Archive for the ‘Musings’ category
April 12, 2013
The bird’s beak rat tat tatting against my house woke me up this morning, but I’m getting so used to it I fell back to sleep. When I woke up, I looked out the window, saw the gray skies and decided to lie in bed a while and finish reading the James Patterson novel 12th of Never (Women’s Murder Club). Patterson must grind out a book every month which is probably why his novels are getting shorter and shorter like Mary Higgins Clark’s did with all the blank pages between chapters. I stopped reading Clark. I fear Patterson is next.
When we were young, most kids used their nicknames. Ours were never cruel or mean. Mostly they were just shortened versions of our own names. James was always Jimmy and Robert was always Bobby. I was Kathy except to my family who always called me Kat, the name I preferred. Once in a while, in an argument, you’d hear four eyes for a kid with glasses or cry baby if someone was brought to tears but that was about as mean as kids got. We never swore. Even someone saying hell would make for huge gasps from the crowd at the horror of it all. I never saw a physical fight when I was kid except between two adults; however, I admit I did punch someone in the school yard when I was in the fifth grade, and when I was 17, I punched someone at Fenway Park, but those are my only transgressions. Both of them were deserved.
Our innocence lasted a long time. We walked or biked all over town and not once did we wonder about our safety. We didn’t know about all the bad guys out there. We were afraid of the bomb but knew we were safe under our desks. Even though I knew it was only a story, I was a little afraid of the man with the hook so a branch against the window sometimes gave me pause. My mother taught us never to talk to strangers or take anything from someone we didn’t know. That was her only worldly advice. I guess she figured it covered just about everything.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Bird, cry baby, four eyes, innocence, James patterson, nicknames, safety, school yard fights, strangers, the man with the hook
Comments: 20 Comments
April 11, 2013
The other day Margaret Thatcher died. The Iron Lady is no more. She was, in so many ways, a trailblazers for women. She was the first woman to become prime minister of Britain and the first to lead a major Western power in modern times. She led her Conservative Party to three straight election wins and held office for 11 years — May 1979 to November 1990 — longer than any other British politician in the 20th century. Her obituary says it far better than I could.
“…by the time she left office, the principles known as Thatcherism — the belief that economic freedom and individual liberty are interdependent, that personal responsibility and hard work are the only ways to national prosperity, and that the free-market democracies must stand firm against aggression — had won many disciples. Even some of her strongest critics accorded her a grudging respect. ” Here is her entire obituary.
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/04/09/world/europe/former-prime-minister-margaret-thatcher-of-britain-has-died.html?pagewanted=2&_r=1&ref=obituaries
Today is a damp, rainy day perfect for my mood. I’m a bit cranky. The dog and cat had a standoff and the lamp fell and the bulb was a casualty. Naturally I have no extra bulbs. Both of the animals ran in different directions, and I cursed the two of them. The three phone calls I’ve had so far this morning were all medical. My new glasses are in, my prescription is ready and would I like to save money by switching prescription providers. Not a pleasant call in the bunch. My other cat has appeared and so far she has escaped my wrath. I am blaming my back for all of this. I used to be pleasant, the sort that sings and has birds land on her finger to sing along. Okay, I stole that one from Sleeping Beauty. See, the day is so bad I’m even plagiarizing.
I want a season all by itself. I don’t want a winter’s night and a spring day. When the windows are open and fresh air fills the house, I almost can’t get enough of it. Everything the sun touches looks new. On a sunny day Gracie stays out most of the day. Right now she’s sleeping on the couch and snoring.
Yesterday I did errands and today I have more to do. That is so wrong. It ruins my day inside and my day outside pattern. I should not have to get dressed and should be able to sit around and read all day today interrupted only by a nap. See, I warned you I was cranky!
Categories: Musings
Tags: bad back, cranky, Dleeping Beauty, grumpy, Margaret Thatcher, rain, spring or winter?
Comments: 20 Comments
April 9, 2013
The morning is a bit chillier than yesterday’s but is just as pretty. The sun makes all the difference. Every morning now seems to take me a bit longer to retrieve the papers because I stop to admire my front garden. I forgot how many bulbs were planted last fall so the garden is a gift, a present, filled with color and all sorts of spring flowers which delight me. The pink and the purple hyacinths are in bloom and the yellow daffodils are by the front steps.
