Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

“Like Alexander the Great and Caesar, I’m out to conquer the world. But first I have to stop at Walmart and pick up some supplies. ”

February 12, 2013

Clean, warm and happy describes me perfectly. The sun is out, snow is dripping off the roof, and the ice will soon melt. I hear the blast of heat from my furnace, the sweetest of sounds.

The road was black ice when I went to get the paper this morning. It had rained last night then the rain froze. As luck would have it, my paper was under the car. I needed to get the broom so I could push the paper out from underneath so I had to go back inside the house, a scary venture given my history with ice, but both times, in and out, I took minced steps. The road was so slippery ice skates would have served me better. The last thing I wanted was another fall. I still have pain from the first.

Gracie has been out most of the morning. She is my weather barometer. Speaking of which, the paper mentioned that unless the government decides to replace aging weather satellites, our polar-orbiting satellites will not be accurate for forecasting weather by 2016. Sandy’s landfall and this storm were accurately tracked and predicted by the European center for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts while the best model we have didn’t predict this as a really big storm. Soon enough I’ll have to rely on cranky knees and elbows for my forecasts. Oops, my back hurts, must be rain coming.

Today I step outside into the world, my first time since Friday. I suspect nothing has changed though, without TV or newspapers, I did miss some world-wide news. The Pope resigned and horse meat was taken off the grocery shelves. That news was still headlining yesterday’s paper. On the sports’ page, Red Sox spring updates have begun. Pitchers and catchers are already at spring training. Perhaps the Sox will do better than the cellar, their last occupied spot in the standings.

The local schools are not open again today. Even when I was a teacher, I loved snow days though today is more like a shelter day as the high school is still being used as one. Not everybody has electricity back. Thursday is the day being tossed about by NStar as to when all will be restored. If it were my house, I know they would find me sitting on the couch frozen and looking much like Jack Nicholson did in the maze at the end of the Shining.

I seem to have written far more than I expected for someone who has been living a sheltered life. Maybe tomorrow, after my jaunt outside, I will be bursting with news, jokes and commentaries about the world at large.

Did I mention I’m going to the dentist?

“So all night long the storm roared on: The morning broke without a sun; In tiny spherule traced with lines Of Nature’s geometric signs, And, when the second morning shone, We looked upon a world unknown…”

February 11, 2013

The electricity came on at 10:45 this morning, nearly three days since my return to the days of Little House on the Prairie last Friday night. The heat is cranking and the house is now a balmy 47˚. When I woke up this morning, it was 39˚. I am still wearing three pairs of socks, a shirt, sweatshirt with a hood and a really heavy wool sweater, and Gracie is still wearing her coat as well. The mittens helped a little, but my hands were cold the whole time. The worst, though, was my cold nose. The only time it was warm was at night with my face under the covers, a doubled over down comforter and a second doubled over comforter, and I kept my hood up to protect my head.

You could see your breath in my house this morning. Outside was warmer.

The first morning (on Saturday) I heated my coffee from the night before in a pan on the fire. I had two cups, more to get my hands warm than anything else. I kept the fire going all day and had the quilts bundled around me. That day I had hope. There was a lot of hard wood in the cellar which I carried up, falling only once down just three steps. I broke some dishes on a bureau beside the steps and cursed and cried a little, more from frustration than anything else. I was close enough to the fire that I could feel some warmth and Gracie was beside me as was Fern. Poor Maddie meowed every time I went by and patted her and Maddie is never a meower. I read a real book, a Patterson called Zoo, that day as there was no way I was leaving the comforters or the fire except when Gracie wanted out. I was warm sleeping that night bundled as I was with the layers over me.

