d sit for hours at the kitchen table and play so many games we’d lose track of the time. Christmas was always amazing, and she passed this love to all of us. We traveled together, she and I, and my mother was game for anything. I remember Italy and my mother and me after dinner at the hotel bar where she’d enjoy her cognac. She never had it any other time, but we’re on vacation she said and anything goes. I talked to her just about every day, as did my sisters. I loved it when she came to visit. We’d shop, have dinner out then play games at night. I always waited on her when she was here. I figured it was the least I could do.
My mother loved extreme weather shows, TV judges and crime. She never missed Judge Judy. She also liked quiz shows and she and I used to play Jeopardy together on the phone at night. She always had a crossword puzzle book with a pen inside on the table beside her chair, and I used to try to fill in some of the blanks. On the dining room table was often a jig saw puzzle, and we all stopped to add pieces on the way to the kitchen. My mother loved a good time.
She did get feisty, and I remember flying slippers aimed at my head when I was a kid. She expertly used mother’s guilt on us, her poor victims. We sometimes drove her crazy, and she let us know, none too quietly. We never argued over politics. She kept her opinions close. We sometimes argued over other things, but the arguments never lasted long.
Even after all this time, I still think to reach for the phone to call my mother when I see something interesting or have a question I know only she can answer. When I woke up this morning, my first thought was of her, and how much she is missed. No one ever told me how hard it would be.
Categories: Musings
Tags: generosity of spirit, Mother's Day, mother's guilt, my mother, the belle of the ball, traveling
Comments: 14 Comments
May 9, 2015
Gracie drools when I am eating something she’d like. She often even makes bubbles which hang from her jowls. The bubbles are sometimes doubled, with the smaller on top, which I think takes talent, but why am I talking about drool is probably running through your heads. It is all because I am watching a really bad science fiction movie called Age of Tomorrow. The queen alien drools constantly while eating human captives. I figure the director thought she looked more menacing with her sharp teeth and the drool. The main general just made an Independence Day knock off speech because they are going to invade the alien home planet to save captive humans still on the menu and to kill the aliens who are bent on total human destruction. The good guys used an alien craft they captured to get our heroes to the planet. Sound familiar? Bullets don’t kill the aliens, but the army keeps shooting. A fireman is part of the rescue because his daughter is being held. He is carrying an axe. It works. The really awful movie just ended. The humans didn’t win for a change, but the main character said, with his axe in hand, “This isn’t over yet.” I pray that doesn’t mean a sequel.
I have switched to a 1950’s B&W movie called The Lost Volcano starring Johnny Sheffield better known as Boy in the Tarzan movies. It takes place in Africa, has lots of vine swinging, a pet monkey who understands English and Bomba, as Johnny is known, wears a loin cloth. The white bwana is capturing wild animals. Bomba is freeing them from their cages. Bwana’s son plays with Bomba but doesn’t believe Bomba is real. He calls him a legend like the man raised by apes.
I feel ten again watching Saturday TV especially this black and white movie. The only changes fifty plus years have made are I had coffee instead of cereal, and I sat on the couch instead of on the floor inches from the TV screen.
As for the weather report, today is chilly and cloudy. I have no plans whatsoever that take me out of the house. I do have plants to water, bird feeders to fill and a bed to make. Sounds like a full day to me.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Africa, Age of Tomorrow, aliens, apes, Black and white movie, Bomba, bwana, drooling, good guys, humans for dinner, monsters, Science fiction
Comments: 6 Comments
May 8, 2015
My windows have been opened to bring inside the sweetness of spring and to rid the house of the closed smell of winter. Through those opened windows I get to hear the birds and be serenaded by their songs, sounds muted in the house during winter. This morning I was awake at dawn for a bit and could hear the mighty chorus of birds greeting the day; however, with the temperature going down to the 40’s tonight, I’ll have no choice but to shut the windows as the day starts to close and the sun dips behind the trees.
