Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

“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.

“Welcome, winter. Your late dawns and chilled breath make me lazy, but I love you nonetheless.”

November 12, 2015

Cloudy still, but finally the rain has stopped. Even the wind of last night has calmed and everything is quiet. Some leaves still hang from oak branches despite all that weather. Pine needles are everywhere covering lawns, driveways and my deck. If I had awakened from a coma and looked out the window, I’d know it was fall.

Each season has its own identity, but the identities sometimes blur when moving from one season to another. A few weeks ago was late summer and shirt-sleeve weather. My friends and I ate on the deck. Winter then sneaked in for a bit and we had temperatures in the high 30’s. Now, though, summer has finally gone and fall is here. The days are in the 50’s but the nights are colder, into the high 40’s. It isn’t yet jacket weather. A sweatshirt will suffice.

I saw where many places got snow: my sister got 3 or 4 inches in Colorado, but the mountains got far more. She said it was cold, down to the teens at night. It was sort of a run of the mill storm for her because her first snow is usually in late October or early November. She says 3 or 4 inches is nothing. I agree. I think of a snowstorm with so little snow as a sweeper, a broom instead of a shovel.

When I was a kid, any amount of snow was worthwhile. A huge storm was always the best as that would mean no school and a day spent outside building forts, throwing snowballs or sledding down the hill. A storm of tree or four inches meant fun after school, but it also brought the horrors of snow boots and ski pants. I could never get my shoes out of my boots without taking the boots off and pulling the shoes out. The ski pants went under my uniform skirt. I hated the look of the skirt over the pants, but my mother insisted as my legs would be so red from the snow and the cold when I’d get home if I didn’t wear them.

I can remember sitting at my desk looking out the window and seeing branches bent lower from the snow, the outside windows sills holding snow piles and snow falling from an occasional squall. I think all of us, my classmates and I, spent the day sighing.

“It’s true, I’ve become one of those grumpy older women.”

November 10, 2015

This morning I had a meeting at 9. When I got home, I went back to bed and slept almost three hours. The clouds and the dampness don’t seem to engender high spirits and frivolity. I’m tired and I’m grouchy, and I pity anyone who crosses my path. Luckily, though, I’m in for the day so the rest of the world is safe from me.

Working in a high school meant dealing with people, mostly teenagers, all day long. I was generally pleasant but occasionally had one of those days. When I did, the news about my mood spread like wildfire among the kids. They knew this was not a day to be tossed from class. This was a day to walk on egg shells and be especially polite.

Nothing will be accomplished by me today. The laundry sits in the hall as testament to my lack of energy and my lack of interest. The other day I went through the closet to find all my winter hats and mittens. I knocked down some games, some books and a couple of coats. I found almost everything except two mittens are singles. Somewhere are the other two. I, however, choose not to tackle the closet again as I expect that what I put back is tenuous and might just fall again. Usually I would be obsessed with the need to rejoin the couples. Not today!

I do have some napkins which need to be ironed. They have been piled on the desk chair for a few months, okay maybe even a bit longer than that. I’m thinking I might just iron them today. It’s an easy task, unlike the laundry which necessitates up and down stairs a few times then folding the clothes and putting them away. With the napkins I can sit down and use my table as an ironing board. I can even watch TV. This day might just go down in the annals as one filled with accomplishment.

Tomorrow I have a doctor’s appointment. He’s keeping an eye on my cholesterol and checks it every six months. When he asks me how I’ve been feeling, I don’t think he’ll take grouchy as an answer, but I might just give it to him anyway. After all, he did ask.

“Do you realize if it weren’t for Edison we’d be watching TV by candlelight?”

November 9, 2015

Today is a lovely fall day. It isn’t all that warm because of the cool breeze, but the sun is bright and sharp. My heat came on during the early morning so the house was comfortable when I came downstairs. It was my morning to sit and chat with my neighbor to help improve her English. She gets stuck on have or has. Usually she uses have for everything. She turns played and similar words into two syllables. We worked on that as well. She gives me the Portuguese word for what we’re talking about and helps me with the pronunciation. I guess that makes it a joint effort.

After Wednesday my dance card is empty. It is getting on to the time of the year when I tend to hibernate. I’ll see a movie now and then and play games with my friends on Sunday, but that’s about it, and I’m fine with that.

When I was a kid, my winters were about the same as now. We went to the Saturday Matinee a couple of times a month, but the rest of the week was pretty quiet. It got dark only a few hours after we’d get home from school, but most days we just stayed in the house as it was too cold to play outside. We’d watch television and we’d do our homework. Most afternoons we did both at once. I remember watching Superman and even back then I wondered how Lois and Jimmy didn’t recognize Clark. I guessed the glasses were a better disguise than we imagined.