Sunday morning the house was 44˚. One of my neighbors brought the papers from the driveway to me as she was checking on all the neighbors. I told her I was fine except for coffee, my life’s blood. About an hour later she returned with a cup, and my day was made (such as it was!). I was running out of wood, my phone’s battery was in the red, no dog food left and my car was still stuck in the snow. I was freezing and Fern was so cold she got under the covers and Maddie got up on the couch with the dog, something she never does. I called my sister with an update of my misery. The only shelter which accepts animals was full, and I wasn’t about to leave them so I could go elsewhere. A while later my sister called. She had tried to find a motel which accepted animals but wasn’t lucky then she remembered my nephews. It took three calls to wake them up, but they were more than happy to come over. Amber, my nephew Tim’s girl friend, came and kept me company and brought gifts for me for the two of them. They have just come back from Australia, Bali, Hawaii and San Diego. They were in Australia working for a year and then stayed to tour for another few months. They’ve been gone a year and a half total. They also brought coffee, wood and dog food. They (Mike, my other nephew, and Tim) shoveled out my car and the walk. Amber said she hadn’t ever been in a house so cold. It was still 44˚ when she was here.

Last night was freezing. Gracie, Fern and I shared the couch, but I had to get up a couple of times to rearrange all of us so I’d be comfortable. I couldn’t believe how cold the house felt. Then, as I said, it was 39˚ when I woke up.

The house is 55 balmy degrees right now. I should be sun bathing in the warmth!

If I ever go on vacation, I needn’t worry as there are plenty of pseudo-Kats to write Coffee. I thoroughly enjoyed reading my blog!! I got a few laughs, and have to admit you sounded an awful lot like me!!

Birds are still fine. I filled all the feeders on Friday, and there is still seed in the biggest feeder!

As for the Spawns, I haven’t seen any!

No mice in four days!

“About the woodlands I will go / To see the cherry hung with snow.”

February 8, 2013

Sorry for the late morning, but I met friends for our monthly breakfast. We worked together for years and are all retired now so this is our way of staying in touch. During breakfast, the snow started. The flakes are small and wet so none are sticking, but that will happen soon enough. I bought seed and suet this morning so I need to fill the feeders as soon as I finish here.

My car is backed into the driveway, the best spot to get it freed after the plowing. I have no reason to leave the house so I’ll hunker down and watch the weather on TV. I got a chuckle yesterday when I read in the paper that a weatherman calls it weather porn when people are mesmerized by the news and pictures of extraordinary weather on TV.

I still get excited when it snows but not the same way I did when I was a kid. In those days a big snow storm meant sledding down the huge hill on which we lived, building snow forts, having snow ball fights and, if we were lucky, a snow day. We’d be up early hoping to hear the fire whistle announce no school, and if it did, we’d cheer and get dressed right away to play in the snow. On went the snow pants, a sweater, the winter coat, a scarf, mittens, a hat and boots.

I remember the first few runs down the hill on my wooden sled after the big storm. The snow ruts from the sled’s runners were red, rusty from the sled sitting in the cellar all summer and fall. After a couple of runs, the rust would disappear, and the sled would go  so much faster. We’d hold the sled with both hands, run for all we were worth and jump on the sled, stomachs down and feet in the air then whiz down the hill. Steering was never easy. The front of the sled turned left or right but not very far. Hitting a snow bank was common. We’d hope to go all the way down the hill into the field at the bottom. That was an accomplishment. We’d grab the sled’s rope, usually icy by then, and walk back up the hill for another run.

The little kids sledded down the hill in the backyard. That way they were off the street and under the watchful eyes of parents.  Most had wooden sleds but a few had metal flying saucers which went wherever as there was no way to control them. You just slid down the hill, sometimes in circles. The little kids always walked back up the hill along the side yards so they wouldn’t wreck the run.

By the time we went in the house through the cellar, ice was stuck to our clothes, mittens were soaked, snow was inside the boots and we were shivering, but I don’t remember being cold. I just remember those runs as the most fun of the whole winter.

“Snow flurries began to fall and they swirled around people’s legs like house cats. It was magical, this snow globe world.”

