Archive for the ‘Musings’ category
May 6, 2014
I have been waking up early the last few days or at least early for me. I think the sunshine makes me not want to waste any daylight. The dog, cat and I don’t get up right away but stay in bed, them sleeping, me reading. My book is just about finished, and I hated leaving it this morning but thoughts of coffee and the papers were enough to roust me from bed. It was a noisy morning. From my bedroom window I could hear the sounds of the early day. Somewhere a lawn was being mowed and I could hear the kids waiting for their bus. Two neighbors, their combined seven kids and one dog are not quiet. The little kids’ bikes rumble up and down the neighbor’s drive-way. She’s not there. The dog barks if a car drives by him. The bus arrives about ten to nine, two of the kids get on, everyone waves to them, the bus leaves and the bikes head on down the street: a couple of Big Wheels and two bikes with training wheels. This afternoon they’ll do it all again for the return trip of the school bus.
I grew up in a golden age. We walked to school and all over town. We played in unfenced yards or went to the playground down the street. It was an innocent age where the only bad guy was a Russian with his atomic bombs, but duck and cover was more of a game to us than a strategy. We played cowboys and Indians. We had heroes like Superman. I don’t think my parents ever locked the front door. The world was never scary except maybe for the guy with the hook. We watched westerns on TV. They always had a good guy and a bad guy, and it was easy to tell them apart. In school, each class had 35 or more kids in it, but the nuns ruled with iron hands. Not one of us dared cross them or we’d get killed at home. The worst thing we ever did was whisper or pass a note. On Saturday nights the whole family went to the drive-in and on summer Sundays the beach. The car was cramped and there was no air-conditioning, but we all survived though with some complaining and pushing and screaming about territorial rights. The phones had operators who connected us, and ours was a party line. We knew just about everyone in our neighborhood. We also knew they’d tell our parents if we did anything wrong. Summer was pure bliss. Some days we walked to the zoo or the pool. The zoo was free; the pool was a dime. My mother sometimes gave us an extra nickel so we could buy a snack from the stall outside the pool. We’d sit under trees at picnic tables and eat our snack before the long trek home, all the way across town. We never gave much thought to the future. We were kids and the future was the next day or as far away as the weekend.
That was the easiest time in my whole life, and I think of it with great fondness and a whole lot of nostalgia.
Categories: Musings
Tags: beaxches, Big Wheels, drive-in movies, duck and cover, golden age, man with the hook, noisy mornings, nuns, party lines, pool, school bus, sunny mornings, territorial rights, training wheels, westerns, zoo
Comments: 4 Comments
May 5, 2014
We have been graced with sun yet again. The day will be warmish. I’ve become hopeful and have even started to make a list of flowers for the garden, perennials for the front and annuals for the boxes in the back. I also need herbs for both the herb garden and the deck boxes and vegetables for my small vegetable garden. I love to shop for flowers.
When I was young, girls’ dungarees had a zipper in the front pocket. They weren’t as sturdy as boys’ dungarees. My brother wore jerseys and I mostly wore blouses. In the summer I wore sleeveless blouses and shorts. I also wore white sneakers and socks. I don’t know why, but I never wore sandals. I don’t remember if anyone did. My brother never wore shorts. Boys seldom did even in the heat of summer. Shorts were a girl thing, and the distinction between girls’ and boys’ stuff was huge when I was growing up. Boys’ bikes had that bar across the middle while girls’ bikes didn’t. No boy would have ever been caught dead on a girl’s bike, but if you think about it now, the boys would have been better served with no bar. My brother wore black Converse high tops, and I wore Converse as well but white, kind of pointy-toed ankle high sneakers. When I was young, keeping them white didn’t matter, but when I was older, keeping them white was so important I remember using white shoe polish to cover up scuffs. The polish would seep through the sneakers onto my socks and feet. Boys had better winter hats. They had ear flaps which kept their ears warm. I had a wool tam which didn’t make it to my ears which were always cold and red. We both wore mittens. Gloves were for adults. Our boots went over our shoes. Boys mostly wore black boots. Girls preferred colors. Red was a favorite. I never wore pants to school except under my skirt on the coldest days. The only time I could wear pants was playing after school or on Saturdays. I always thought it was a gyp.