I had an early meeting this morning, my library board. I actually woke up before the alarm, set for 8, because I was cold. I had left the window open all night, and it got chilly. Gracie was huddled beside me on one side and Fern on the other. I grabbed the blankets to try to go back to sleep but decided I might as well get up. It was close anyway. To think I used to get up at 5 or 5:15 and here I am complaining about 8.
Annette died. I read it first on Facebook and today there was a huge obituary in the paper. She was 70 and had been suffering from MS for years. I can still see Annette in her tutu and ballet slippers dancing on the Mouseketeer stage. She was, for many boys, their first crush. For us, she was the girl we wanted as a friend because we knew she’d never let us down. She was too good for that. Annette was perfect. She was quiet, polite and wholesome, even on the beach with Frankie Avalon.
Every afternoon I had the same ritual. Come home from school, change into play clothes, go out for a bit then come in and watch Superman and The Mickey Mouse Club. I sang along with the opening Mickey Mouse Club March and with the songs for the days of the week. I never missed Spin and Marty or the Hardy Boys. I thought Cubby and Karen were cute. No boys had the same reaction on me that Annette had on every prepubescent boy watching the show. Even now, after all these years, I remember most of the songs and MICKEY MOUSE comes easily and I always remember to add Donald Duck. I used to love it when he’d put the cymbals on his ears. The end theme was a heart tugger. We were family saying good-bye but happily we’d see each other real soon.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Annette, Because we like you, Mickey Mouse Club, Mickey Mouse Club March, See you real soon, Spin and Marty, sunny day, Why
Comments: 36 Comments
April 8, 2013
The day is a delight with sunny skies and a temperature in the high 50’s. Gracie has been out all morning. I will join her in a bit as the feeders need filling, and I need sun.
Today I am tired and bored. Nothing piques my interest. New books on my iPad are just waiting to be read, but I’m not in the mood. I have to go to Hyannis this afternoon for a Cat scan on my back, and I’m bemoaning the trek as if I have a continent to cross. The Red Sox have their home opener at 2, and I will probably watch the festivities. This is unusual for me, this bout of ennui.
The dog woke me up this morning with her intruder bark. I opened the front door and saw my landscaper fertilizing the lawn. We chatted a little bit about the moss which is taking over for a part of the grass. He says he’ll take care of it. I have a feeling I hit the highlight of my day, a conversation about moss. Later I got to thinking how I opened the door without a second thought. If I were the throw away character in a horror movie, a creature would have been in the yard hunting for breakfast. I’d run screaming and Gracie would bark. I’d get eaten and she’d survive by running out the back door. Good thing it was my landscaper.
I’ve concluded my mood comes from my back being painful and from my travel addiction. I can’t seem to solve either one. The back started a couple of weeks ago, and I moan and groan a lot from the pain. The doctor is doing his best, but I suspect nothing will change. I’ll just have to moan a bit more quietly. As for the travel addiction, I have no plans to travel this year. The bank needs to be replenished. Two trips to Ghana were expensive so this is a year to save for the next trip. I’m thinking maybe a weekend somewhere might be in order, but even that could be a bank breaker. Maybe I’ll sit on the deck with posters of the world pinned to the wall, and I’ll pretend I’m on an ocean liner. Every drink will have an umbrella. I’m just going to have to find a cabana boy!
Categories: Musings
Tags: bird feeders, ennui, grass, monsters, moss, pretty day, Red Sox
Comments: 28 Comments
April 7, 2013
Still a bit on the chilly side, but the weatherman promised 50˚. I, however, am skeptical. Breakfast was tasty at the diner this morning: French toast with Canadian bacon, sort of an international meal says I with tongue in cheek. Gracie and I made one stop on the way home, and that should do it for the day.
On my way home I got to thinking about the seasons. Maybe it was all the flowers I saw as I passed by front gardens. I decided spring is a flamboyant old woman who wears boas and flowing scarfs and dresses. She is bright with color. Her movements are exaggerated. She speaks quickly and her hands are always in motion. Her purple boa is around her neck like a scarf and the fluffy part waves from her breath when she speaks. Spring’s clothes are never color coordinated. That’s not her point.