February 7, 2013

The morning had a bit of promise when I woke up around 9. The sun was shining, and it was cold but bearable. I put the coffee on and went out to get yesterday’s mail and the newspapers. I noticed much of the ice had melted yesterday, but, true to form, I still managed to find one icy patch and down I went. The mail scattered, and I whacked my elbow enough to make me yell; of course, no one saw or heard me. I stayed there a minute or two then slid over to the street where there was no ice so I could get up without falling again. I managed to get up, grabbed my mail and papers and went inside. My elbow was killing me so I sat on the stairs, held onto it and moaned a bit. Gracie came over and put her head in my lap. That’s just what I needed, a bit of sympathy. The elbow has a huge lump, and I’m sure it will be black and blue, but no bones were broken so it was a good fall. I’d give it an 8.

Snow is coming in what the paper has called historical proportions. Blizzard warnings are in effect in most of the state except here where we have a winter storm warning. It’s a nor’easter which could bring up to two feet or even more, up to 30 inches, of snow. The exact amount is still fluid as the weather pattern could change. Down here on the cape, we’ll have, for a time, a mixture of rain and snow so they’re only predicting about 9 inches for us. The snow will become heavy tomorrow afternoon and evening with 2 or 3 inches an hour falling. I have all my groceries, but I don’t have sustaining weather food: some chocolate or some ice cream (ironic food for a snow storm) or even cookies. Gracie and I are going to the dump later so we’ll stop and pick up a few things.

No mice in the last three days so I’ll have to check the trap to see if I set it right. If the peanut butter is gone, it means the mouse dined without being caught. The trap has to be set exactly right to work, and it takes me a while to do that. I find it frustrating though I can’t argue with the results.

The sun is back as is the blue sky. Mother Nature is giving us a bit of treat before the wallop. She does have an ironic sense of humor!

“I am an omnivorous reader with a strangely retentive memory for trifles.”

February 5, 2013

Snow is lightly falling and has been all morning, but I doubt it will amount to much. When I went to get the papers, I almost fell as I didn’t see the ice hidden under the new snow. The ice is from the snow of a couple of nights ago which melted during the day yesterday but froze when the temperature dropped in the darkness of the late afternoon. How I didn’t fall is a mystery. I am a faller, a tripper, a down on my butt person so saving myself  is new to me, a miracle of sorts.

I’m feeling so much better that it was a busy day for me yesterday. I filled the feeders, watered plants, put laundry away, swept the kitchen floor, took down the wreaths and took off all their ornaments to save for next year and even made my bed.

We had a mouse yesterday, the first in a few days. When I went to bed, it was in the trap so Gracie and I did a midnight run. It was cold, really cold, but I decided not to leave the mouse in the trap all night. I know the mouse has to be let free over a mile away so its loses its homing instinct so Gracie and I drove to our usual spot. When I opened the trap, that mouse took off like a shot. Some mice have to be shaken a few times before I can get them out of the trap, but not this one. It was out and running. I left it at a spot where a few of the other mice have been freed. I have this vision, like Mole’s little home in The Wind in the Willows, where the other mice invite the new one into their homes where the fire is warming, the chair comfy and the bread and cheese is on the table. I know. I know. My imagination has gone amok!

I always wonder how I know some things. I probably read or heard them and my mind just put them away in my memory drawers for later use. At trivia one night the question was which cartoon character was introduced in the comic strip Thimble Theater in 1929. I said Popeye. Not one person on my team accepted my answer. They discussed it among themselves without any consideration that I might be right though I did offer Popeye one more time, but it was as if I had said nothing. They agreed on some other answer and turned it in. The correct answer was Popeye. They blamed me for the wrong answer saying I should have been more insistent.

In the crossword puzzle today the clue was ______Novo. I , of course, filled in Porto. That was easy. It is a city in Benin which used to be Dahomey when I lived in Africa. That’s one of the weird facts for which I know the origin. Thimble Theater still escapes me.

“I don’t believe in reincarnation, and I didn’t believe in it when I was a hamster.”