Even in Ghana I had to wear dresses all the time. Clothes I brought with me didn’t hold up well to hand scrubbing so I had dresses made. We all did. They were made with Ghanaian cloth and were beautiful. When I went back a few years ago, I brought a dress and wore it once. The rest of time I wore pants. They had become acceptable for women.
There are very few times or places where a dress is expected wear. I wore one this Easter as I do every year. I think the last time before that was a wedding. I have a fall-winter dress and two spring-summer dresses. They are all I need.
Categories: Musings
Tags: boy's bike, boys' clothes, Converse sneakers, Dresses, dungarees, flowers, Ghanaian cloth, girl's bike, girls' clothes, herbs, summer dress, sunny day, vegetable garden, winter dress
Comments: 14 Comments
May 4, 2014
Dare I risk saying it aloud and perhaps ruining the spell? Well, I am a risk taker so here it is: spring is finally here. Yesterday was a delight. I opened windows to the fresh smelling air and was on the deck in the sun for a while replenishing my vitamin D. It was in the 60’s again. Today is no less a delight with the bright sun making a return engagement though the morning is a bit cooler than yesterday’s.
My lawn was mowed in the late afternoon, and the sweet smell of that fresh mown grass filled the air. The grass, a deep spring green, is still lush from all the rain. It is perfect for bare feet even after being mowed.
I still have a Sunday mentality left over from my childhood. Saturday is for chores and errands. Sunday is for church if you’re so inclined, family time and a quieter day than the rest. Today is perfect for a ride after dinner and a stop for ice cream on the way home.
My town used to have a Dairy Queen. We’d ride our bikes down and get small vanilla cones with chocolate dips. My father was indignant when we called it ice cream. He always corrected us and said ice milk. It comes as a powder to which milk gets added in the mixing machine. My father worked for Hood Ice Cream, real ice cream, not ice milk, so the difference was important to him. I didn’t care. It was still ice cream to me though the ice milk did melt faster than real ice cream. The cones from DQ were never my favorites. They were tasteless. Sugar cones from ice cream shops were the best though sometimes the ice cream would leak from the bottom cone tip. It was a race to make sure the top of the ice cream didn’t melt or the bottom didn’t leak all over my shirt. I had ice cream crazes. Mint chocolate chip with jimmies (as we call them) was one as was mocha chip. I ordered one or the other for the longest time. Lately coconut has assumed the top position as favorite. Add some caramel sauce with sea salt and it is a dish fit for the gods.
Categories: Musings
Tags: coconut ice cream, Dairy Queen, ice cream, ice milk, jimmies, lawn mowing, mint chocolate chip, quiet day, spring has sprung, sugar cone, Sunday mentality, the deck, warm days
Comments: 8 Comments
May 3, 2014
Yesterday it was a joy to be out and about doing errands. I think I smiled the whole time. The day was brilliant with a bright sun and a temperature in the high 60’s. Poor Gracie had to be left home as I had too many long stop errands and didn’t want her stuck in the car in the heat. This time of year she comes when I go to the dump or take a ride. She was out in the yard most of the afternoon and spent part of it stretched on the deck enjoying the sun.
For breakfast when I was a kid, I had cocoa, oatmeal or eggs and toast during the winter, and in the summer I had cereal or toast with juice or milk. For lunch it was mostly a bologna sandwich. I was never good at slicing the bologna so my sandwich was always misshapen. Some of the bologna pieces had thick edges on one side and thin on the other. I added hot peppers from a jar and yellow mustard. Dinner was my mother’s choice. She knew what we’d tolerate and served it. Mashed potatoes were almost always part of the meal, and there was at least one vegetable. Hamburger in a variety of dishes was the most common meat. I didn’t realize why until I was older. Hamburger was inexpensive. My mother was creative. She made terrific meatloaves. She also cooked American chop suey without the onions and a Chinese dish with bean sprouts, water chestnuts, hamburger and crispy chow mein sticks on the top. Salisbury steak in gravy was another meal. Just plain hamburgers were mostly summer fare with hotdogs cooked on the grill. Sunday was the big dinner and we never had hamburger. Mostly it was a baked chicken or now and then roast beef. The last Sunday dinner I had before I went into the Peace Corps was roast beef, mashed potatoes and peas.
In Ghana I was still a creature of habit when it came to food. I had two eggs, toast and coffee for breakfast, fruit for lunch and beef and yam for dinner. I’d also have chicken now and then. Sunday was food from a chop bar, a hole in the wall eatery at the lorry park. Mostly it was fufu and soup. After the Christmas package came, Sunday was eat something from home day. Macaroni and cheese was a dish fit for the Gods.
