Archive for the ‘Musings’ category
September 5, 2013
I venture to say today is a bit cooler than we’ve been used to of late. It is only 69˚. The rain clouds are back and there is a breeze, from the north, seldom a good sign. My house is dark.
Today I have a few errands and Gracie gets to come with me. Her waiting in her crate days while I venture out are nearly over. In the cold of winter, she gets to ride just about everywhere as I don’t mind leaving her in the car. Next week Gracie has her older dog vet visit. That comes six months after her well-dog visit. She’ll have blood tests and a general physical. I hope all will be well.
It has just started raining.
I loved my old elementary school classrooms when it was raining. The ceilings were high and the windows facing the schoolyard reached to the ceiling. Watching the raindrops on the windows was somehow mesmerizing. They’d hit the window then roll down and finally disappear. The sound of the rain filled the room, and we always seemed a bit quieter on rainy days. The classroom lights hung down on long wires, and even though they were lit, the room always seemed a little dark. The crafty teachers placed the desks so our backs were to the big windows, but the side windows could be seen from anywhere. The view was of trees and shrubs and a house close to the school, separated only by a fence and the drive-way size entrance to the school yard. The back door of the school faced that little road. I sometimes slipped out that door at the end of school to avoid the crowds exiting the main door. The nuns didn’t care. Once the end of school bell was rung we were on our own.
I always got soaked walking home from school in the rain. My feet would squish in my shoes, my clothes got wet and my hair dripped. I never carried an umbrella. I was never the umbrella type. But getting soaked felt liberating in a way though I wouldn’t have known that word back then, but that’s what it was. I didn’t have a choice but to walk so it was like having permission to be wet even in my school clothes. Sometimes I’d hold out both my arms and raise my face to the rain. I’d close my eyes so I could feel the drops on my face. I know I fell in love with rain on those walks home.
Categories: Musings
Tags: breezy day, cool day, drops of rain, Elementary school, getting soaked, Gracie, huge windows, long windows, loving the rain, raindrops, raining, squishy shoes, vets, walking in the rain
Comments: 27 Comments
September 3, 2013
Last night I finally gave up and turned on the AC. I was sweating in the humidity which made little sense so on went the AC, and within a short time both Gracie and I were nice and cool. Today is much the same as yesterday though the humidity is a bit lower: no clouds, no possibility of rain, but my resistance is also lower so the AC may be on shortly.
I was awake until four this morning. It was just one of those can’t get to sleep nights. I went upstairs at two after having watched Carrier, a series about an aircraft carrier in the Gulf in 2008. I watched two installments. The pickings for TV watching are lean in the wee hours. Syfy was offering sharks again, but I just couldn’t face the two-headed shark and Sharknado again with all the craziness and mayhem. Given the choices, Carrier was pretty interesting.
When I was young, all the channels stopping airing around midnight. Each had a different sign off but each sign off included the national anthem. One channel had the Blue Angels flying in formation and doing maneuvers while the anthem playing in the background. I remember the trails of smoke behind the planes as they turned in unison, an image that has stuck in my head all these years. I also remember when the anthem was finished. The test pattern then took over for the rest of the night into the late morning. The pattern which sticks in my head was the Indian wearing a full headdress. He was at the top of circles and boxes which I guess was the actual test pattern. I never thought about those test patterns. I just figured they were there to fill the empty spaces where programs should be. Come to find out they were meant to help calibrate and align the cameras.
TV never goes off now, but I still feel a bit of nostalgia about the Indian. Given a preference, I’d choose that or any test pattern over the infomercials which crowd the airways after midnight. Some of the gimmicks being sold are intriguing, but I haven’t yet been tempted to buy one and get a second free if I just pay shipping and handling!
Categories: Musings
Tags: AC, align the cameras, Carrier, channel sign offs, humidity, Indian test pattern, infomercials, national anthem, sharks, Syfy, warm day
Comments: 25 Comments
September 2, 2013
Today is damp and cloudy. Maybe rain, even a v, is in the forecast. The whole weekend has been the same. I don’t think we had as many tourists for the weekend as usual. The forecast was spot on.
In kids’ parlance today is not Labor Day. It is the day before school starts. The buses roll tomorrow morning. My neighborhood has kids now, little kids, and four of them are headed to elementary school together: two to kindergarten, one to first grade and the oldest to second grade. They’re outside riding bikes now. I suspect their heads are not filled with images of new clothes, buses and the first day of school. They still have the look of summer about them.