February 4, 2013

About an inch of snow fell last night. With the sun glinting off the ice crystals, the morning is a pretty one, but it’s cold out. I swept the snow from the walk and my car windows, got the paper then ran inside to the warmth of the house. I’ll have to venture onto the deck later as the feeders are empty.

No mouse was in the trap this morning though the trap had been sprung, but the peanut butter was still there so one of the cats could very well have been the culprit as the trap is so sensitive to touch. I’ll reset the trap and put it back in the eaves, but I haven’t found a mouse in a few days. Gracie is a bit disappointed. She enjoys her late evening mouse runs. The last mouse was my favorite. It was let loose near some woods and to get there it ran, hopped, ran and hopped again. I watched it until it disappeared into the woods. As always, I wished it well.

I had hamsters once. The guy at the pet store swore they were both males; he was half right. Those hamsters had several babies, but I did find homes and then put the two of them in separate cages. Those cages were in my bedroom. The female hamster learned how to open the cage and escaped often even after we closed it with more wire. One of the cats captured that hamster and was playing with it in the bathtub. The hamster would try and climb the side to get away, and the cat would bring it right back. It was like the Myth of Sysyphus without the rock. My mother saved the hamster which, you find later in the story, was a bit ironic. I had one of those furry rugs popular in the 60’s. It was a round one on the floor in my bedroom. The rug was bright pink. The hamster pulled it close to the cage and chewed off a section of the rug for her nest. It was one pretty colorful nest, and I had a rug with a circular piece missing. People saw the rug with the missing piece but never asked. I would have been curious. Eventually the male hamster died and the female escaped. It lived somewhere in the house, but we didn’t find it until later, until its demise. The hamster had been living behind the stove, and when my mother turned on the stove one time, the hamster, the same one my mother had saved, bit into a wire and was electrocuted. We called my mother the Lord High Executioner for a while. She never really warmed to that name.

“I don’t believe in reincarnation, and I didn’t believe in it when I was a hamster.”

February 4, 2013

About an inch of snow fell last night. With the sun glinting off the ice crystals, the morning is a pretty one, but it’s cold out. I swept the snow from the walk and my car windows, got the paper then ran inside to the warmth of the house. I’ll have to venture onto the deck later as the feeders are empty.

No mouse was in the trap this morning though the trap had been sprung, but the peanut butter was still there so one of the cats could very well have been the culprit as the trap is so sensitive to touch. I’ll reset the trap and put it back in the eaves, but I haven’t found a mouse in a few days. Gracie is a bit disappointed. She enjoys her late evening mouse runs. The last mouse was my favorite. It was let loose near some woods and to get there it ran, hopped, ran and hopped again. I watched it until it disappeared into the woods. As always, I wished it well.

I had hamsters once. The guy at the pet store swore they were both males; he was half right. Those hamsters had several babies, but I did find homes and then put the two of them in separate cages. Those cages were in my bedroom. The female hamster learned how to open the cage and escaped often even after we closed it with more wire. One of the cats captured that hamster and was playing with it in the bathtub. The hamster would try and climb the side to get away, and the cat would bring it right back. It was like the Myth of Sysyphus without the rock. My mother saved the hamster which, you find later in the story, was a bit ironic. I had one of those furry rugs popular in the 60’s. It was a round one on the floor in my bedroom. The rug was bright pink. The hamster pulled it close to the cage and chewed off a section of the rug for her nest. It was one pretty colorful nest, and I had a rug with a circular piece missing. People saw the rug with the missing piece but never asked. I would have been curious. Eventually the male hamster died and the female escaped. It lived somewhere in the house, but we didn’t find it until later, until its demise. The hamster had been living behind the stove, and when my mother turned on the stove one time, the hamster, the same one my mother had saved, bit into a wire and was electrocuted. We called my mother the Lord High Executioner for a while. She never really warmed to that name.

“An atheist is a man who watches a Notre Dame – Southern Methodist University game and doesn’t care who wins.”