Winter is an old man hunched by age. He wears a long dark coat almost to his ankles. It has large black buttons. He wears a hat, a fedora, which doesn’t cover his ears. They are perpetually cold. He keeps his hands clenched in his coat pockets hoping for a bit of warmth which doesn’t come. His fingers are stiff from the cold. Winter shuffles when he walks. He wears galoshes which are never snapped and barely stay on his feet. Winter is always sad-looking.
Summer wears orange and yellow and flip-flops. Her shirts are covered in huge flowers that look like orchids. Her face and arms are tanned. Her freckles have returned. There is a lightness to her, a reflection maybe of the warmth of the sun. She is joyful at the beauty of the day.
Fall is the season with the most difficult of all personalities. It is a bit of summer and a hint of winter. The last flashes of color are in the garden. The trees are ablaze with reds and yellows. I always think fall is giving us a warning of what is to come and is playing with us a bit. The mornings have a chill while the afternoons are warm, and, once the sun goes down, the evenings are cold. Fall dresses in muted colors and, after the summer, seems quiet, even contemplative. Sometimes I think of fall as a long line of monks wearing brown robes with their cowls over the heads as they walk slowly and sing a Gregorian chant.
Categories: Musings
Tags: colors, fall, summer, the seasons, weather, winter'spring
Comments: 17 Comments
April 6, 2013
My house was cold when I woke up this morning. I needed socks. Without warm feet, I’m doomed to feel chilly even in slippers. I felt a bit of a nip in the air when I went to get the papers. Gracie was quickly out and quickly back inside. She and the two cats are having their morning naps. After all, they have been up all of three hours.
I wonder who first decided toast was for breakfast. I toast sandwich bread too but mostly I don’t, except for BLT bread which demands to be toasted. I always toast my bread for breakfast so a toaster is a must in my kitchen. Was toast happenstance or a brilliant idea? That’s one of the mysteries of life. I hate crooked pictures. Why go to all the trouble of locating the right spot, finding a nail, hammering it onto the wall and then hanging a picture you totally forget about? Pictures by their very shape need to be straight. I don’t mind an unmade bed. I like a made bed better, but I’m okay if it’s unmade. I think that’s because I don’t go upstairs enough to be bothered by it. Sometimes clothes sit in my dryer for a few days or even a week until I do laundry again. Folding it and then bringing the laundry up two flights is one of my least favorite chores. The laundry rush used to happen when I ran out of clean underwear, but that’s no longer the case. I bought plenty for my trip to Ghana so the laundry can sit in the dryer for a while. I don’t care about wrinkles. No where I go has a sign which says shoes, shorts and no wrinkles. Dirty dishes in the sink drive me crazy. I wash them by hand every day as I don’t have near enough for the dishwasher, and I want my favorite coffee cup every morning. I hate bad grammar being spoken on a TV series. It perpetuates the downfall of the English language. I care, but other people don’t. I get the line,”You understood it, didn’t you? That drives me crazy. If a song is sung off-tune, I can still hear it. Is that enough?
I have to go out today. Gracie and I have a few errands, but I’ll have to wait until later this afternoon. I’d hate to disturb her nap-time.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bad grammar, clean underwear, cold, crooked pictures, faavorite coffee cup, Laundry, nip in the air, off-key singing, Toast, unmade beds
Comments: 22 Comments
April 5, 2013
The day is gray and rainy. Good thing I have no errands so I can just hang around and do house stuff. Yesterday I had three errands including my eye exam, the last of the yearly doctors’ visits. Unless I break or tear something open, I don’t have to see another doctor until next year. I do need a cat scan on my back which has been really bad for the last couple of weeks. I’m still a pretzel when I walk. I had to turn down working the marathon this year. I knew it would be too much. The cat scan is next week.