The red spawn of Satan got the hose treatment again this morning. A short time later it was back but ran as soon as I walked on the deck. It didn’t take long for the hose and me to have an impact.
If I were to go back in time, to my elementary school days, I’d choose the fifth grade. We got bused for a while to the next town while the new school was finished. It was an adventure which also shortened the school day. We had the same hours as the rest of the school so we were on the bus for a part of the morning and a part of the afternoon. We always got back just as school was letting out for the day. In the spring we moved into the new school. My room was on the first floor. The nun I had that year was a jovial sort. She used to hand out pieces of candy as prizes. Seldom did she leave her desk chair to walk around the room so she’d toss the candy to the prize winner. She periodically had contests like who could list the most homonyms, now called homophones. I remember that contest because I won, and this was before computers. My prize was a miniature book with Bible verses. I was intrigued by the size of the book and not so much by the verses. I don’t remember what I learned that year, but I figure it was pretty the same as all the other years. Nouns and the other parts of speech never seemed to disappear and once we hit decimals and fractions they followed us everywhere. Columbia and coffee are forever linked. There was only so much geography. As for history, I have no idea what we studied in the fifth unless it was the Pilgrims, but in those days history sort of hopscotched all over the place.
We were still young in the fifth grade. We jumped rope during recess and giggled about boys. Fifth grade was when I punched the boy who constantly teased my friend and wouldn’t stop when asked, even nicely asked. That is probably my favorite memory of that year. I learned to stand up for friends and I learned I had a strong right.
Categories: Musings
Tags: candy prizes, cloudy and damp, coffee exports, decimas, Elementary school, end of summer, fifth grade, first day of school, fractions, geography, history, jumping rope, Labor Day, new clothes, nouns, nuns, punching a boy, recess
Comments: 17 Comments
September 1, 2013
Last night Gracie was bored. How do I know? She took her toys out of her toy box just because she wanted to. She then went and knocked a few things off a shelve and knocked over the canister where I put my change. I gave her a chew, one which takes time and effort. She went outside and buried it. How do I know? When she came back inside, she shook her head and globs of wet dirt flew all over this room including on the TV and my computer screen. I got wet paper towels and washed her face paying particular attention to her nose, the tool she uses to push the dirt over the hole. Later she resurrected the chew, and it was disgusting and dirty.
We all went to bed round 11:30. Gracie was still panting so much from her exertions the bed was shaking. I decided to turn on the AC to help her calm down. It worked. Within a short time, Gracie was quietly sleeping. Some time during the night, she moved and was on the other side of the bed beside me taking far more than her share of room. How do I know? I turned over, ran out of room and fell out of bed. It was a shock. I sat for a minute then decided because I was up or maybe down depending on how you look at it I might as well go to the bathroom. The bathroom floor was soaked. I thought leak then I saw lightning and more lightning. It was quick and short almost like the spark from a Zippo lighter just about out of fluid. You keep turning the wheel hoping to get a flame but all you get is that quick burst of light. That’s what I saw. The floor and the windowsill were soaked from the storm I had slept through.
When I went on the deck, I saw the candle holders were almost filled with rain so it had been a mighty storm, a deluge. I called my friend who couldn’t believe I didn’t hear the thunder. He said it was loud and lasted a long while, and those shorts bursts of lightning I saw were at the end of the storm, after the rain. If I hadn’t fallen out of bed, I would have missed everything. I guess it was a serendipitous fall.
While I was on the deck, I noticed a red tail hanging from the back of my squirrel buster feeder. It was the small red spawn of Satan, too light for the squirrel buster to work. That creature eats the seed all the time, and I’ve had it. I keep the hose with a nozzle hanging from the deck as I use it to water the garden below, the pots near it and to fill the watering can. I took the nozzle, moved it to jet and then sprayed the red squirrel. I have never seen that spawn move so quickly. Maniacal laughter sprang from my lips. I felt a bit like Dr. Frankenstein when the monster moved, “It’s alive. It’s alive,” became, ” Run for your life, you spawn. I have you now.”
I’m thinking a long rest might be in order.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bored dog, buried treats, dirty faced dog, Dr. Frankenstein, falling out of bed, globs of wet dirt, hole digging dog, hose and nozzle, lightning, long rest, maniacal laughter, red spawn of Satan, squirrel buster, thunder storm
Comments: 26 Comments
August 31, 2013
Despite my lethargy, I got everything done yesterday. I even took Gracie to the dump then brought her home so I could do my other errands without having to leave her in the hot car. The dump was unusually quiet. Sometimes I miss the old days with squawking seagulls circling the piles of trash. It wasn’t pretty, but it was interesting and loud.
