Archive for the ‘Musings’ category
September 29, 2015
It seems I get later and later but for good reasons. This morning it was a long library board meeting to choose officers. The length of the meeting had little to do with the election of unopposed officers. No, it was mimosas and pastries and conversation which kept us late.
I’m running out of adjectives to describe this gorgeous weather. It is in the mid-70’s and sunny with a breeze strong enough to swing the chimes. Tomorrow they’ll be downpours and over 3 inches of rain according to the weatherman. Not a single person is complaining. We need the rain, and we have had our share, more than our share, of beautiful fall days.
Where I grew up, we called it tonic. Down here they call it soda. By either name, we seldom had any in the house when I was a kid, ginger ale maybe for an occasional highball, my parents’ favorite drink when I was young, but nothing else. We drank milk, a combination of white milk and chocolate milk, both delivered by the milkman. My mother used to drink Tab until Diet Coke came along. My father was always a milk drinker. He loved a cold glass of milk with his Hydrox cookies or his Pilot crackers topped with butter. He’d be devastated now as both his favorites are no longer made. He’d probably start eating Saltines but never Oreos, maybe Newman-O’s which remind me of Hydrox. My dad was most particular about his snacks.
We called my mother the seagull because of what she ate. Leftovers were her favorite breakfast, and sometimes she ate them cold in a sandwich, including hot dogs cut in half and down the middle. She’d rummage in the fridge, pullout the covered dishes and build herself a sandwich. Cucumbers were a favorite topping. She was also a mayonnaise fan far more than a mustard fan. My mother liberally applied the condiment. Even with toast the butter was slathered. Grilled cheese, according to her, was best at its messiest.
I eat all sorts of foods and will try almost anything when I’m traveling. I think that’s the seagull in me.
Categories: Musings
Tags: beautiful fall days, Butter, chocolate milk, downpours, gorgeous day, grill cheese, highball, Hydrox, library board meeting, mayonaisse, messy foods, mimosas, Newman-O's, Pilot crackers, rain, seagull, soda, tonic
Comments: 8 Comments
September 28, 2015
Woe is me! Woe is me! My back was terrible yesterday, last night and this morning. I maneuvered by holding on to stuff as I moved. Last night I woke up several times when I heard moaning. No ghosts or spirits, just me. This morning you’d have sworn Quasimodo, Igor and I were blood relations sharing the same handicap. I was grouchy and miserable.
Now I am finally feeling better. The pain cream and the Aleve worked liked magic. Though I am not completely upright I no longer resemble the left side of the evolution chart.
The eclipse last night was awesome in the true definition of the word. I watched it all from the front of my house where I had an unobstructed view as the moon darkened. I was mesmerized when the blood moon appeared and lit up the sky. It was if the moon and the sky around it had been painted with water colors.
Today is the loveliest of days, sunny and warm. Rain is due the next few days, but it will be welcomed as we haven’t seen much rain since the summer began. Besides, this has been such a spectacular fall I can’t begrudge Mother Nature a bit of rain.
We used to iron the colored leaves between pieces of waxed paper. I didn’t understand why it happened. I just knew the wax paper kept the colors alive. I’d keep the leaves on my bureau as keepsakes. Sometimes I’d even use one as a bookmark. I think the bright red was my favorite color but the yellow was close behind. We’d pick the leaves up our way home from school and put them between the pages of our books so they wouldn’t get wrinkled. The single ones on the sidewalk were the best as the ones in the piles along the curbsides would crumble.
I could hardly wait to get home and change into play clothes. At the kitchen table, now transformed into a craft table, my mother would turn on the iron then tear off pieces of wax paper for us to use. I remember gliding the iron back and forth across the paper, and I remember when the leaves were captured by the melting wax. Every one was beautiful.
Categories: Musings
Tags: beautiful day, blood moon, eclipse, evolution chart, Igor, painful back, Quasimodod, wax paper and leaves', yellows and reds
Comments: 4 Comments
September 27, 2015
The morning is warm, but the house is still nighttime cold. The sun was so pleasant I sat outside for a while then with great resolve went inside to brave the chill of the house. The animals were huddled beside me when I woke up. If this had been winter, the furnace would have gone on triggered by the low temperature.
I’ve decided I am stuck in a rut, not an unpleasant rut but a rut nonetheless. This last week I stayed home most of the time by cramming all four of my errands into a single day. The reason for this inactivity is a new book. It was slow reading at first, but not anymore so I read and keep reading. Every now and then I take a nap then I read again. Last night I was in bed well before midnight but didn’t turn the light off until 1:30. I kept telling myself I’ll finish this chapter then go to sleep. That went on for several chapters. Today I’ll finish my book when maybe I can rejoin the world. (In case you’re wondering: The Nature of the Beast: A Chief Inspector Gamache novel.)
