Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

“You’re makin more racket than an empty wagon on a froze-over road.”

November 29, 2013

It isn’t yet the proverbial crack of dawn and here I am wide-eyed and bushy-tailed (clichés must be an early morning phenomenon). I blame it on the turkey and all the fixings. When I got home after dinner, I was filled to the gills (oops, another one) and so sleepy I went to bed before 9.

Dinner was spectacular and the table, filled with food, groaned under the weight of green bean casserole, stuffing, squash, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, grandma’s cole slaw and the star of the day, the turkey. We sat and ate for the longest time. Conversation was at a minimum. Mostly it was requests for one dish or another to be passed. Romper Room’s Miss Jean would have made all of us members of the clean plate club. After dinner, we waddled into the living room and watched TV hoping dinner would settle enough so we could have pie. We all managed. There’s always room for pie. The dinner was an unqualified success!

I can’t imagine dragging myself out of bed to get dressed and go shopping. The lead story on the 5 o’clock news was about the long lines of people waiting in the cold for stores to open. I got to hear one woman describe the toy she was buying. News must have been really scarce this morning.

Gracie is asleep and snoring beside me on the couch. Fern is asleep behind me on the back couch cushion. I have no idea where Maddie is but I figure she is probably sleeping upstairs. I am the only one awake. The TV is on, and I am immersed in black and white. I’ve watched Wanted Dead or Alive and My Three Sons and am now watching Petticoat Junction. Wanted Dead or Alive had Santa Claus, the real one. He was in the house pretending to be someone else and on Christmas morning he had disappeared. The doors were still locked on the inside, and there were no footprints, but there was a bell in the fireplace. On Petticoat they are decorating for Christmas, including the Cannonball and a cow with a bow on her head and a gift tag around her neck. I used to watch that show all the time. It is just awful, and I never noticed.

The Beverly Hillbillies are on, and I’d hate to miss them. I sang along with the theme song and remembered every word. The Clampetts  are returning home to the mountains for Christmas, “Happy as a pack of squirrels returning to their nest.”

“I’m thankful for every moment.”

November 28, 2013

Thanksgiving is the least adorned holiday of them all. We don’t buy each other presents or decorate the house. There are no new outfits in spring colors. The highlight of the day is dinner and being together around the table as a family related by blood or friendship. Of all the holidays, it is the one in which we share so much in common. Traditional dishes unique to each family are served but so are turkey and mashed potatoes, stuffing and gravy and all those pies. It is the time for us to remember the people we love who are no longer with us and to appreciate the ones who are. We give thanks for the good in our lives, the food on our tables and the glory of every day. We talk together and laugh together at dinner. We pass the rolls, the green bean casserole and the canned cranberry sauce with the ribbing. We eat until we can eat no more, but we leave plenty of leftovers. They are one of the best parts of thanksgiving. We finish by doing some cleaning up then relaxing in the living room until we have some room for dessert.

On Thanksgiving my sisters, who live far away, and I are connected not just by family but also by tradition: by my mother’s squash dish, a recipe she got from her sister, which was on our Thanksgiving table very year. It was passed to us and now had passed to a third generation. My mother’s recipe for stuffing fills all our turkeys. As for the pies: my mother made apple pie for my father. He always ate it with a slab of cheddar. The Lemon meringue was my favorite. Blueberry rounded out the pie selection.

I have baked my traditional offering: a chocolate cream pie, requested every year. Coincidentally my sister made one. It is not uncommon we are in the same wave length.

This morning I will watch the parade, the same as I have done as long I can remember. I’ll talk to my sisters to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving. I won’t dress fancy for Thanksgiving, none of us really do. I’ll sit with my friends and enjoy every part of the day. I am thankful for the life I have been lucky enough to live, for the people I love and the people who love me. 

I am thankful for all of you, my Coffee family.

Happy Thanksgiving!

“Even though it’s dark and cold there is always a shade of light.”