I remember learning to tie a bow so I could tie my shoes. My mother was sitting in the chair by the picture window close to the door, and I was leaning on the chair’s arm beside her. She had a huge ribbon tied around a stuffed animal’s neck. I think it was a teddy bear. She tied the bow slowly, one step at a time, explaining as she went, and I watched. She tied it a few times then had me try. My fingers seem to have minds of their own. They didn’t go where I expected. They fluttered about as I held and tied the ribbon which knotted. My mother then guided my fingers as we tied the bow together. She did that a couple of times. I tried to fly solo again, and this time I did. I made a bow. It was loose and ugly, but it was still a bow. When I tied my shoes, the bow never lasted too long. I had yet to master the tightness of a good bow, but I did over time. My bows became useful and even pretty. I’d tie them with a flourish.
Being a kid meant learning new things all the time. I’d see a bug or a bird and want to know its name. Zippers gave me a bit of trouble. I knew what to do, but it wasn’t always easy to get the two bottoms to meet exactly right. Besides, zippers were in the wrong spot. They were below eye sight so it was often hit or miss.
I remember my first row-boat and rowing in circles. I just couldn’t coordinate the oars. My dad showed me what to do. He also taught me to swim. He was a great swimmer.
The red encyclopedias in our living room, the ones from the supermarket, got a lot of use. I would randomly pick a volume and read it. It was my way of learning new stuff. Every Christmas as a gift I got that year’s Information Please Almanac. I loved filling my head with generally useless facts. Little did I realize back then their the value. Now those facts are called trivia, and I get to compete on Thursday nights in the winter.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bugs and birds, dump run, encyclopedia, errands, knotted ribbon, learning new things, lethargy, row boats, seagulls, Trivia, tying a bow, tying my shoes, ugly bow, zippers
Comments: 19 Comments
August 30, 2013
Somewhere off in the far distance, I can hear a dog bark, barely hear that dog bark, but Gracie feels it is her responsibility to respond. That she is standing on the deck directly under my window is of little importance. A dog does what a dog wants to do.
Last night was so chilly I shut my downstairs windows. My feet were even cold. Yesterday was fall. I don’t care that it is still August. Fall drops in now and then to get the lay of the land and last night was one of those visits. Today isn’t much better. It’s still chilly and damp. School should start on a day like today.
My friends are leaving for Ireland on Tuesday. My other friends are going to Ghana in the middle of September. I feel like the poor relation. I haven’t even been to Hyannis lately.
I called Rose Atiah, one of my students, this morning. I needed a Ghana fix, and Rose is always good for a conversation. She said it was getting ready to rain, and I could picture exactly what Bolga looks like with an impending storm. Rose said she was doing nothing, and I told her I was doing nothing as well. We chatted a bit more, and Rose said she would pass along my greetings to Agatha, Francisca and Bea. Hearing a Ghanaian accent always gives me a bit of a lift, and I love that Ghanaians pass along greetings.
Sometimes I feel like a bit of a hermit. With no reason to go out, I don’t bother to get dressed. I make my bed, brush my teeth, do a cursory wash of hands and face and then let the day while by me. Today could easily be one of those days, but I have no choice but to go out to the pharmacy. Gracie gets to come because it will be cool enough in the car for her.
When I finally got to my house in Ghana, I was living alone for the first time in my life, and it was a difficult transition. During Peace Corps training, we had been herded and kept in large groups, and we had each other, but now I had no one to talk to about how I felt, no one who understood what I was going through. I was homesick, doing a rotten job in the classroom and an object of curiosity for my students and just about everyone in town. I fled to books and checked for mail every day at least a couple of times. I was starved for conversation and companionship. I was miserable. I don’t know when that began to change, when I knew I was home, but change it did. I loved living alone. It was fun going into town and to the market. People greeted me all the time, and I returned their greetings. I was madam, a teacher at the school, and that was all.
Talking to Rose today brought a lot of that back. She still calls me madam.
Categories: Musings
Tags: barking dogs, Bolgatanga, BWTTC, difficult transition, former students, Ghana, greetings, homesickness, living alone, madam, market day, Peace Corps Ghana, Rose Atiah, teaching
Comments: 8 Comments
August 29, 2013
Today is dark, damp and chilly, but I don’t mind. My dance card is empty so I’ll probably just stay around the house and read. Last night I started a book called The Altar of Bones. It will keep me occupied.