Losing myself in a book is one of my favorite ways to spend time. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. I devour books sometimes reading them in one sitting, one very long sitting well into the night and into the next morning. I used to hide my books when I was in school. I’d pretend to be reading the textbook but instead was caught up in a mystery or a suspense novel smaller than the textbook so easily hidden between the pages. In biology class we read the text a lot. Among many I finished The House of the Seven Gables during that class. I never once got caught. I’m thinking I looked intensely interested in my text.
I remember my mother reading Treasure Island to my brother and me. That novel whetted my appetite for more. I think I’ve read most of Stevenson’s books, but Treasure Island will always be my favorite. I am so grateful my mother gave us a love of reading. What a wonderful gift!
Categories: Musings
Tags: Chief Inspector Gamache, cold house, cold night, hiding in the textbook, late night, lovely morning, reading, reading in school, rut
Comments: 10 Comments
September 26, 2015
The morning is again lovely with a strong breeze and a wonderfully bright sun. When I went to get the papers, I sat on the front steps a while to check out the neighborhood and to let the sun wash over and warm me. The leaves were rustling and the chimes in the backyard were ringing every now and then when the breeze was the strongest. The sound of the chimes is sweet. I finally went back inside drawn by the thought of my first cup of coffee.
We never had fresh orange juice. My mother always bought it frozen in the can. I can still remember how much of an ordeal it was to get the juice to the drinking stage. First you had to open both ends of the can to slide out the glob of frozen juice. The silver hand can opener sometimes cut not just the top but also the sides of the can making it harder to get the tops off. More often than not one of the tops would fall into the pitcher with the frozen juice. When digging it out, you had to be careful as it was easy to cut your finger on the sharp edges. I know from experience. We never had the foresight to take the can out of the freezer and leave it on the counter to let the juice melt. Come to think of it we probably didn’t have the patience either. I remember holding the pitcher under hot water to help along the melting, and we’d use a spoon to smash the glob into smaller pieces so it would melt quicker. When it was finally melted enough by my mother’s standards, we’d run the cold water until it was as cold as it could be from the faucet then make the juice.
We went through a Tang phase for a while because John Glenn and the Gemini astronauts drank it. Besides, it was easy to throw a few teaspoons in water then stir and drink. There was no can opener, waiting or hot water baths before drinking it. The only problem was it really didn’t taste all that good.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Bolgatanga, canned orange juice, chilly, chimes, hand can opener, hot water melting, lovely day, rustling leaves, sunny
Comments: 17 Comments
September 25, 2015
Fall weather has taken hold. The days are sunny and warm while the nights are chilly, even cold. I put on a sweatshirt when I woke up this morning. The house was 67˚. If this were winter, my heat would be blasting. I have errands today, and I’m glad because it is a lovely day to be out and about.
When I was young, the nun would pass out papers with outlines of leaves for us to color. In those days the points of the crayons got blunt which make staying in the lines difficult. You had to attack the leaf with the side of the crayon, not where the point used to be. My leaves were red and yellow. I think everyone’s leaves were red and yellow. I remember carrying my treasure home and how proud I was of my art work. I especially remember how much my mother loved those leaves. She made me feel like a real artist and never did mention I went out of the lines.
Crayola crayons were the best of all. I’d get a box to go back to school and a bigger box, the wonderful 48 brilliant colors with the built in sharpener, in my Christmas stocking. When I was really young, I just called the colors red, blue or green. To differentiate, I’d just say light blue or dark red. I didn’t know names like cerulean or turquoise blue. Raw sienna totally threw me. There were so many reds you couldn’t keep track. Light red, dark red and just plain red weren’t enough. There was brick red and Indian red and maroon, my dark red’s real name.
I had a certain artistic style. The yellow sun always had rays coming out from the whole circle. Girls had turned up hair and boys just had a little on the top. Their hair was always brown. I’d put a skirt on the girls which looked liked a funnel. The boys just had stick legs. I don’t know why I didn’t add pants. My flowers were petals of different colors and each had a long green stem coming from the green grass. The trees had bare branches and were almost stick figures.