November 26, 2013

My stops took far more time than I expected. At Agway, I bought three wreaths and had to wait while the ribbon on one was changed so all three would be the same color. The two plain wreaths are for the fence and gate while the one for the door has starfish and shells and a tiny bird’s nest. It’s lovely. I also bought a rosemary tree for the house, and my car was filled with the wonderful aroma of the rosemary as I finished the rest of my errands. Why do people put those pine tree air fresheners in a car? I’m thinking dried rosemary would be amazing. At Ring Brother’s, a favorite stop of mine, I bought a sandwich for lunch, a turkey breast so I can have left overs and a pine kissing ball with golden bells, also for outside. I bought stuffing, but Rita, who owns Spinners, the pizza place inside Rings, was horrified. She had me buy bread, and she made stuffing for me with bread, Ritz, onions, celery and sausage. She told me that every good dish has only 5 ingredients. The stuffing is scrumptious. I hope it lasts long enough to cook with the turkey breast.

It is dark and overcast. A storm with heavy rain and strong winds will be here tomorrow, but today is dry and still and warm at 45˚.  I’m back to my sweat shirt.

On the day after Thanksgiving I’ll light up my Christmas lights. I love how beautiful the colors are and how they shine so brightly even on the darkest of nights. I still take a ride to see the lights the same as we did as a family when I was young. I think back then it was the only time we didn’t fight for our spaces in the backseat. The car was filled with oohing and ahing and pointing at the best houses. The ones all outlined in lights were the most spectacular. There were no white lights back then or computer programs setting the lights to music. There were just these big colored bulbs that got hot to the touch but shined ever so brightly. I have a few of the old sets and should check to see if they still work. Maybe I’ll throw them on a bush by the door the same as my father did.

“Ah, Nothing is too late, till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate.”

November 26, 2013

Coffee is going to be late today. Skip, my factotum, was supposed to come tomorrow to put up the outside lights and decorations but came instead today because tomorrow is supposed to be a rainy, windy, utterly disgusting day. I expected to spend today buying what I need for him to finish, but I have to do it now so Gracie and I are going shopping. I’ll write Coffee later. “Y’all come back now. You hear.”

“A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval.”

November 25, 2013

Winter with all its bluster has arrived. Last night was another night of howling winds and chilling temperatures. I wore my lined jacket for the first time this year. 27˚ was a bit cold for just my sweatshirt.

Gracie and I went to the dump yesterday. I swear I saw armed guards with dogs watching men from a gulag work the mulch piles in the open field part of the dump or maybe it was just an optical illusion brought about by the cold wind gnawing at my bones. I’m not really sure. The dump, open to the wind, is always colder than the rest of the world.

My heat blasts almost continuously to keep the cold at bay. I don’t care. I will be comfy and warm in my house.

Yesterday I went out to fill the big bird feeder. I noticed it was low on seed and the birds were numerous, all sorts flying in and out, and I didn’t want them hungry. It was freezing on the deck, and I broke my record in filling the feeder. Some of the seeds fell to the deck so the spawns would have had dinner as well. The birds didn’t voice their thanks, but they came right back when I rehung the feeder. That was thanks enough. They are back in full force today.

My dance card for today is now empty. I went out for breakfast at nine, stayed a while and talked with my friend. When I got home, I read both papers, did all my puzzles, spoke with my sister on the phone then finally started writing KTCC. The morning had pretty much slipped away, but that’s okay as I have absolutely nothing planned for the rest of the day. I’m going to change into my comfy flannels, put on some warm socks with my slippers and while away the day. I may read or catalog shop for Christmas or maybe not. I love having choices every day.

“There is one day that is ours. Thanksgiving Day is the one day that is purely American.”

November 24, 2013

Last night the wind blew then blew some more and whistled and shook the house. It was tremendous.