I feel witless today. Nothing of import rambles in my brain. I looked out the window over the sink for a long while waiting for the coffee to brew. The male gold finches are at their most beautiful. Their feathers are deep yellow and striking in the darkness of the day. I noticed the red chests of the house finches. Even slight colors pop on a day like today.
For the longest time, probably well over twenty years, the walls of my house were white. Color came from whatever I used to decorate. One year, though, when it was time to repaint, I decided to go with color. I didn’t just choose pale or pastel colors. Nope, I went put on your sunglasses bright. The living room is lipstick, a deep red. I chose grey as its companion color. The bathroom went pink, bright in your face pink. Nutmeg was my choice for the dining room, and it is my favorite of all the colors. The kitchen is green but an odd color green difficult to describe. The hall is blue, a light blue. Upstairs the hall is grey because the walls leading to it are red. The open linen closet is red, sort of the living room in reverse. My room is a bright yellow; the guest room is deep blue and the bathroom was lilac. I say was because that bathroom is now blue-green to match the new shower curtain, but I liked the lilac so much I used it downstairs in the once pink bathroom. I like the lilac better.
All this talk of color has reminded me of my Crayola crayons, the box I always got for going back to school. There were 48 colors back then. No other kind of crayons would do. They would be an embarrassment, just pale imitations of Crayola crayons. I remember opening the box and getting my first whiff of those crayons. It was a special smell that only came from a box of crayons. I’d look at those perfect crayon tips lined up in the box then I’d pick the crayons up one at a time to see the name of the color. I learned burnt Sienna is a sort of brown and periwinkle is a kind of blue. It wasn’t just a red crayon in that box. It was brick red or violet red. Yellow was lemon yellow, as bright as the fruit. There were new words for me to learn like magenta, thistle and maize. The colors were the hints.
I have a commemorative tin of Crayola Crayons. It contains all 48 colors that were in my box some of which have since been discontinued. The tin isn’t valuable in money, but when I open it, I smell the crayons and see those tips lined up in a row, and I am seven again. That tin is invaluable to me!
Categories: Musings
Tags: bird feeders, blues and green, brick red, chilly, cloudy, Crayola crayons, damp, gold finches, house finches, lipstick red, magenta, maize, paint colors, Prussian blue, the whiff of crayons, yellow
Comments: 20 Comments
August 27, 2013
Gloomy is the best I can say for today. It was late last night when I heard the rain start. It wasn’t a dramatic storm with thunder or lightning was rather quiet and gentle. I could almost hear each drop as it fell on a leaf or the deck. When I woke up, it was still raining, still a quiet and gentle rain. Since then, the rain has stopped. Everything is still except for one raucous crow.
I didn’t go to the dump yesterday. I didn’t feel like it, but today we’re going. I have collected all the recyclables from the cellar and put the trash bags by the car. The rest of yesterday’s to-do list got finished. I felt quite accomplished. I even filled some bird feeders which were not on the list. I’m thinking some sort of a trophy would be nice. It should be engraved.
My first grade teacher was a menace. She scared the heck out of me. Her name was Sister Redempta. She was really old, at least to my six-year-old eyes. Her habit was black and white. She wore blinders on each side of her white coif (I looked up what that was called. I always just said headpiece). It wasn’t until I was a little older that I realized that coif gave us an advantage. The nuns had to swivel their heads back and forth to catch us so we had a bit of time to do whatever. Every nun I had in elementary school kept a handkerchief up at the end of her sleeve. A bit of white always showed. That’s sort of gross when you think about it. We could always hear the nuns coming because the giant rosary beads they wore around their waists made a lot of noise. It was like an early warning system. I had more good nuns than bad throughout my elementary school years. Considering it was baby boomer time and some classes were huge, with 30 kids, you’d think discipline problems, but there were none. Our parents would have killed us.
When I was in the seventh grade, the habits were changed, and the blinders were replaced by what looked like small visors. Now the nuns could see everything. They had the advantage. That was a sad day for us.
My aunt is a nun. That’s all I’ve known her as. She used to wear habit. Now she wears regular clothes. We all call her my aunt the nun as if she has no other name.
