Archive for the ‘Musings’ category
September 22, 2014
Summer is busy packing. Gone are days on the deck, the flowers in the front garden, movie nights, hotdogs and burgers on the grill and the bright, warm sun. Fall is impatiently waiting in the wings for its big arrival tonight. Colorful leaves, crisp mornings, mums, pumpkins in all sizes and shapes, gourds and bales of hay are waiting their turn. Warm days and cool nights are already here. At 10:29 tonight fall is official.
My windows are open as summer is leaving with a flourish. It will be in the mid 70’s today. The day is lovely and smells of flowers.
When I was a kid, the start of school was the start of the year for me. It meant the end of carefree days, bike riding, bare feet and playing outside after dark. New rules applied. The street light turning on meant the end of playing outside for the day. Homework had to be done, and we were forced to go to bed early. Mornings started all too soon. Breakfast was first, then getting dressed for school then leaving with book bag and lunch in hand.
The school day never changed. We had the same subjects at the same time except art and music which were random and not every day. In music we learned songs like My Grandfather’s Clock. In art we used colored pencils or crayons. We made cards for our parents for every holiday. I loved art but I was horrible. I never moved beyond stick figures. In music I couldn’t carry a tune, but I enjoyed singing. The academics were my strongest suit.
Even when I was young, I thought fall was the prettiest season. Front steps had pumpkins and sometimes sheaves of hay. The red and yellow leaves were glorious. On Saturdays we could smell the burning leaves and see the smoke from so many fires billow and curl into the air. Fall was a feast for the senses.
Categories: Musings
Tags: early to bed, end of summer' mums, fall, going to school, gourds, pumpkims, red leaves, school nights, streetlights on, warm days and cool nights, yellow leaves
Comments: 19 Comments
September 21, 2014
The day is wonderfully warm but cloudy. A bright sun would have been a nice touch. The breeze is strong. Pine branches are swaying, and the leaves are billowing. My neighborhood is quiet, Sunday quiet, the way I remember Sundays used to be.
Today I have nothing that needs doing. The week was a busy one so I’ll just relax in sloth mode. I’m not even going to get dressed. I earned today.
I have three dresses. Two are for summer and the third is for winter. I used to wear dresses to work every day, even in Ghana, but now I seldom wear them. They are reserved for weddings and events which happen in fancy venues. Those events tend to be special and have a dress code, unmentioned but expected.
I am drawing a blank today. Nothing comes to mind. I did think about pizza and ribs earlier, and I have no idea why. They seemed strange topics to pop into my head, but they did remind me of my mother who used to make those English muffin pizzas and freeze them for later, for snacks. She also made crabbies on English muffins and would serve them on game nights. As for the ribs, I have no idea where they came from.
My parents didn’t have much money when I was growing up, but I didn’t know that. Christmas was a wonder and under the tree was always filled with gifts. Every Easter we got new clothes. For Halloween my mother made our costumes just as my friends’ mothers made theirs. Store bought costumes had no originality, no imagination and were sort of ugly with plastic masks held on by an easily broken elastic. Sunday dinners were always special. We could count on sort of a roast, mashed potatoes, gravy and veggies. That is still my favorite dinner. Last night my friend served a roast chicken, tons of mashed potatoes, gravy and carrots. I was in heaven.
Categories: Musings
Tags: billowing leaves, breeze, Dresses, grave, mashed potatoes, Pizza, Roasts, sloth day, summer dresses, Sunday dinner, Sunday quiet, veggies, warm day
Comments: 10 Comments
September 20, 2014
Being under the covers did no good. They were too skimpy and the house was too cold. I jumped out of bed, put on my slippers, my sweatshirt and my around the house pants then ran downstairs and turned on the heat. It was 62˚. I got my coffee and warmed my hands around the cup. Soon enough the house was cozy.
When I was a kid, I could make something out of nothing. Life was an adventure. A walk became a trek or a safari. The train tracks were a trip into the unknown. The woods were deep and harbored creatures which shied from humans, but we knew they were there. The old fallen tree trunk was a spaceship or even a pirate ship. A tree branch was a sword. We followed paths we’d never been on before. They were narrow and overhung with branches you had to hold and push aside. If you let go of the branch, the person behind you got whacked. That was never a good idea.
My life is still an adventure. I’ve been lucky in that way. I don’t see spaceships any more, but I have seen parts of the world I could never have imagined. I remember the house in Ecuador where Guinea pigs were running around then I found out they were a popular dish called cuy. The bus stopped in the Sierra Nevada mountains for lunch, and I had the best trout I have ever eaten. The other passengers pointed to it on the menu to make sure we ordered it. Sunsets give me pause everywhere. A starry sky is one of the most beautiful of all sights. I saw the Andes covered with snow. I saw bananas and pineapples growing. I have been to Africa.