Today is bone-chillingly cold. Patches of blue dot the sky. The wind is not as strong as last night but it is still whipping the bare branches of the pines and oaks. The sun shines weakly for a while then disappears and leaves behind a bleakness, a wintry feel to the day. Outside is not at all inviting.

I have always believed Thanksgiving is more about family than any other holiday. I remember the Thanksgivings of my childhood and being home together the whole day biding our time until dinner. My mother always woke up in the wee hours of the morning to stuff the turkey then put it into the oven. The huge oval turkey pan was blue with small white dots. Sometimes the turkey was so big it just fit into the pan. I can still see my mother straining to pull the shelf out of the oven so she could baste the turkey. She always took a taste of the hard outside crust of the stuffing before she’d push the turkey back into the oven. Her stuffing tasted of sage and Bell’s Seasoning. It is still my favorite stuffing of them all. The windows were always steamed from the heat so my mother would open the back door to cool the small kitchen. While she worked on dinner, we sat in front of the TV and watched the Macy’s parade. She always put out the same snacks for the parade. There was a bowl of nuts to crack and eat, M&M’s and tangerines. I always like the tangerines because they were so easy to peel. The nuts were fun to crack.

When we were young, the menu didn’t vary much. Mashed potatoes were one of the highlights. I remember the big glob of butter my mother would put on top and how it would melt down the sides of the pile of potatoes. I always made a well in my potatoes where I’d put the gravy. I am still a huge fan of mashed potatoes. Creamed onions were on the menu because they were one of my father’s favorites. Peas were mine. The green beans came from a can because all our vegetables did. My father cut the meat with great ceremony and we all watched. He cut plenty of white meat because it was our favorite, but not my father’s. He was a leg man.

Dessert was always the same. My mother made an apple pie, a blueberry pie and a lemon meringue pie, my personal favorite. Pumpkin  pie was added when we were older.

Leftovers seemed to last forever.

“June suns, you cannot store them To warm the winter’s cold..”

November 23, 2013

The weatherman says to expect a cold front starting tomorrow. I just bought a new hat, a wool knitted hat with ear flaps, so bring on the cold. I think I’m going to look quite fashionable.

This morning I watched leaves fall one at a time from the big oak tree by the deck. They fluttered as they fell. I watched the birds at the feeders, mostly drab gold finches, eating thistle and sunflowers seeds. When Gracie comes in from outside, her ears are cold. The other morning a thin layer of ice-covered the water in the bird bath. I don’t hear people outside any more. Winter is coming.

Winter brings back memories. I remember the hissing of the radiators in the house where I grew up and how the windows in the morning sometimes had a thin layer of ice on the inside. I’d use my nail to write my name. We always wore warm pajamas and sock slippers. For breakfast my mother made oatmeal and added milk and sugar. The walk to school was quickest in winter. The worst part of the walk was passing the field where the wind whipped across and seemed to go through every layer of my clothes to touch my bones. Getting to school was always welcomed. It was warm.

In winter there was never enough space in the cloak room outside my classroom. Winter coats were bulky and the hooks were small. I’d stuff my mittens and my hat in my sleeves then try to get my coat to hang. Sometimes it stayed on the hook while other times it was held up by the coats around it all jammed together. On the coldest days I’d leave my sweater on. The nuns didn’t care. They sometimes wore black ones with buttons.

Getting coats to go home was always done in rows. The nun would announce our row, and we’d get our coats and bring them into class and get dressed there while the other rows went and got theirs. Sometimes the nuns had to zipper coats. They never seemed to mind. I conquered zippers early though sometimes it took two tries. The hat came next and the mittens last. We’d stand in a line in the classroom until the bell was rung to dismiss us then we’d walk to the door and into the cold.

“A nation reveals itself not only by the men it produces but also by the men it honors, the men it remembers.”

