Archive for the ‘Musings’ category
March 27, 2015
Home again, home again jiggety-jig! My connection problems are a thing of the past. Happy, happy!
The weather is getting colder. I was lulled into a false sense of spring when we actually reached 50˚ on Wednesday, but Mother Nature is now cackling and rubbing her hands in glee at having duped me. They, as in weathermen, are saying possible snow showers on Saturday so spring is still in the wings.
It is raining again today, and the dampness chills the bones. Francisca and I, however, are intrepid souls, and are going out when I finish here to a few shops and to the Zion Union Heritage Museum.
I give my two friends an Easter basket and have already bought trinkets for them and am hoping for a couple of more when I shop today. Some are useful while others are just whimsical. The candy I’ll buy next week. I think I’d be too tempted to eat it if it were already around the house. We, as kids, always had inexpensive chocolate. We didn’t care. Candy was candy. Now, I buy it all at the candy store.
Our Easter baskets were the best. There was candy: a chocolate rabbit which was a tradition and a necessity, jelly beans which always tasted the same no matter the color, big, hard colored beans with white in the middle and the filler candy like a little rabbit or a chocolate egg. Small toys were also in the basket. I remember yo-yos, paddle balls, a box of crayons, an Easter coloring book, a stuffed animal, usually a small rabbit, and even a pail and shovel. The grass which covered the bottom was always plastic and the rabbit with missing eaten ears used to stick to the grass. The adult me thinks it sort of gross, but the kid me didn’t care and just pulled the grass off rabbit.
Easter will come as it must, but it will not be in spring unless all of the vestiges of winter disappear.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 50˚, chocolate rabbit, cold again, Coloring book, Easter baskets, jelly beans, paddle ball, plastic grass, Snow, yoyo
Comments: 10 Comments
March 26, 2015
I apologize for not writing today. It was way out of my control. I could not get on-line this morning around 10:30. I was on-line earlier so I was perplexed as to what had happened. I waited as sometimes Comcast does a bit of maintenance and shuts down for a while. By 1, I knew it was a problem for me; of course, I called Comcast and spoke to a variety of people. It was person number 4 who gave me a way to check to see if it was the router or the modem. I was rooting for the router (good alliteration) as they would have had to send me a modem. It was the router.
To make an entire afternoon a short story, I went to Radio Shack and bought a router. My MAC would not recognize the start-up disc but I was able to click something to chat with a Linksys tech. He and I chatted and he \gave me two pages of instructions as I had to reconfigure the router. The first time didn’t work, my mistake. The second time did. IT was 4:30.
I was patient and barely cursed during the whole afternoon.
Today has been a foggy day. It was warm, and there is still snow so the fog swirled around the trees and, when coupled with the gray sky, seemed to surround us. It rained in the afternoon, a bit of rain then heavy rain then back to a bit. After the rain the fog returned. Gracie and I were out doing some errands. My company, Francisca, was gone the whole day selling her Bolga baskets and missed a ride by the ocean in the fog, one of the best of all reasons to live on the cape.
Sorry about the rant today and the short post. I promise I’ll do better tomorrow.
Categories: Musings
Tags: a million steps, Comcast, fog, interact access, rain, Router
Comments: 14 Comments
March 24, 2015
No weather report today. Day after day is always the same. It’s depressing. The only bright spots are the large numbers of green shoots in my front garden. They give me a bit of hope.
When I was a kid, we lived in what we called the project. The houses were all duplexes, one side the mirror image of the other. Living there was only open to veterans and their families. Kids were everywhere. We first lived around the small rotary which the last of the duplexes circled. Below those duplexes was the field surrounded by woods. A long fence in the backyards separated our houses from the privately owned houses behind us. I used to climb the gate by the parking lot as it was a shortcut to my aunt’s house. I never once, in all the year’s we lived there, see the gate opened. No car ever used it. No car ever really used the parking lot either. Most cars were in front of the houses. My dad always parked his on the side road as our house was on a corner with the hill on one side.
Most times nothing much happened in the project. In the summer you could, now and then, hear people yelling at each other through the opened windows. We always listened. At supper time, mothers yelled out the doors for their kids. Once there was a fight between two men who were neighbors. I remember one man was a photographer who took pictures for the local newspaper. I don’t remember who the other man was. I do know the fight started because the wife of the photographer was German. He had met her while he was in the service on duty in Germany. This was in the mid 1950’s, and most of the men in the neighborhood had served in World War II. The guy I don’t remember called the wife a Nazi and a few more choice names and then the fight started. They rolled and wrestled on the grassy hill, and I remember the photographer’s sweater vest was pulled over his head so he couldn’t see to defend himself. Everybody was out watching. I don’t remember how the fight was ended. I figure neighbors must have grabbed the fighters and separated them as I would have remembered the police coming.