When I was eleven, I vowed I’d see the world. I still have places to go, but I’m working on it. I love adventures.
Categories: Musings
Tags: adventure, Africa, cold morning, Ecuador, Guinea pigs, heat, imagination, pineapples and bananas, starry skies, sunny day, sunsets, the Andes, trout, woods
Comments: 10 Comments
September 19, 2014
Where are the cheers, the accolades, the parades? This has been my most productive week in a long time. I went off cape one night and was busy every day doing errands and chores. I even paid the dreaded bills. I feel so accomplished.
Fall is so much quieter than summer. Kids are in school so I don’t hear them playing outside any more. The lawns don’t get mowed as much. Nobody is out on their decks at nights. Windows are closed as the nights get downright cold. I always think of this time of year as a dress rehearsal for winter.
Today is dump day, and I need to go to the grocery store for just a few things.
The town where I grew up had a dump, but I never went there. The trash was picked up off the sidewalk by men in big trucks so there wasn’t any need for a dump run. My friend’s house was right near the dump, but it wasn’t what you’d expect living close to the dump because you couldn’t smell it. The dump wasn’t for household trash but for things like fridges and old furniture. The cape has no trash services, no trucks, no men hauling barrels. We all go to the dump or pay for private trash companies. The old dump had giant hills of trash. From the highway you could see the trash hills and the seagulls circling them hoping to find food. From way off you could smell the dump and you could hear the caws of the seagulls, noisy birds. You found a spot and you threw your trash bags. That was my father’s dump. He wouldn’t enjoy going to the dump much now. There are bins for trash and no trash can be loose. There is a huge line of recycle bins. There aren’t any seagulls.
Categories: Musings
Tags: accomplishments, busy days, dress rehearsal, dump runs, fall, parades, quiter days, smelly dumps
Comments: 12 Comments
September 18, 2014
The day is warm and sunny. It will hit 70˚. I guess summer is hoping for a grand exit. I’m heading for the deck after this, bringing my book and some bird seed. The feeders are all empty, the fault of the red spawn who is relentless. I think it is time to trap him and take him down cape or up cape. It doesn’t matter which, away is enough.
The Foodie Crawl was wonderful. We tasted food from many Mexican restaurants, an Ethiopian, Brazilian, Casey’s Bar and so many more. I tasted the best guacamole I’ve ever had and a blueberry dessert which was scrumptious. At Casey’s they gave us a chuck of chicken, a piece of sausage, a meatball and a piece of pizza to put them on. It was great pizza. At one stop I had green tomato gazpacho, a fried green tomato on top of greens with a champagne dressing and pulled pork. The food was served in small plastic cups, but every stop had at least two cups for us to try. I think I made it through 10 stops before I could eat no more. My sister managed two stops beyond mine. My back didn’t last so I sat on benches and sat down to eat if I could then I’d start walking again. We had a lot of fun and lots of great food so we decided we’d do it again next year and bring more people. The only down spot was when we got back to the car and found a parking ticket on the windshield.
As I was driving toward Boston, I noticed a few trees in their autumn reds. Two hawks were riding the thermals above the highway and over the trees. They glided in circles, their wings folded. I watched as long as I could.
I never won a Palmer Method medal. I thought I did the best circles, but I was wrong. My guess is it had to do with arm placement. I knew I wasn’t supposed to move my arm, just my hand when doing all the exercises, but I couldn’t keep it still. My arm went back and forth and up and down. In second grade I got spelling and religion ribbons for having 100% on both year-end tests. The ribbons had the subject written on the front and a pin on the back so they could be pinned on my blouse. They had to do.
Categories: Musings
Tags: autumn reds, East Summerville, Foodie Crawl, great day, great food, hawks, Mexican food, Palmer Method, parking ticket, Pizza, ribbon awards
Comments: 10 Comments
September 16, 2014
No jumping into the shower when I woke up this morning as the house was only 65˚. I actually turned on the heat until the house got to 68˚ then I took my shower. When I opened the doors later, outside was warmer than inside. Gracie and I stood together looking out the front door. It is a favorite perch of hers, but there is usually nothing to see. Once in a while a cat strolls across the street and Gracie goes crazy. Someone walks a dog and Gracie barks and jumps. She doesn’t like other dogs except for her friend Cody. I doubt Gracie appreciated it, but the morning smelled sweet, of flowers and cut grass. It will be 70˚ today according to the paper.
Tonight my sister and I are doing The East Somerville Foodie Crawl. We get to go from restaurant to restaurant tasting theirs wares. Many are ethnic including an African, South American and a few Mexican restaurants. One of the restaurants, Mount Vernon Restaurant and Pub, is where my father used to bring us, my mother, sister and I, for dinner when I’d visit for the weekend. They had a twin lobster special to which my dad was partial, actually so was I. We’ll stop there for memory’s sake.