Categories: Musings
Tags: blinders, changed habits, coif, dump run, first grade teacher, gloomy, handkerchief, my aunt the nun, nuns, nuns' habits, rainy, raucous crow, rosary beads, to do list
Comments: 10 Comments
August 26, 2013
Today I’m tired for no reason as I slept just fine. It may be the clouds and the coolness giving me a bit of a down day. My to do card has change litter, change bed, shower, do a wash and go to the dump. I’m thinking that list has something to do with my mood. Not one thing is fun. If I were a Disney character I could just sing The Happy Little Working Song and the spawns of Satan, the chipmunk who lives in my lawn, the mice probably still hiding in the cellar and the birds from the feeders could join in the cleaning. Then again I could just Whistle While I Work and even make it a happy tune. Somehow, though, none of that is appealing. I choose to wallow in my mood.
This is it: the final week before school starts. It was a mad dash for my mother to get us all ready. Mostly we needed new school shoes and whatever parts of the uniform we had out-grown over the summer. I usually got a new blouse or two, always white, and my brother generally needed new pants and new white shirts. The shoes were always sturdy, meant to be worn most of the school year. We didn’t have much money, but my mother never skimped on school shoes and clothes because we had to wear them every day. She always figured it was cheaper in the long run to buy more expensive clothes rather than constantly replacing them. The rule, of course, was to get out of our school clothes into our play clothes as soon as we got home.
I don’t remember when the categories disappeared and all of what I wore just became clothes. When I was little, we had school clothes, play clothes and church clothes. None of them were ever interchangeable. Most of my clothes were play clothes because I wore a uniform to school and a dress to church, usually an old Easter or Christmas dress. My Sunday shoes were also dressy, sometimes patent leather with a strap. My play shoes were usually sneakers or shoes which in a former life had been school shoes demoted because they were worn and scuffed with a sloping heel.
I really liked going to the shoe store, putting my feet in the x-ray machine to see the bones and having the shoe salesman check my size using the sliding silver sizer. I’d wander to look at the shoes on display, always only one shoe of a pair, and them pick out some to try on until I’d found the perfect pair: the pair my mother and I could agreed upon. She’d pay for them, but I always proudly carried the bag with the shoe box inside. They were my new shoes.
Categories: Musings
Tags: church clothes, cleaning, Disney character, down day, Happy Little Working Song, new shoes, play clothes, school clothes, shoe store, spawns of Satan, sturdy shoes, to do list, wallow in my mood, whistle while I work, white blouses, x-ray feet machine
Comments: 23 Comments
August 25, 2013
Last night I put on socks as my feet were cold. I even closed the window behind me in the den. The night got down to 57˚. This morning the house was only 64˚so I went outside where it was much warmer to read the papers and have my coffee. At first it was quiet with only the sounds of the birds then some neighbors went out on their deck. I call them the loud neighbors as I usually can hear them, especially when they argue, and when their language gets a bit salty. I met her once. She was smoking and wore curlers in her hair, those huge curlers. I swear she could have been someone from the mid-60’s pulled out of time to here. Her complaint was I call at night for my dog Carol too much. I told her I’d never call Carol again. They didn’t stay outside long this morning, and I’m grateful as I have just the sounds of birds again.
All the signs of the coming autumn are moving into place. The den gets darker in the late afternoon now because the sun is setting so much earlier than it was a few scant weeks ago. My autumn clematis is filled with buds and has taken over one section of the front fence. It will be glorious when the flowers bloom. The rental next to me is empty this next week. The garden centers are filled with mums and ornamental cabbage and all the other fall plants. I’ve got a hankering for a garden run.
I think this is my favorite time of the year. Even when I was a kid, I loved the autumn. My town had all different varieties of trees lining the sidewalks and in the front yards, unlike the cape with its scrub pines and oaks. Those trees were full and brilliant in the fall and were a palette of reds and yellows. It was like walking in a rainbow when I went to school. We always picked up the prettiest leaves and put them in our school books so they’d flatten. I was partial to yellow. Every fall we’d iron our favorite leaves between pieces of wax paper. It was our way of saving the beauty of the season for we knew it wouldn’t be too long before we’d be walking along the curbside kicking piles of dead, brown leaves as we walked to school.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 57˚, a dog named Carol, autumn clematis, chilly house, cold nights, favorite season, garden centers, ironing leaves in wax paper, loud neighbors, mums, ornamental cabbage, palette of colors, picking up leaves, setting sun, the coming season
Comments: 19 Comments
keepthecoffeecoming.blog 