A long missing sock has returned home. It is red and one half of a favorite pair. The other red sock sat on the dryer all this time so I’d know where it was just in case its mate returned, but I admit I wasn’t hopeful. I went to get a sweatshirt this morning and pulled out one I haven’t worn in a while, a favorite sweatshirt, a Doctor Who sweatshirt. When I put it on, the sock popped out of the hood. Now I have a reunited pair of favorite socks.
When I was a kid, I didn’t really care if my socks matched. I just wanted one for each foot and just about any socks would do. I didn’t have fashion sense. It never even occurred to me there was a method to choosing clothes. I’d wear my girl jeans forever as they were comfortable and warm. Girl jeans were the ones with the zipper in the pocket. Back then that wasn’t the only difference between girls’ and boys’ clothes. Girls never wore shirts but rather blouses which always looked like shirts to me so I was a bit baffled. I know girls’ shirts have buttons on the left side while boys’ have buttons on the right. I looked it up just now and found that the reason dated back at least a century. Because men dressed themselves and most were right -handed, that’s where the buttons went, but servants dress the women and stood in front to button the frocks so left-side buttons made for easy buttoning. Sneakers too were different. Boys had high tops while my sneakers were low tops but both were usually Keds. I never wore a jersey, but my brother often did. His looked like Beaver Cleaver’s, usually long sleeve and striped. I did have one summer advantage, sleeve-less blouses.
Fashion has changed dramatically, and I couldn’t be happier. I don’t have to wear classic old lady clothes. They don’t exist anymore. Come to think of it, neither do old ladies.
Categories: Musings
Tags: blouses, buttons, chorus of birds, cold night, fashion sense, girl jeans, jersey, missing sock, opened windows, shirts, sneakers, sweetness of spring, warm day
Comments: 19 Comments
May 7, 2015
We have had such beautiful days, warm days, short-sleeve shirt days. The sun is even so bright it makes me squint. By the afternoon the sun has made its way around the house to the back so I go and sit on the deck to take in the warmth. Gracie stands beside my chair and watches the birds until she gets sleepy and lies down for a nap in the sun.
Yesterday I was sitting at a red light when I noticed a hawk high above me riding the thermals in ever smaller circles. I got lost in the hawk, and it took a honk from the driver behind me to bring me back to the now green light.
I have seen foxes, rabbits, coyotes, wild turkeys, deer, skunks, opossums and the common raccoon around here where I live. Actually it was only one deer which ran across the road in front of my car just down the street from my house. I pulled over to watch until it disappeared near the power lines.
I don’t remember seeing many animals when I was a kid even though we spent a lot of time roaming the woods. I remember snakes the most. They seemed to be everywhere. They were, for the most part, garter snakes. We’d pick them up just to check them out, but we never hurt them and we always let them go. They’d slither so fast when freed they seemed to disappear. I can’t remember the last time I saw a snake around here.
I liked scary when I was a kid. I don’t mean afraid. I never wanted to be afraid. Scary was mostly a product of my imagination when I heard footsteps behind me or that hook scratching the screen. Scary made me giggle a little, a sort of defensive reaction to prove I wasn’t really scared. Once, when I was an adult, my dog Maggie, another boxer, woke me from a sound sleep when she leapt out of bed, stood at the top of the stairs and barked her fiercest bark several times but then she just turned around, jumped back on the bed and went to sleep. I wasn’t as fortunate as it took me a while to calm down enough to go back to sleep. I wasn’t sure what to think about Maggie’s barking. Maybe she had a nightmare was one thought, but I didn’t really think so because she usually just sort of barked in her sleep when she was dreaming. I really believed she heard something, something loud enough to put her on alert. Whatever it was left because of Maggie’s deep, fierce barking. She was my protector, and I was really glad to have her. Gracie has that role now, and she is great at her job.