I love connections. They prod the memory drawers. Once I went to a memorial mass for someone in East Boston. I was standing on the steps of the church when I looked across the street. All of a sudden I knew where I was. My great-grandmother and my grand-aunt used to live in a house facing the small park across from the church. I knew that house had narrow stairs going up to the second floor, and the kitchen was on the first floor. I thought of quarters as I always got one when I visited. My great-grandmother died when I was 10. She was 92.
When I drive down the road where there used to be train tracks, I remember the whistle and the clack of the train wheels on the rails. My grandparents lived down the street from those tracks, and I used to look out their front door to see the train. The tracks are gone, but the train-master’s house is still there. Because it is just a house now, I wonder if people notice it has a strange shape and hugs the track.
The long street I walked on back and forth from school for eight years has changed. Many of the houses are gone now, some replaced by apartments. The train tracks are long gone, but it is that old street of my childhood I remember best. I can’t help myself. When I drive it now, I think of what was and name out loud all the things that are gone.
Categories: Musings
Tags: cold morning, Mount Vernon Restaurant and Pub, sweet smelling air, The East Somerville Foodie Crawl, train tracks, train wheels, train whistles, warm day
Comments: 11 Comments
September 15, 2014
Last night was downright cold. When I went out earlier this morning, it was 57˚. The sun is wending its way to winter. Soon it will give us just light, not warmth, and that light is less and less and shorter and shorter each day. Before long the mornings will be dark and the nights will come early.
The leaves still wear their summer colors, but mums are front and center in all the farm stands and garden shops. The bright colors of summer flowers have been replaced by the muted colors of fall. I figure it is nature’s way of getting us ready for winter with its drab, colorless days. It is no wonder Christmas is always welcomed as a respite. Its colorful lights and red poinsettias light up even the darkest days.
I never really learned to cook until I was in my twenty’s. I just wasn’t interested. My mother made basic meals, nothing fancy, because that’s what we ate, and they were my father’s favorites. Give him mashed potatoes, red meat and canned asparagus for dinner and he’d be a happy man. The funny thing was if he didn’t see you adding different ingredients he never noticed the taste. According to him, garlic was limited to shrimp scampi, but the man ate a lot of garlic. He just didn’t know it.
My first foray into baking was in Ghana where I made sugar cookies at Christmas time. They were delicious, and I was amazed. I couldn’t believe I could actually make cookies. They were Christmas shapes with different colored sprinkles, compliments of my mother. I also made some pies. Even the crust was delicious. I never tried my hand at main dishes as there were few choices, especially for vegetables. My evening meals were sort of boring. It wasn’t until I got home that I tried cooking whole meals. One of my first triumphs was chicken Kiev. When the butter spurted as it was supposed to, I expected loud cheers and clapping at such an accomplishment. It didn’t happen, but I wasn’t deterred. I made my Indian curry for a crowd, and they all seconds. I made Chinese food and Greek food. I took my friends on a culinary trip around the world. I found out I could make almost anything taste good. I knew how Rocky felt standing triumphant on the steps of the Philadelphia Museum as I felt the same way. I just didn’t wear a watch cap and sweats.
Categories: Musings
Tags: boring dinners, chinese food, cold nights, cookies and pies, fading sunlight, fall's arrival, India curry, learning to cook, mums, muted colors
Comments: 4 Comments
September 14, 2014
The morning is again chilly. It is almost officially the fall so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. All the doors and windows are closed so I’m comfortable here on the couch even with bare feet. The red spawn was at the feeder this morning, but it ran away as soon as I got on the deck. The spawn knew the hose was next.
It was raining last night when I went to bed. It wasn’t a heavy rain but was enough for Gracie to get her business done quickly. She didn’t even go far enough into the yard to trip the sensor lights. She was back in the house almost immediately. I totally understand.
When I was a kid, TV was still bit of magic. I never questioned how Superman flew. I just knew he did, and he always flew to the same music. Glasses were the ultimate disguise. I knew Perry Mason would never lose. That didn’t bother me at all. Perry Mason was the hero. Poor Hamilton Burger was just hapless. Lieutenant Tragg always wore a fedora out side. I do remember Perry losing one, but he exonerated his client just as she was going to the electric chamber. Of course he did. I didn’t watch all the westerns. I did watch Roy and Dale, the Lone Ranger and Hopalong Cassidy. The whole family watched the Wild, Wild West. I remember Dobie Gillis, Sergeant Bilko and Joe Friday. We watched all the Quinn Martin productions. I remember the voice announcing at the beginning of each show,”A Quinn Martin Production.” The Invaders were one of my favorite shows. David Vincent went all over the country looking for people with weird, stuck out little fingers. By the end of each show, he had convinced another person to believe that aliens on Earth existed, that they were dangerous, and that he needed their help. The Fugitive was another QM production. Dr. Kimball is chased all over the country by Lieutenant Gerard. Kimball is really a good guy trying to find the real killer of his wife. He is hunting the one-armed man. Like David Vincent, Dr. Kimball was usually able to convince someone that he was innocent, and they usually help him getaway just before Gerard shows up. We all wanted him to find the one-armed man.