I don’t know what has happened to spontaneity. When I was a kid, it ruled our lives. We had school all week and church on Sunday, but the rest of the time was there for us to do whatever we wanted, most times on the spurn of the moment. Mention doing something now and people pull out calendars, and it seems to take forever to find a mutually free day. I remember the doorbell ringing around 2 one morning. It was my friend and her husband. His first homegrown tomatoes were ripe, and they were inviting me right then and there for BLT’s. I ran upstairs and got dressed. Another time I heard honking, and I went outside to find out what was going on. A couple of my friends were there who said, “Let’s go!” I grabbed my bag and went. I didn’t even ask where. Part of the fun was not knowing.
My friends and I have these wonderful theme parties, but they have to be planned. What is Cowboy Day without the right ten gallon hat and chuck wagon food? No skulls to decorate for Day of the Dead? What are you thinking? Chinese New Year means chop sticks and the right decorations. You can’t use a tiger during the year of the pig. I love all our parties, but just once I’d like to knock on doors, wake up my friends and invite them to a surprise, but I don’t dare. I expect they’d be a bit unnerved at the door bell ringing and maybe even upset, annoyed or angry at the intrusion and at being woken up. Twenty years ago I wouldn’t have hesitated. We were all a lot more flexible back then and there was nothing neater than a surprise. Now the best thing is a good night’s sleep. That’s too bad. Surprises are great fun.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bad back, Cowboy Day, good night's sleep, rainy day, spontaneous, surprises, theme parties
Comments: 8 Comments
April 4, 2013
The sun is shining but it is not warm, a bit of a deception I think. The sky is deep blue and beautiful. Lots of birds are taking advantage of the free food at the feeders. There is even a waiting line.
Hunky dory was part of an answer in the crossword puzzle today. It got me thinking. I don’t remember the last time I even heard anyone say hunky dory which is too bad as it has a great sound when said out loud, and it is one of those phrases which defies description. It’s a context guess but a tough one. Answer everything is hunky dory and tone alone would have to give the clue.
I do the crossword puzzle every day, and I’m noticing that many of the answers seem too easy. Most of these are historical, but for me, they’re like yesterday as I lived through them. I can imagine a twenty or thirty someone sitting and mulling. In my day, they’d chew on the eraser and mull. Now, I guess they sit at the keyboard. I can’t believe that sitting at the keyboard gives the same sort of help that chewing an eraser did. I was able to fill in every square, and I also did the cryptogram in a short time this morning. I felt smart.
Rhetorical questions were the bane of my childhood. “What do you think you’re doing?” sounds like a legitimate question but giving an answer was talking back. It took me a while to sort that out. “Who do you think you are?” was another one of those questions to avoid. It was usually asked when I’d already done something wrong, something above my station. My mother was a master at the rhetorical question. As soon as she asked, “And who do you think is cleaning that up?” I headed to get the whisk broom and the dust pan.
My mother was also the queen of quilt. She got us every time. When she’d ask us to do something and we’d say in a minute, my mother went into her theatrics. “Never mind. I’ll do it myself,” she’d say oozing with self-pity and disappointment. We’d scurry to get done what she wanted. Sometimes, though, she’d add to the guilt by saying, “Too late. I’ll do it myself.” That was a heavy burden to carry, and she knew it. My mother was a master at her art.
Categories: Musings
Tags: cold, dust pan, guilt, hunky dory, mothers, pencils, rhetorical question, sunny day, theatrics, whisk broom
Comments: 15 Comments
April 2, 2013
Spring is in hiatus. My furnace is blasting away, and I’m glad as the house was cold this morning. There was no lingering to appreciate the flowers and the colors in my front garden when I went to get the papers. I noticed a few feeders need filling so I’ll venture out to the deck later. One errand only today: dog food and cat litter at Agway.
The Red Sox were tremendous yesterday. I wore my green Sox t-shirt and my blue sweatshirt with the World Series Emblem. Rally monkey sat and watched the entire game having nothing to do: the Sox led the whole time. We had hot dogs for lunch as befitting a ballgame. Much of the team is new, and this was their first game in a Boston uniform so we spent time trying to figure out who was at bat, but Pedroia we know and his first at bat was a single, a great way to open his season! I know it’s only one game, but it is the first opener the Sox have won in a while. It was a good afternoon.