I hadn’t good at making meals. I’m far too lazy. I’d have brie and crackers for dinner or eggs and toast. Lately, though, I’ve been using meat from the freezer and have had real meals: chicken thighs, mashed potatoes and a vegetable. Last night it was my old stand-by, peas, and a baked potato for variety. Dinner was delicious, and I felt accomplished.
Categories: Musings
Tags: American chop suey, bologna, eggs and toast, errands, fufu and soup, Ghana Peace Corps, Hamburger, macaroni and cheese, oatmeal, real meals, Sandwiches
Comments: 14 Comments
May 2, 2014
The sun is breaking through the clouds. Today will be spring.
This shoulder season is my least favorite time of year. Of late, I have been tired and bored. The cold and the rain have made exploring less inviting. Afternoon naps while away the time but make me no less lazy. A few errands force me out of the house, and even though I complain, I am grateful for the change. Today is one of those days.
When I was a kid, we didn’t have decks or porches or patios. We just had backyards, unfenced expanses of grass dotted with clothes lines close to each house. The little kids mostly stayed in those yards. My sisters sat on the back-steps right outside the door and played with their dolls. My mother could hear and see them, but she never really worried. They wouldn’t stray and the whole neighborhood kept an eye. We older kids would never be caught playing in the backyard during the daylight. We had the freedom of bikes. My mother would do her parental duty and ask where we were going. We seldom had an answer as we seldom had a destination. “Just around,” was our usual reply, and that was exactly where we went. We never had any money, not even the wealth of a dime or a quarter. Sometimes we made lunch, mostly a sandwich and some Oreos, and we’d stop somewhere to eat at no given time just when we got hungry. If something caught our eyes, we’d investigate. We’d stop, use the kickstand on our bikes and walk to see what was around. Sometimes we’d ride uptown, walk our bikes on the sidewalk and look at store windows. My favorite window was at the fish market. A tank took up most of the window and lobsters took up most of the tank. We’d stop at the Woolworth’s window and Kennedy’s Cheese and Butter Store where barrels sat out front and the window had chunks of cheese which was foreign to us. My mother never bought cheese in chunks. We’d usually end our uptown tour there and head down the street pass the fire station, the town hall, our school and church and the convent. By then it was late afternoon, and during this time of year it was getting cooler as the sun set. We’d get home, maneuver our bikes down the stairs into the cellar and go up stairs to watch a bit of TV until my mother had dinner ready. I remember lots of westerns and hot dogs, beans and brown bread.
Categories: Musings
Tags: backyards, beans and brown bread, bikes, cheese and butter store, fish market, hot dogs, just around, lobsters, Lunch, oreos, riding around town, shoulder season, spring, sunny day, Woolworth's
Comments: 18 Comments
May 1, 2014
Yesterday the rain started and last night it poured. I know this because I took Gracie to the front garden to eat the grass there. The rain was pelting my back, and I got soaked. Gracie had trash picked the garbage bag yesterday, and I caught her but not until after she had eaten something. Last night she started swallowing over and over as if she was going to be sick. She kept gagging as well. That was what made me think she must have eaten something or had something stuck in her throat. After the grass frenzy out front we went to bed. Within a half hour it started again, the swallowing. We got up, and I gave her spider plant fronds to eat. I turned on the TV and waited a while. She seemed better so we went back to bed. By this time, it was around 2 o’clock. She fell asleep but then it started again. We went back to the grass in the front. It wasn’t raining as hard. After a while, we came back in, and I decided to try to sleep with her on the couch. It was 4 o’clock when we fell asleep. I woke up around 7:30 because my legs were contorted to give Gracie room and they ached from the odd position. That’s when we went upstairs to bed. I slept until 11. Gracie seems okay. She is having her morning nap and ate two treats earlier. I’m exhausted.
Today is dump day which may perk Miss Gracie’s spirits. Rainy days make the both of us unenthusiastic about doing much. I love staying inside my cozy house with a good book and a fresh pot of coffee while I listen to the rain.
Today is May Day, a time for the May Pole strung with ribbons, a May queen with flowers in her hair and the Morris dancers. Today I will buy some flowers for the house to bring a bit of spring and to celebrate May Day.