Supper was usually around six. Most nights my father made it home in time. In my memory drawers I see him walking in the door wearing his overcoat and his fedora. He’d put them in the closet then change out of his suit. He always wore a suit to work. Supper was eaten around the kitchen table, but there was never enough room for all of us unless the table got pulled out and another seat was added at the end. I think that’s when my mother started eating at the counter as we never did pull out the table except for holidays. Much later, in a different house, the dining room table was big enough so the whole family and more could sit together and eat; however, we mostly did that only on holidays because by then we were scattered and it was only during the holidays we’d all together. My mother always joined us at the table.

“I left the fairy tales lying on the floor of the nursery, and I have not found any books so sensible since.”

November 8, 2015

Autumn has returned. The air is chilly. It is 54˚, a seasonal temperature. Last night the wind blew and howled. This morning more branches are bare, their leaves covering the ground and deck. The house was cold when I woke up so I had to turn the heat back on. Gracie and I are going to the dump and Agway then we’ll watch the Patriots.

It is a quiet day both inside and out. Gracie is sleeping and breathing deeply. The keys make noise when I type. Those are the only sounds I can hear. The quiet is a Sunday thing. That’s the way it has always been. I know the stores are all opened, but my neighborhood has no shouts from kids playing in the street and no dogs barking one after the other. Noises like leaf blowers, instead of rakes, and lawn mowers are Saturday things. They were when I was young and still are today. The rest of the days of the week haven’t as much personality as the weekend.

When I was young, I loved nursery rhymes. The way the words fit together and the rhythm appealed to my ears. I always said them sing-songy. We used to tease my brother by calling him Georgie Porgie then we’d run before he could catch us. I used to wonder about the ten o’clock scholar, “A diller, a dollar,  A ten o’clock scholar, What makes you come so soon? You used
to come at ten o’clock, And now you come at noon.” How could he be earlier if he came later? I looked this up one time and found out the word ‘diller’ is a Yorkshire term for a boy who is dim-witted and stupid. The ten and twelve o’clock lines are the other students making fun of him. It still doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me.

I don’t know if I have a favorite nursery rhyme as I liked so many of them. I always felt bad for Old Mother Hubbard’s dog, Humpty Dumpty and poor Jack of Jack and Jill fame. I used to wish on the first star, Star Light Star bright, The first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, Have the wish I wish tonight. Actually I often still do. I don’t think many wishes ever came true , but I thought I’d keep giving it a try in case. I liked the days of the week one because I was a Sunday child: But the child that is born on the Sabbath day Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay. Maybe my favorite one is Christmas is coming, the geese are getting fat, Please to put a penny in the old man’s hat; If you haven’t got a penny, a ha’penny will do, If you haven’t got a ha’penny then God bless you!

I accepted this rhyme without too many questions. It was the Christmas is coming which I loved the very thought of. Bob Cratchit and his family ate goose so that was okay with me. I got the penny part and my mother told me a ha’penny was a half penny. I wondered if you had to cut the penny in half. It took a while before I got the answer to that one.

“Writing in English is like throwing mud at a wall.”

November 7, 2015

Yesterday and sometime during the night it rained. The wind was so strong my deck, my lawn and my driveway have disappeared, buried in fallen leaves and pine needles. The sky is still overcast and the day is damp and cooler than it has been. Yesterday was close to 70˚. I even had windows open including my bedroom all night.

A loud noise woke me up last night. When I turned on the light, I found Gracie had rolled out of bed to the floor. I hurried to check her. She seemed fine and had no problem jumping back onto the bed. This morning I checked her again, and she seems fine. I suspect she was as shocked as I was. Fern looked, didn’t move and quickly went back to sleep.

Yesterday morning there was a head-on collision on the Sagamore Bridge. The front page of the Cape Times had a blurb which said the driver of the box truck was seriously injured. The inside, more detailed article, quoted the CEO of the company saying the driver was injured but was okay. It wasn’t the fact of the accident which caught my attention but rather the cargo of the two trucks. One carried fish and the other cranberries. I have to think the cape would be just about the only place where fish and cranberries would be involved in the same accident. The driver was concerned about his two beautiful bluefin tuna. The description of the accident by a police officer in Bourne gave me a chuckle, “Cranberries were observed covering the entire roadway in either direction on the bridge.” After the offending cranberries were removed, the bridge was reopened.

I do love reading my papers, but I often find the language wanting and sometimes even silly. Sadly a woman’s burned body was found on Wednesday near railroad tracks in Bridgewater. Her hands and feet were bound. According to the article, police speculated this was a homicide. There were a couple of quotes from people living in the neighborhood. This was my favorite and clearly indicated the author was starved for copy, “It’s very disturbing to have a dead body dumped next to the house you grew up in.” You think?