Watching baseball made me impatient for summer. My deck is still wearing winter with all the furniture covered, the candles packed away and the yard ornaments in storage. I want warm mornings and breakfast on the deck. I can hardly wait for our first Saturday movie. I don’t have a theme for this year so I’ll have to start thinking and looking. I do have a new bird for the yard, a Christmas present. It is white, looks a bit like an egret and is huge. In my Easter basket was a small door and two small windows, obviously for a garden sprite to set up housekeeping. I also have some new lights, two stars with trails of lights, for the trees in the back. The backyard in summer is magical.
I remember lit punk sticks from when I was little. They had this smell I can still identify, and I loved waving the stick around as if it were a sparkler. I used to watch as the stick burned smaller and smaller. The smell kept the bugs away but I never noticed. It was the fun of the punk stick I remember the most.
We used mosquito coils in Ghana because lots of places had no screens. I really liked the smell of them as they burned. The coil had a hole at the smallest part, and you had to be careful when you fit the hole on the holder or the coil could break. The coils burned from the outside ring to the inside smallest ring. Ash just fell on the floor. Once, when my friends and I were hitching a ride from Koforidua to Accra, a Mercedes-Benz stopped. The owner of the car was a Lebanese man who made and sold mosquito coils. He gave us a few to take with us. The other part of that ride I remember is we were in the back seat where the smell of the exhaust was almost overpowering. We opened both windows and stuck our heads out so we’d survive the ride, but it was worth it: we got free mosquito coils and a ride in a Mercedes all the way to Accra.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Baseball, cold day, hot dogs, magic, mosquito coil, mosquito coils, punk sticks, Red Sox, summer, the deck'movies, where's spring?
Comments: 27 Comments
April 1, 2013
Easter was wonderful. The sun was shining the whole day in celebration. Dinner was perfect. Our table was at a window overlooking the water. Just for the fun of it, we brought a light up bunny from the Easter basket to decorate the table. Miss Bunny was pink with flowered fabric hands and ears, a lace collar and lights which blinked and she was quite the conversation piece. People pointed and laughed and chatted with us about our dinner guest. We took Miss Bunny’s picture as a memento of her big day. We each had a few drinks, generous drinks, and the food was delicious. My plate was empty with only a bit of gravy to prove there had been a dinner. The restaurant was totally filled, but we had a favorite couple seated near us. They were old, and the wife had to help her husband sit down. She was wearing a bright yellow spring coat and the best hat ever, round and flowered. I took a picture as she was taking it off at the table-the woman is smiling from ear to ear. They ordered martinis, and I liked that couple even more. After dinner, over dessert, we all agreed we loved our Easter tradition of dinner at the Ocean House.
Today is baseball’s opening day. Last year my Sox were in last place at the end of the season so any other place would be an improvement. The game is against the Yankees and starts at 1. I’ll wear my Red Sox sweatshirt and cheer like crazy. I am an eternal optimist. The Globe has been filled with articles discussing this year’s team and the toxicity of last year’s. Jackie Bradley Jr. is 23 and never got as high as Triple A, but he’s going to be in left field today and is, “Ready to start the adventure.” You have to love a baseball player who still thinks of baseball as a game, an adventure, and not a business. His fiancé and his parents will be at the game to watch his debut. Welcome to Boston, Jackie!
I remember the baseball of my childhood. It was when baseball sang of summer, of pick-up games in fields, of the whack of the wooden bats and the taunting from the outfield, “No Batter, no batter.” Baseball was seldom complicated: three up, three down and nine innings or less if we got hot, tired or thirsty. We shared gloves so everyone would have one. We only had one ball, and if it got lost, the game was halted while we all hunted for it in the tall grass beside the field. Bases were whatever we could find, and we’d pace out the distance between them one sneaker heel to toe to the other. We didn’t have umpires, and we’d get impatient at batters who stayed in the box far too long. Safe or out at one of the bases often became an argument, but not a serious argument, and we always settle it fairly so the game could continue. Baseball was easy to love when we were kids.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Baseball, dinner, Easter, Easter hat, opening day, pick up baseball, Red Sox, summer ball, water view
Comments: 20 Comments
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