That fight was the talk of the neighborhood for the longest time. The men never spoke to each other again. The photographer and his wife and son eventually moved. That is the only time in my life I have seen adults physically attacking one another. Burned in my memory is the image of the two men rolling down the hill trying to punch one another. I remember the sweater vest had the argyle pattern popular in the 50’s. The son of the photographer wore glasses.
It is strange what our memories hold on to and what is lost over time.
Categories: Musings
Tags: back gate, climbing the fence, depressing, dinner's ready, duplexes, field and woods, fight, green shoots, insults, name calling, parking lot, people yelling, police, project, same weather
Comments: 6 Comments
March 23, 2015
If I’d only looked out the window, I’d have thought sunny, warm day, and I’d be mostly wrong. The sunny part is right, it’s difficult to miss that one, but warm it isn’t. It is really cold, winter cold, hat and heavy coat cold. It was 23˚ this morning and will stay this way until Thursday when it will reach 50˚, but there’s a kicker. It will rain all day Thursday. It is like getting a beautifully wrapped gift which is empty when you open it.
As I get older, I get a bit grumpier and far less likely to abide extremes. Too cold-I’m complaining; too hot- I’m complaining; too much snow- massive complaining. We haven’t had much rain so I’m holding off on the complaining probably until Friday. Given I live alone, I complain but no one hears me except the dog, and I don’t get a lot of responses from her. She just wags her stub tail and hopes for a treat.
Being a kid was so much easier. I didn’t care if it was hot or cold or rainy. I’d wear the least amount of outside winter clothing I could and hope my mother wouldn’t catch me. Coming home from school in winter usually meant my hat was in my pocket, my coat was unbuttoned and my mittens were probably still in my sleeves. I just didn’t notice the cold. In summer, I didn’t notice the heat. Even the hottest days didn’t stop me from playing softball or horseshoes or walking to and from the pool on the other side of town. I didn’t have a fan or an air conditioner at night. I was exhausted from the day, and that was enough.
Even in Ghana I accepted the world as it was. Complaining seemed discourteous. I was a guest. The lack of rain for months in the dry season was just an opportunity to say, “Looks like rain,” to my friends or for them to make the same observation to me. It wasn’t going to rain, and we chuckled at the humor of it all. Day after day would be over 100˚, but we’d find ways to adapt. When it finally rained just about every day, we never had an umbrella or a raincoat. We just got wet. The cold nights in December were wonderful, and we burrowed under wool blankets, happy for the sensation of feeling cold.
I miss the days of snow angels, of catching snowflakes with my tongue and of building snowmen with twig arms, but I’ll just wax nostalgic and stay inside warm and cozy. I still love puddles and seldom pass one by without whacking it with my feet and watching the water spray. I guess there are some things you just don’t outgrow.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 23˚, complaining, exhausted at night, freezing cold, Ghana's climate, grumpy, no fan, no mittens or hat, not noticing the weather, sunny day, too cold, too hot, too much snow
Comments: 14 Comments
March 22, 2015
I have not escaped winter’s wrath. My head aches, my throat is scratchy and my cough scares the dog. Luckily I have a doctor’s appointment this week. Unluckily I am entertaining. It is difficult to be gracious and welcoming when your only wish is to be in bed under the warm covers; however, I will rise to the occasion. Besides, that’s what home restaurant delivery is for.
The snow disappeared but the cold stayed. Getting the newspaper was a quick out and in. I didn’t even take time to admire the morning, but I did notice the birds singing.
March has always been one of those months when little happens. It isn’t spring yet except for the date and it isn’t really winter either as the season is losing its strength. Every warm day gives us hope then winter rushes back in and the nights are freezing.
This is a rant about things I notice on TV. Newscasters always either carry tablets or have them on the desk in front of them, but they never once look at them. During winter you seldom see the huffs of people’s breathing when they’re outside in the cold air. The cups of take-out coffee are always empty. Gibbs on NCIS has yet to drink a cup of coffee. He puts the cup to his mouth and pretends to drink, but the cup is never heavy and the coffee is never hot. On Rizzoli and Isles they mispronounce the names of Massachusetts’ cities even though the show supposedly takes place in Boston. They ride on highways which don’t exist in this state. On the Big Bang Theory nobody really eats the take-out. They toy with their food though once in a while Howard takes a bite of his lunchtime salad. I get the no eating as too many takes would mean too much food, but they could make it a bit more realistic. Really, how times does one dish of food need to be moved about with a fork?
I can watch the worst movies on the syfy channel. I loved Sharknato as ridiculous as it was, but it was intended to be that way. I just suspend disbelief, and it all works out for me, but for programs which are meant to be real life, I scoff at the little things. They drive me crazy.