November 22, 2013

When I was in the eighth grade,  it was the first time that anything political had my attention. John Kennedy, my own senator, was running for president. I didn’t know the difference between a democrat or a republican, but I knew I was a democrat because John Kennedy was. The Kennedy headquarters in my town were in what had been a vacant store. It was there I got my Kennedy pins. I still have them. One says, “If I were twenty-one I’d vote for Kennedy.” The other has Kennedy’s face and a third says Kennedy for President. I wore them proudly. For that whole fall, I followed his campaign. I watched the debates. The only thing I remember about the debates is an easel on which was a map of the islands of Quemoy and Matsu and Nixon disagreeing with Kennedy on their defense. On election night I stayed up as late as I could watching the results as they trickled in, but they were too long in coming and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I found out that my senator was going to be President.

I watched the inaugural. I remember the top hats, and I remember Robert Frost and the poem he recited from memory. Kennedy’s inaugural address didn’t make a big impression. I was in the eighth grade and speeches didn’t hold my attention all that long. It wouldn’t be until I was older that I understood the greatness of his speech and the importance of his words.

It was a Friday. We were having a dance that night in the gym. I was going to stay after school to help decorate. I was in the cafeteria when one of the serving ladies told us the President had been shot. We sat there stunned. When the bell rang, we went upstairs to our classrooms, and I turned on the television in mine. Sister Ernestina came in and right away wanted to know who had turned on the TV without permission. I told her I had, and I told her the President had been shot. She sat down without another word. We watched even after school would have been dismissed, and I remember Walter Cronkite announcing the death of the President. The only sound in my classroom was the sound of crying. It wasn’t just the loss of the President but the loss of our President, the senator from Massachusetts, and the loss of our own innocence though we would’t realize that for a while.

We had no dance. Almost everything was cancelled. I spent the weekend glued to the television. I saw Lee Harvey Oswald get shot and couldn’t believe what I had seen. I watched the funeral and the salute and the riderless horse so spirited. I remember how tall De Gaulle looked walking behind the cortege. I remember the tears of the crowd. I will never forget.

“A flower blossoms for its own joy.”

November 21, 2013

I am fine. Yesterday I even had my car serviced and then treated myself to a stop at William-Sonoma. I figured I deserved it. Had I not been tired and hungry, I’d have made a few more stops. ‘Tis the season for Christmas shopping.

The nights are cold now, snuggle into the down comforter cold, and the days aren’t much warmer. I was out filling the bird feeders this morning and my hands got cold, but I was rewarded when the birds descended en masse. The red spawn appeared a while later. I saw him from the kitchen window, and I swear he checked the back door before he decided to stay on the deck rail. I ran out, and he got caught on the deck and was running back and forth. Gracie joined in the chase. Finally the spawn leapt onto a branch, a far away branch, and went from branch to branch into my neighbor’s yard. That is the only spawn which can get at the squirrel buster feeder because it is so small and lightweight. He jumps up, grabs a seed then sits on the deck to eat it then does that over and over. He keeps the birds away. My other nemesis, the grey spawns, haven’t been around. I see them racing in the yard and on trees but not the deck.

When I was outside this morning, I could hear the birds and I could hear the tapping of my downy woodpecker. He comes often to my suet feeder. I like watching him eat as he does so with such enthusiasm.

I watered the upstairs plants this morning and was rewarded by finding my Christmas cactus in bloom. Last week it was close to blooming, but I forgot about it, all the better for today’s surprise. The cactus has both red and white flowers, and they cascade from the green stems and hang over the table. I sat on the bed for a bit just looking at that plant. It is so beautiful. I always think of a Christmas cactus as a gift from the season. It is winter’s only flower.

“Be not sick too late, nor well too soon”

November 19, 2013

Where you might wonder are today’s musings?  Well, they are still in my head and my memory drawers waiting for another morning. I just don’t feel up to par as my mother would say, though she was never a golfer. Today I will do nothing though that’s not really a novel way for me to spend the day.  I’ll be back on Thursday.