I have taught the red spawn how to fly. It has moved to a smaller feeder and can’t see me because the deck rail hides its sight line. I slowly make my way stopping every few steps in case it hears me. I run the last few steps to the feeder, and the spawn has nowhere to go but down. It jumps off the feeder to the ground, almost a couple of stories down then runs up a tree, sits on a branch close to the deck and starts yapping at me with squeals and squeaks. Yesterday the spawn flew twice. I gave its landings an 8 and a 7.
Categories: Musings
Tags: dump day, flying squirrel, May Day, May pole, May queen, rain, sick dog. eating grass, staying up late
Comments: 10 Comments
April 29, 2014
Today is a stay at home and be comfortable sort of day. It’s cold and, surprise, surprise, it’s cloudy. The errands got finished yesterday and the bird feeders were filled. I added cayenne pepper to the seeds in the big one, the one the red spawn loves. This morning he was at a smaller feeder, the one with a cage around it. I ran out and he was stuck for just a bit in the cage. He panicked and was gone in a heartbeat. Maybe that cage will keep him away.
Speaking of rodents, there have been no more mice in the trap. I’m still at two in the trap and one in the washing machine.
I don’t remember seeing critters when I was a kid. I remember bugs the most. My favorites were the grasshoppers. In the field, every step I took disturbed a grasshopper who leapt into the air then landed back down into the tall grass. Sometimes I’d run through the field just to watch the grasshoppers leap one after the other almost like a choreographed show. At the swamp we watched the tadpoles morph into frogs. We’d lie at the edge of the swamp on our stomachs and watch the tadpoles dart through the water. Their dark bodies were easy to see and follow. Sometimes I’d poke a finger into the water just to watch all of the tadpoles scatter. Mostly I remember their tails and how those tails disappeared over time through the spring into the summer. My favorite part of the cycle was when they still had tails but looked like frogs in their upper bodies. They could have been from a black and white 50’s science fiction movie when giant bugs and oversized creatures destroyed cities and ate people. My favorite bug of all was the praying mantis. It was neat looking with those forelegs which always reminded me of a fighter ready to box. I watched one for a long time once from the front steps to the garden. It hid in the plants and caught and ate a moth. I was delighted.
Once in a while, while we were riding in the car, we’d see a deer in a field near the side of the road. The first one to see it would always yell deer and point so we wouldn’t miss it. We had Weiss Dairy Farm in our town, and I loved going by it to see the cows in the field or in the corrals. I don’t remember ever seeing a skunk or a possum amble through the yard. I never even noticed they were missing.
Around here I have seen wild turkeys, coyotes, deer, foxes, possums and raccoons. The pond at the end of the street has spring peepers. I can already hear their calls. I wonder if there are tadpoles yet.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 50's science fiction, cayenne pepper and bird seed, cold and cloudy, cycle of the frog, deer, frog tails, frogs, grasshoppers, spawn of satan, tadpoles, Weiss Dairy Farm
Comments: 20 Comments
April 28, 2014
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I woke up. There it was, the sun, shining through the bedroom window. The sky was even blue. I ran downstairs trailed by Gracie and Fern and opened the front door. The sun streamed through the glass and Fern got comfy on the rug in the heat of the sunlight. Gracie went into the yard, and I went onto the deck. There was a bit of a morning chill, but I didn’t care. We have sun, glorious sun.
One side of my den table is covered in sticky notes. A list of perennials for the garden fill one note. I chose flowers of varying heights because I particularly want some taller ones for the back. Another sticky has a small shopping list for today: bird seed, cat food and toilet paper. A third note is a reminder I need to go to CVS. The last note has a list of authors I want to read and a few apps I want to download to my iPad. Sticky notes are my salvation.
When I was around twelve or thirteen, I got a diary as a Christmas present. The cover was pink vinyl and had a cartoonish teenage girl on the front talking on the phone. The diary came with a small gold key, but I really didn’t need to lock it. Little in there was ever something I wanted hidden. In my first few entries I mostly talked about school and drill (I was on a drill team) and what my friends and I were doing which wasn’t much. I did mention sneaking out of school at lunch time pretending I was going home to eat. I also admitted to my diary that I had lied. I arrived back to school late after lunch some days and told the nun I was with Father somebody or other. She always bought the lie.