I never did get good at drawing. I suspect that if I were given a 64 pack of crayons, I’d start with a bright yellow sun with rays extending from the whole circle. It wouldn’t be lemon yellow or green yellow or orange yellow. Nope, mine would just be plain old yellow.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 67˚, chilly nights, colored leaves, Crayola crayons, crayons, lemon yellow or green yellow or orange yellow., warm days, young
Comments: 8 Comments
September 24, 2015
A gorgeous day today with temperatures in the mid 70’s, lots of sun and a northern breeze chilly on the back of my neck. Grace and I went to the dump this morning, and it was nearly deserted. I guess Thursday is not a popular dump day.
When the breeze blows, I can hear the rustling sounds of the leaves on the trees and of the few which have fallen on the grass, victims of the wind rather than the season. We are still far away from changing colors and the baring of the trees. Today is more of summer than fall.
My dance card is empty until Sunday. I guess I’m stuck doing the wash, a bit of ironing and changing my bed. The ironing is dinner napkins which tend to get really wrinkly even in the dryer. I have a small board I can fit on the table and iron while I watch TV. I save all the napkins until I get a large enough number to make ironing worth while. At last count I had ten.
Cats are tricky creatures. Yesterday morning Maddie never appeared for our morning greeting. I called her by name and made that lip sound cats seem to like but still no Maddie. I got worried so I checked all her favorite haunts on this floor then went upstairs and looked in the eaves, under beds and in closets in case I had locked her in. All the while I kept making that sound, still no Maddie. Fern, from her perch on the couch, stared at me as if I were crazy. Gracie followed me. I went upstairs again and pulled the guest beds out from the wall in case I had missed her way in the back where under the bed is the darkest. No Maddie. I came back downstairs worried about her and wondering where else I could look. I didn’t have to look anywhere. Maddie was standing on the table in the den. I patted her and scratched by her tail though I really wanted to wring her neck. I swear she was chuckling
Categories: Musings
Tags: 70's, beautiful day, cats, dump run, empty dance card, hiding, ironing, missing cat, rustling leaves
Comments: 11 Comments
September 22, 2015
I would have guessed today is cooler than it is if I hadn’t gone outside. The view from my window is of a dark, cloudy day with a breeze strong enough to ruffle leaves and sway the tops of trees and smaller branches. It is definitely a long sleeve day, maybe even a sweatshirt day.
Fern, Gracie and I slept in this morning. They must have been cold as they were right next to me, Fern on one side, Gracie on the other. I hated to get up as they had to move when I did. When I patted Fern good morning, I could feel the warmth of her fur on the side where she had leaned against me. Cats do like being cozy.
I have started this third paragraph several times and not been happy with any of them. That happens sometimes. My mind doesn’t settle too deeply on any one thing. It stays in the shallow end. Even the papers today gave me little pleasure. I did finish the crossword and the cryptogram, but it was only in the sports pages where I could find some optimism and even that was threaded a bit. The Trump quotes had me cursing out loud. I didn’t count the numbers of assaults and murders reported in the metro section but thumbed right pass those stories. Business had the story of the peanuts and salmonella and VW’s fake air tests. Even the Cape had a murder, a body was found at one of the rest areas. The safest sections to read were the weather and the comics.
I just looked out the window, and the sun is shining. It sneaked in while I was complaining. It seems it might be a nice day after all.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Clouds, dark day, dogs on beds, murders and assaults, pessimism, ruffled leaves, salmonella, shallow end, sun, swaying branches, Trump, warmer than it looks, weather and the comics
Comments: 14 Comments
September 21, 2015
Last night was cold, not chilly but downright cold. This week will be cool every day and cold at night, hints of the season to come. My windows were all shut last night, and I was warm and cozy huddled under the blankets. Today I’m wearing a long sleeve shirt. I can’t remember the last time I wore one.
My lawn is cluttered with fallen leaves and bunches of pine needles. The flowers are just about gone, their colors fading away. I always miss color the most when winter comes. It is a drab season. Christmas is winter’s only salvation. It brings light and color back but only for a short while, never long enough. Last year the thought of winter’s darkness returning was too much so I decided to keep color alive. I left two strands of colored lights wrapped around the deck rail. They have been lit every night since Christmas, and every night I marvel at the colors and how brightly they shine. It is the one spot winter doesn’t dim.
I’m getting the urge to bake, something I haven’t done in a while. I snip recipes and save them in a bulging folder. The recipes are in no order so I go through them one at a time looking for the perfect recipe for my mood or for the occasion. My friend is coming over tomorrow afternoon for a few drinks and I’ll make a couple of appetizers. I have been through the file and have three possibilities. I’m leaning towards roasted figs and prosciutto as one of them then maybe a charcuterie as the second. I bought a honeycomb a bit back and I think it would be perfect with the meat and the cheese. I guess I’ve made my choices. Next I’ll make my list.