Categories: Musings
Tags: cold, Cough, empty coffee cups, Gibbs, March, not eating on TV, sick, spring and winter, Syfy channel, tablets, take-out coffee, toying with food, TV, winter's wrath
Comments: 10 Comments
March 21, 2015
Today is a down day for me. Last night it snowed about 2 inches, and it is snowing right now. Earlier this morning, it was large, wet flakes but now the flakes are smaller and more apt to accumulate. The grass I could see is now buried. The tree branches have their layers of snow back. The winter seems endless, and I am well beyond my tolerance point.
Gracie and I are going to the dump later. I figure it will be fairly empty on a day like today. After the dump I will do nothing and continue my nothing pattern into tomorrow. This was a busy week for me. I don’t like busy weeks.
When I think back to winter Saturdays when I was a kid, they were always filled. The snow was fun. Our sleds got quite the workout all winter long. Every new snow fall meant the roads were covered, and the hill was ours. There was also the matinée. It was about a twenty-minute walk uptown to the movie theater, but we never thought about the time or distance. We walked most places all winter. Late Saturday afternoons were for inside and playing board games on the living room rug. We’d lie close to the board, each of us usually on one side of it. We played Monopoly, but it was never a favorite of mine. Finishing it usually took far too long, and it had little excitement except for hoping not to fall on a property with a hotel. We played card games like flap Jack, crazy eights and the most boring game of all, war. Sometimes, when I’d been outside too long and was still cold, I’d get comfy under my covers and read. I always had a book. Trips to the library were usually once a week, sometimes after school but mostly on Saturdays. I think Saturday was my favorite day of the week back then. When people ask me if I like being retired, I tell them it’s like every day is Saturday.
Categories: Musings
Tags: board games, card games, Crazy Eights, endless winter, layers of snow on the branches, matinee, Monopoly, Sledding, sloth day, snowing, the week was busy, wet flakes
Comments: 13 Comments
March 20, 2015
Happy first day of spring!
My friends and I went to the beach, as we do every first day of spring, to see the sunrise. The sky was spectacular colored as it was in the deepest pinks and reds in bands over the jetty. The low tide was lower than I can ever remember. The ocean was so still it could have been a lake on a warm summer morning. We heard seagulls squawking as they flew over. It was cold but bearable as there was no wind. The sand was rock hard as we neared the ocean. We watched the top arc of the sun appear over the rocks. It was huge and the brightest of yellows. We stayed until the sun had totally risen awing at its color and beauty and taking pictures all the while, but then the cold finally got to us. We went to the car where we sang our traditional welcoming songs to spring, Morning Has Broken and The Red, Red Robin. We finished our first day of spring festivities with breakfast and hot cups of coffee to warm the innards. It was a most wonderful morning.
I went back to bed for a couple of hours when I got home. When I woke up, the sky was grey and the sun had disappeared, probably exhausted from its spectacular entrance this morning. I thought how lucky I had been to see the sunrise and to see those colors framed by the blue sky and a few puffy clouds.
We will be having some snow tonight. It seems Old Man Winter is being recalcitrant and continuing to overstay his welcome. It is well past his time to pack up and leave, but he refuses and still lingers, cursed and unwanted. Leave, Old Man Winter, leave. Spring is here and welcomed with open arms.
Categories: Musings
Tags: first day of spring, grey skies, low tide, Morning Has Broken, Old Man Winter, out to breakfast, reds and pinks of the sky, seagulls squawking, squawking seagulls, still ocean, sunrise, When the Red Red Robin Comes
Comments: 12 Comments
March 19, 2015
Last night my friends and I sat around the table enjoying each other’s company. We also shared a wonderful dinner, my St. Patrick’s Day corned beef and cabbage, a day late maybe but still a tasty dinner to celebrate the occasion. Last night was also bitterly cold. Today is sunny and warmer, but it is in no way warm enough to welcome spring.
The paper today said this winter and the first two months of 2015 were the hottest on record globally, with a chilly east coast sticking out like a cold thumb in a toastier world. Yup, that would be me.
This morning I could go back in time. On TV I had my choice of Daniel Boone, Dragnet, McHale’s Navy or Quincy. All I was missing was a bowl of cereal, my Rice Krispies, a seat on the floor in front of the TV, and my mother telling me to move away from the screen or I’d go blind.
Yesterday the window on my back door got steamy while dinner was cooking. I was reminded of the kitchen in the duplex where we lived until my sister was born. The kitchen was small, almost a galley kitchen. At one end of it was a window and the table and chairs were in front of the window. Every night my mother cooked supper and every night that window got steamy. I’d sit at the table and use my sleeve to clear the window so I could look outside. I’d watch my mother cook. She’d stand over the stove stirring whatever was in the pots and would sometimes open the oven to check on the meat. I know potatoes were in one of those pots. We always had potatoes.