I didn’t have enough teenage angst to fill my diary. I wrote about being angry with my mother or father, but that anger never lasted long. I wrote about what a jerk my brother was, but that was no revelation. Life for me was really pretty easy. I got tired of that diary after only a few months and stopped writing in it. I put it in my drawer and just left it there. It got covered with stuff, and I forgot all about it until we were moving to the Cape. I was clearing out my bureau where I found the diary and started reading. It was about the most boring thing I’d ever read.
Categories: Musings
Tags: blue skies, boring life, Diary, leaving school, lists, morning chill, sticky notes, sunny day, teenage angst
Comments: 12 Comments
April 27, 2014
Today is the same as yesterday: rainy and damp, the sort of damp which brings a chill. It’s socks and sweatshirt weather.
Today while I was watching the rain fall I realized I have seen wonders all of my life. When I was a little kid, falling snow was mesmerizing. Each flake fell gently and silently and glistened in the street light. I watched from the front window to make sure the street was getting covered. That gave me hope for a snow day. Thunder and lightning never scared me; instead, I was delighted. The flickering black and white TV screen was like magic. Every day brought delights some as lowly as a grasshopper caught in a jar and others as lofty as an airplane with a white tail.
When I was older, a teenager, the wonders didn’t cease. My friends and I wandered Harvard Square, went to museums and watched movies at the Orson Wells. We rode toboggans at the golf course and went to drive-in movies for the fun of it. We celebrated Mardi Gras on the third floor of the library with our forbidden food. We felt like rebels. We were there to watch the start of the space race. All of my science fiction stories were coming to life. It was amazing.
College was the wonder of learning new things, of being on my own and of meeting new people from all over the place. My insular life started to disappear. I began to look way beyond my boundaries wondering what was there for me to find. I wanted to experience the unfamiliar, the unexpected and even the uncomfortable.
I couldn’t believe I was actually living in Africa. Everything was a wonder: the colors, the smells and the sounds. Each bus ride was an adventure. Market day was the most fun. I wandered the stalls, bargained and picked out my chicken. The amazing became the commonplace, and I loved every day.
In the summer, I watch the fireflies. In August I sit outside for the meteor shower. I still watch snowflakes fall under the back light. I love Christmas. In my backyard the trees have white lights which shine every night. I love looking at them through the windows. They give the yard a bit of fairyland.
It seems wonder stays with us all of us lives.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Africa, Christmas, flickering TV screen, grasshoppers, market day, snowfalling, space race, thunder, widening boundaries, wonder
Comments: 10 Comments
April 26, 2014
It’s not winter even though my heater is going so I’m stuck calling this spring despite the cold and cloudiness. I suppose it could be sprinter, a new name for the shoulder season which isn’t one or the other. Rain is expected later, and I can already feel the dampness and the chill. I just put on some socks.
That weird trap caught another mouse yesterday. That’s two for the trap and one for the washing machine. I checked around 10:30 last night, and there it was inside the trap circling the small perimeter. I got Gracie and the two of us went for a ride. The mice are being freed at a different spot than last year’s just for novelty sake. This second freedom run went rather quickly because I had already figured out on the first run how to get the mouse out of the new trap. I watched it running toward the woods lit by my headlights and wished him well and hoped he’d find his friend, the mouse freed the other day. Today’s update: no mouse this morning.
When I run into weird words, I always wonder how I know their meanings. They’re not everyday words, were never vocabulary words and are used mostly by pompous people who scatter their conversations with archaic words so as to appear learned and intelligent. I chuckle. Pomposity does that to me.
My mother made great tapioca pudding. I liked it hot, scraping the pan hot, and I liked it cold. It was also one of my dad’s favorites. My mother made it more often than any other pudding, even more than chocolate. Sometimes I buy already made tapioca, and none of it ever compares to my mother’s.
I loved my mother’s pepper and egg combination. She made it for the beach and for road picnics when we were young. When we were older, it was often a side at barbecues at my parent’s house. My mother originally got the recipe from her sister which, I figure, gives it the stature of a family recipe. The squash dish always on our Thanksgiving tables came from another of my mother’s sister, but my mother unknowingly tweaked it. She switched butternut for zucchini. My uncle’s sausage cacciatore is one of legend. My sisters and I make it.
Food ties us to each other more than anything else.
Categories: Musings
Tags: chill, cold morning, family recipes, mouse trap, peppers and egg, pomposity, rain, sausage, squash, tapioca pudding, vocabulary
Comments: 8 Comments
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