Categories: Musings
Tags: beautiful day, Coyote, deck, footsteps, fox, hawk, opossums, rabbits, riding the thermals, scary, snakes, sun, the hook, turkeys
Comments: 8 Comments
May 5, 2015
The morning is warm but cloudy. Rain is a possibility, but I won’t mind because we haven’t had much rain lately. A while back we had days of rain then it stopped, plugged by an unseen hand. Gracie and I have a couple of errands later including our first stop at the garden center. I have a list of flowers I hope to add to the front garden, and I know what herbs and veggies I want.
When I was a kid, I never thought flowers would become important to me. My father and his pansies were all I knew. Few of the yards around us had gardens either because my neighborhood was filled with lawn people. A green, lush, beautiful lawn was a status symbol. It had to be mowed just right and frequently watered. On hot days we’d run through the sprinkler which sort of annoyed my dad. It wasn’t good for his lawn to have us tamp it down as we ran. The neighbor behind us was a radical lawn lady. Even though we shared a hill, she never wanted us walking on the grass. She’d yell from her kitchen window if we dared pass the line of demarcation between her part of the hill and ours. It wasn’t a real line, but it was the visual boundary between her yard and ours, between a lush lawn and just grass. My father didn’t care about that hill. It was his front lawn which he tended lovingly.
When my parents came to visit, my dad brought all his lawn tools including his mower. My mother and I would go shopping, and my dad would tend my yard. He’d mow and rake the grass then trim the bushes. He’d even venture into my wild backyard and mow the tall grass, reminiscent more of a field than a lawn. I think my neighbors were probably cheering as I never mowed until I figured the grass was high enough to make it worth my while. When my mother and I would get home, my dad would give us the grand tour of all he’d done. The difference was amazing. He always made my front yard looked cared for and loved. That was his gift to me, one he enjoyed giving. I loved him even more for it.
Categories: Musings
Tags: flowers, front yard, garden center, green, herbs veggies, lawns, lush grass, maybe rain, mowing, my dad and his mower, pansies, Shopping, trim bushes, trimming, waram day, wild backyard
Comments: 16 Comments
May 4, 2015
Today is one of those spring days when outside is warmer than inside. The day is absolutely gorgeous. It is warm, even t-shirt warm, while the house is still sweatshirt chilly. I’m hitting the deck as soon as I finish here.
Every Monday at ten o’clock I visit my neighbor who is Brazilian. Niecy and I just chat so that she can improve her conversational English. She offered to pay me but I refused. She is my neighbor after all, and it’s fun just sitting and chatting. Sometimes I even think we should be sharing tea and cucumber sandwiches.
The week is a quiet one for me but then again most weeks are. I have all this time on my hands, and I find ways to keep busy but most times it’s reading or cleaning or even taking a nap. I don’t go out much, but I’m fine with that. Gracie and I did take a ride the other day after the dump run, and I bought myself my favorite sandwich to eat at home which, I know, doesn’t sound all that exciting, but I enjoyed every minute of the ride and the sandwich. It doesn’t take much to make me happy.
Last night I watched The Man from U.N.C.L.E., an episode filmed in 1965. The girls’ sort of slinky dresses, the guys’ skinny ties and the swim were all part of one scene. I know I must have worn the same type clothes and danced in the same way, but it made me laugh anyway. The swim has to be one of the silliest dances.
Color has returned to the world. We are over the rainbow, no more Kansas. My spring flowers have all bloomed, and my neighbor’s front garden is filled with tulips of all colors. All the forsythia in the different yards is still bright and eye-catching. Even the male goldfinch is back to being bright yellow or gold I suppose. I can see buds and some leaves on a few of the trees. It is time for me to start wearing my bright colors, to start wearing spring.
Categories: Musings
Tags: chatting, colorful world, favorite sandwich, Over the Rainbow, ride, skinny ties, staying home, t-shirt weather, tea and cucumber sandwiches, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., the swim, warm day
Comments: 16 Comments
May 3, 2015
Warm weather is coming. Starting tomorrow we’ll have 60+ degrees for most of the week. Given my penchant for falling, I’ll forego clicking my heels in the air to celebrate. A yay will just have to do.