Today is an empty dance card. I’m glad as I’m tired from the last couple of days of kitchen duty, of setting the table, peeling veggies and cleaning up after dinner. All that’s left for today is to empty the dishwasher and take a nap.
Categories: Musings
Tags: cooking dinner, corned beef and cabbage, Disney's Zorro, Dragnet, freezing cold, McHale's Navy, old timeTV, potatoes, Quincy, steamy windows
Comments: 10 Comments
March 17, 2015
We’re back to rainy and bleak. We’re also back to cold as it will get down to 18˚ tonight. This melt and freeze cycle is creating potholes all over the roads. I’ve been lucky so far as I’ve seen the holes in time to avoid them. Some people weren’t so lucky as a few hub caps are lying near the biggest holes.
What’s left of the snow is ugly. More of it will disappear because of the rain. All the roads are finally clear of the icy ruts. I’m just hoping the combination of the clear roads, rain and 18˚ won’t cause black ice.
My mother, father, two aunts, my 80-year-old grandfather and I visited Ireland together. It was my second trip there. It was the first for everyone else. I loved traveling with my parents and my grandfather was a trooper. He kept right up with us. One aunt always went with the flow; however, the other aunt I would have sold to the Irish Travellers whose caravans we saw throughout Ireland. She had a couple of heavy suitcases filled with enough clothes for an around the world trip. Every night my dad had to haul them out of the van to her room and then back to the van in the morning. We generally stayed only one night in each spot, usually a B&B, so why she needed both suitcases I never understood. I did ask and she said she didn’t know we would be stopping night by night. She thought we’d stay in one place. That still didn’t explain the amount of clothes and why both suitcases every night. I suggested she bring in what she needed just for the night and the next day, and she got huffy. That aunt is only five months younger than I am; she is number 8, the baby of my mother’s family. That gave her a strange sense of entitlement. Huffy should have been her middle.
My father loved boiled dinners, corned beef and cabbage for those of you living outside of New England. My mother would make the dinner a couple of times a year and always on St. Patrick’s Day. My favorite memory is one dinner when the potatoes disappeared. My mother was filling my dad’s plate with the carrots, cabbage, onions and meat. She used her spoon to hunt for the potatoes. There were none. She saw a couple of lumps of what might have been potatoes floating but that was the only sighting. When she brought dinner to my dad, he wanted to know right away where the potatoes, his favorites, were. My mother admitted she thought they disintegrated. My dad rushed out and hunted through the pan. He didn’t find any either. It became a family legend: the year of no potatoes.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day
Categories: Musings
Tags: 18˚, black ice, bleak, Boiled Dinner, corned beef and cabbage, heavy suit, Ireland, Irish Travellers, onions, potatoes, potholes, rainy, St. Patrick's Day, ugly snow
Comments: 14 Comments
March 16, 2015
Yesterday Boston broke the record for most snow ever in a winter. There were no celebrations, no sparklers or fireworks, just groaning and complaining. Snow stopped being pretty about 13 or 14 inches ago. It snowed here as well, and the night was cold with a howling wind. I was lying in bed listening and thinking in black and white about Dracula or the Wolfman.
The morning was busy starting with the dentist at ten. It was an interesting experience. First I had a different hygienist then came the coup de foudre. The new hygienist’s chair was heated and had three different massage settings. It was wonderful. My back felt better and my teeth were whiter.
I also stopped in a couple of other places for St. Patrick’s Day stuff, and I wanted to check to see if the store had cut up turnip. They did not but did cut it for me. Now I just have to skin it. Tomorrow will be the rest of the shopping.
I went to St. Patrick’s Grammar School so we always had March 17th as a holiday. The public schools in my town didn’t have the day off, but those in Suffolk County which included Boston did. It was for Evacuation Day which celebrates the date when the British troops evacuated Boston during the American Revolutionary War. Nobody really calls it that. They all call it St. Patrick’s Day.
When I was a kid, I walked everywhere and was never late. In winter I got to school in the morning with enough time to freeze while waiting in the school yard for the bell. At the movies I ended up eating half my candy before the cartoon even started. In high school I’d wait for the bus, and if it was raining, my hair and shoes always got soaked. I used to tell my students that punctuality is the sign of a civilized society. They were never impressed.
I don’t like waiting for people who are late. It seems as if they don’t care about keeping me waiting. They always have an excuse.
If I’m alone and not expected anywhere, time doesn’t matter. I move at my own pace. The day is broken into activities, not hours. I don’t even wear a watch.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Dracula, Evacuation Day, howling wind, punctuality, Snow, snow record, St. Patrick's Day stuff, turnip, walking everywhere, Wolfman
Comments: 6 Comments
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