I enjoy making dishes I’ve never made before. I’ve been lucky: nobody has ever spit any out or been rushed to the hospital. Most times the food disappears, and many times I get asked for the recipes. I always give them. I consider that the highest of compliments.
Categories: Musings
Tags: baking, blankets, Cheese, cold nights, colored lights, cool days, drab season., fading flowers, fallen leaves, long sleeves, meats, pine needles, recipe file, toasted figs
Comments: 4 Comments
September 20, 2015
Today is dark and damp with the humidity at 80˚. It rained for all of three minutes, stopped for a long while then rained again for a few minutes. I think that will be the weather for the day, on and off rain. I have no urge to do anything constructive except take my shower which I suppose could be construed as constructive.
Tonight my friends and I are going out to dinner, a celebratory dinner for my friend’s birthday. I’m looking forward to the festivities.
My memory drawers are so filled I can’t even close some of them. Momentous events and whole experiences fill most drawers, but my memory drawers also save picture memories, single snapshots, and I sometimes wonder why. I remember my fourth grade lunch box was red plaid. I don’t remember any other lunch boxes. I have no memories of my school shoes, but I remember my sneakers, my play shoes. My favorite pair of dungarees had a flannel lining. The cuff had to be rolled once as the pants were a bit long. I was young and the waist of those pants was elastic, no snaps, no buttons. I remember one part of our walk to church early Christmas morning. It was still dark. I remember walking on the sidewalk and across the railroad tracks but that’s all. Arriving at church and the walk home are lost somewhere way back in one of those drawers. I can close my eyes perfectly see the cloakroom outside my first grade classroom. I remember the thick, painted walls in the rectory cellar where I spent my third grade. From high school, I remember where my freshman locker was, and I remember a before school practice for one of the Christmas pageants. I was sitting in the middle of about the third row. Once I got detention for talking on the stairs, one step away from the cafeteria where I was allowed to talk. I know exactly where that happened. I can even see the nun turn and tell me I had detention, but I don’t remember who the nun was.
In Philadelphia, at Peace Corps staging, we were together for about 5 days before leaving for Ghana. I remember standing in line for check-in. I remember sitting on the rug on the top floor with my back to the wall and reading The Naked Ape. Why I was on the top floor and not in my room escapes me. I don’t remember leaving for Ghana. I do remember after a stop for fuel in Madrid my seat belt got stuck and I couldn’t get it unstuck so I didn’t wear it for take-off from Madrid or for landing in Ghana.
Memories are so many things. Some makes us nostalgic, other makes us sad, some fill us with wonder. I always think the best ones keep those we love close to us whether they are here or not.
Categories: Musings
Tags: cloak room, damp, dark day, dungarees, fourth grade, high school locker, humidity, lazy day, memory drawers, picture memories, seat belt, single snapshots, sneakers, third grade, walking to church
Comments: 10 Comments
September 19, 2015
Ditto yesterday’s weather as it is still hot and humid today. I put the AC on in my bedroom last night and today I may go full house as I can feel the dampness from the humidity.
My next door neighbor is having a seventh birthday party for her son, and I am going to help. We had planned it together on Monday, and the plan is nearly complete. A bouncy house has been inflated in her backyard. Blue and white balloons are strung along the deck rail. She has sent her husband for cupcakes, helium balloons and trinkets for the kids’ bags, and I have sent over my hot dog machine. I just have to wrap his gift. I hope he doesn’t mind Christmas paper as that’s all I seem to have.
More than not I leave my bed unmade. My mother always made our beds when we were kids. It was like the shoemaker and the elves. I’d leave my unmade bed in the morning and come home to a made bed. It was a miracle! In Ghana my bed got made everyday by Thomas who worked for me. Now I find leaving the bed unmade is healthy. It seems that, “Something as simple as leaving a bed unmade during the day can remove moisture from the sheets and mattress so the mites will dehydrate and eventually die.”I knew there were mites but it still makes me a bit queasy to think the average bed could be home to up to 1.5 million house dust mites. I warn you to stop here if you get a bit wonky when it comes to bugs as the next piece of information is totally disgusting, “The bugs, which are less than a millimetre long, feed on scales of human skin and produce allergens which are easily inhaled during sleep.”That almost sounds like a plot from the B science fiction movies I love. You go to bed healthy and get eaten as you sleep. A clean skeleton is all that’s found in the morning. It seems I now have a good defense for not making my bed. It is for health reasons.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bed mites, birthday party, bouncy house, feeding on human skin, hot and humid, shoemaker and the elves, unmade bed
Comments: 8 Comments