I walked most places around town even when I was a teenager. None of my friends had their own cars and most of our families had only the one, the one our fathers drove. I remember walking home at night by myself. I was never afraid because we hadn’t learned fear. I never rushed because I loved those night walks, especially in the summer. The air was always warm, the sky covered by stars and night birds sang me home. Circles of light were on the sidewalks courtesy of the streetlights. Few cars were on the road. Houses were always lit and most of the time I could hear TV’s. Sometimes I could even see the flickering black and white screens.
The furthest walk I had was from the diner at the end of the square. I used to belong to a drill team, St. Patrick’s Shamrocks, and we had practice at Recreation Park twice a week in the summer during the competition season. There were no lights at that field so practice ended when it got dark. After practice, we’d walk from the field to the diner for a brownie and a coke. For the walk home, my friends went in the opposite direction, and I walked by myself.
During one late walk, a police car stopped beside me. It was driven by my friend’s brother who offered me a ride home. I took it. He turned on the blue lights just as we got close to my house. He walked me to the door. I can only imagine what my neighbors were thinking.
Those long ago walks gave me a love for the night, and I sit on the deck at night with Gracie beside me. The sky is filled with stars, the night birds sing and peepers from the pond at the end of the street join their chorus. Sometimes I even fall asleep on the lounge with Gracie at my feet.
Categories: Musings
Tags: blue police lights, drill practice, family car, night walking, police car ride, Recreation Park, singing birds, St. Pat's Shamrocks, starry skies, streetlights, walking, warm weather coming
Comments: 18 Comments
May 2, 2015
Cold again but sunny-the weather is in a rut.
The red spawn can fly. Yesterday I noticed he was at a different feeder and was sitting and dining al fresco on the backside so he couldn’t see me. I could see only his tail hanging below the feeder. I went slowly across the deck making no noise so he couldn’t hear me. When I got to the feeder, I was so close I could have touched him. His eyes got huge when he saw me and realized he was stuck. I was by the rail, his usual escape route. I stamped my foot to scare him, and he jumped off the feeder and sort of flew to the ground, two stories below. He landed on all fours then ran to the back part of the yard. Sadly, yesterday’s experience will have no affect on that spawn. He’ll be back. I just know he will.
When I was a little kid, feeding the squirrels on Boston Common was exciting. My dad would buy a couple of bags of peanuts and give us each some. I’d shell a few then I’d toss them. A stampede always ensued. Several of the grey squirrels would scurry over, stand in front of me, some on hind legs, and wait for a handout. I thought it was kind of neat to have wildlife so close to me, almost eating out of my hand. I swear the squirrels living on the Common had to waddle from place to place because they were so well fed.
I remember London and Trafalgar Square and the pigeons. My dad and I went touring a bit by ourselves one afternoon. I don’t remember where my mother was. We bought some seed, and the birds attacked. I swear they were Hitchcock extras, hungry and out of work. They jumped on our hands, shoulders and even our heads. I threw the seeds. My dad held on to his, and he was soon covered in pigeons. They were flying around him, and I took pictures. He was laughing in every picture. When he was finally out of seed, we sat on a bench for a bit and concocted a plan. We’d get my mother there, act innocent and have her hold some seeds in her outstretched hands. We did, and the pigeons attacked. I took pictures, great pictures of flapping wings circling around my mother. She was screaming as the birds settled on her head and shoulders. We yelled for her to save herself and throw the seeds. My mother was really upset. This was her first attack by birds. My dad and I acted innocent and solicitous, but I suspected she knew.
I took slides back then and we always had a slide night a month or two later. The pigeons pictures were hysterical, even my mother had to laugh.
Categories: Musings
Tags: attack of the pigeons, bird seed, Boston Common, cold, feeding the squirrels, flying squirrel, London Trafalgar Square, peanuts, pigeons, red spawn, throw the seeds
Comments: 23 Comments
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