On Star Trek and Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, the crew leaned to the left or the right when their ships were fired upon. The camera moved with them. That was an old time special effect. I never made fun of it, never even questioned it, though I do chuckle a bit now.
Categories: Musings
Tags: cool morning, Perry Mason, Quinn Martin, rain, red spawn of Satan, Siperman, The Fugitive, The Invaders
Comments: 20 Comments
September 13, 2014
Today I am taking it easy, as if I don’t do that anyway. The cleaning of the cabinets on my to-do list is being shifted to tomorrow. Yesterday I moved the wrong way off the couch and twisted my back such that I couldn’t stand up. It took a while until I finally moaned and yelped my way vertical though it was tenuous as I had to hold on to anything I could so I could move forward. This morning I am much better, but I will not tempt the fates by doing any chores; however, I do need to get birdseed so an errand will be my sole accomplishment for the day.
At around four this morning I woke up because I was so cold. The window was open, and I only had the spread and the sheet to cover me. I did have two animals leaning against me, but they didn’t help a whole lot. I got up, easily I’m happy to say, grabbed the afghan and threw it on the bed. Gracie and Fern immediately chose their spots which didn’t include room for me, but I was determined. They got moved, I went back to bed under the afghan and was comfy and warm in no time. I fell back to sleep. The three of us slept until 9:45.
This morning I had a banana. Ever since I was young I have loved bananas. They went on my Rice Krispies, and I used to hunt for the slices with my spoon as they had a tendency to fall to the bottom of the bowl. They are a perfect fruit. In Ghana I could buy some right off the street and peel and eat and not worry about catching something. They are a boon to health and loaded with vitamin B. Bananas make a great bread. I am generally too impatient to wait until the bread cools so I slather a slice with butter while it is still warm. No fruit salad is complete without bananas. I don’t like pancakes, but if I did, I’d want banana pancakes. Banana cream pie is smooth and silky. A banana split has everything. It is served in a boat which gives it an epic proportion. It has three kinds of ice cream, a couple of toppings, whipped cream, nuts and cherries with stems. I was always partial to hot fudge sauce and usually caramel as my second choice. A finished banana split is a work of art. As crazy as the movie is, I like Woody Allen’s Bananas. I can sing the Chiquita Banana song, but I doubt my hips can gyrate in the same way. I do think the banana headpiece would look great on me. I have seen bananas growing. Big bunches of them hang from a palm type tree which isn’t a palm though some call it a banana palm. It gets confusing.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bad back, banana bread, banana split, banana trees, bananas, Chiquita Banana, cold night, easy day, errand, hot fudge sauce, tempting the fates, Woody Allen's Bananas
Comments: 16 Comments
September 12, 2014
The morning is a bit chilly with a cool breeze. The sun may be bright, but it hasn’t the strength of a summer sun. Soon enough it will merely give us light, not warmth, and will spell the end of bare feet and arms and move us into slippers and sweatshirt weather.
I ordered flowers for the garden. My choices were determined by color. The company sent a $20.00 coupon if you spend $40.00 so I couldn’t resist the half-off. I was going to shop locally, but I saved money, on-line, even with shipping.
I seldom remember the names of flowers. People look at blooms in my garden and want to know their names. My face goes blank and my eyes glaze. I have no idea of most of them. I know white hibiscus is already in the garden so I ordered red. I also can name the seagrass so I ordered rose fountain grass and dwarf fountain grass. If I get asked, I can always remember grass.
As the weather cooled, my mother would sometimes send soup in my thermos for lunch. It was either tomato or chicken noodle. My mother would also pack Saltines for dipping and a dessert. I used to eat a little soup, mostly the chicken and the noodles, then crush the Saltines in the broth. They would get soft and mushy after having absorbed all the liquid. They were delicious.
My thermos generally broke before the end of the school year usually from being dropped while in the lunch box. I’d pick up the lunchbox from the ground, open it and then shake the thermos. I’d hear the dreaded sound of broken glass, of slivers of glass from the thin layer. I knew what it meant, and I knew how my mother would react: she’d get angry and get that disappointed look. I was always a bit amazed by her reaction because the broken thermos was generally a yearly event. Using kid logic, I figured she should have expected it and not gotten angry, but I was never foolish enough to her that.
Categories: Musings
Tags: beautiful day, breakfast, chicken noodle soup, chilly morning, hibiscus, ornamental grasses, perennials for the garden, Saltines, soup for lunch, sweatshirt weather, the sound of glass, thermos
Comments: 10 Comments
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