February 3, 2013

I woke to a cold morning with a dusting of snow and a whitish grey sky. The breeze is ever so slight. Only the tips of the brown leaves sway. Snow sits on the oak and pine branches and covers all but the tall grass in the backyard. I think the day is pretty in its own way, even without the sun. Goldfinches and nuthatches are at the feeders. I don’t know where my chickadees have gone.

Gracie, Fern and Maddie are having their morning naps. Gracie went out for a short time and came running back inside as if she were being chased. She had spit on her forehead, always a sign she had run around the yard with her mouth open and her tongue hanging. Gracie does yard loops and runs around three or four times without stopping. My yard is big so she is always panting when the loops are done.

My big plans for today are to water the plants and go to the dump. Later I’ll watch the Puppy Bowl, one of my favorite Super Bowl Sunday events. Usually my friends and I get together for the game, but I’m still on the mend so I’ll stay home. I won’t even get dressed in outside clothes. The dump has no dress code.

My father spent every Sunday of football season watching a game, usually by himself. None of us were interested. He’d sit in the living room, eat snacks and yell and jump off the couch when something really good or really bad happened. We were usually in the kitchen. He’d come out to get something else to eat or drink and give us an update. We’d commiserate when his team was losing and give encouraging sounds, but we didn’t really care. Once in a while he’d yell to us about some play, and we’d go in the living for a minute or two and check out the TV. Most of the time I had no idea what he was talking about. Football, other than knowing a few basics, was a foreign language to me. I know a lot more now, even about some plays, the jobs of the different positions and special teams, but I still need my football to English dictionary.

“Even a snail will eventually reach its destination.”

February 2, 2013

I’m walking on sunshine! I slept through the night and for the second day in a row no mice graced my trap which will now be moved into the eaves to see if there are any left hiding from me, but I’m thinking no more midnight mouse runs for Gracie and me. I’m sure she’ll be disappointed.

In the Globe this morning was an article about the US becoming a nation of the perpetually impatient. People under 35 lead connected lives with”…a need for instant gratification.” Researchers found people can’t wait more than a few seconds for a video to load. Two seconds was the average. “After five seconds, the abandonment rate is 25%. When you get to 10 seconds, half are gone.”

I am guilt of impatience, but I have always been impatient even since I was a kid. I tapped silverware at the table and drove my mother crazy. At the subway station I leaned over the tracks to see if the train was coming. My mother always grabbed me back. If we were going somewhere, I was always the first one ready and expected we’d leave on time. That seldom happened, and I’d moan and groan and throw myself down on the couch in frustration. That went on my whole life until I went to Ghana.

Ghana runs on two-time tables: Ghanaian and European. If you were going somewhere with a Ghanaian and you were making plans, a given time always elicited the question, “Ghanaian or European time?” Ghanaian time mean anytime: an hour, two hours or even three hours after the planned time. European time meant the actual hour. I learned that 7 o’clock meant I didn’t even have to start getting dressed until 8 or even later. If I arrived by nine, I was probably early. Buses in the lorry park left when they were full. Sometimes that meant waiting hours. I’d sit under a tree and read. When I was hungry, I’d buy some donuts, one of all time favorite Ghanaian treats, or groundnuts or whatever the small girl was selling from the tray on her head. Impatience was wasted energy. It changed nothing.

The tailor promised my dress would be ready by Tuesday which became Wednesday when probably meant Saturday or not. I never got angry or annoyed. The tailor was just taking his time, his Ghanaian time.

Once I sat at the Yeji ferry site for four hours while we waited for some government higher up who wanted the ferry there when he arrived. I drank some water with floaties (we always bought the beer bottle filled with water which had the least amount of floaties), ate some plantain, took some pictures, sat on an overturned boat and read and watched all the people. Finally the guy came and we boarded the bus when was then loaded on the ferry. I wasn’t frustrated or impatient. I knew better.

When I came home, my lessons were, over time, unlearned. The bar was higher here. I expected people to be on time. I expected busses and planes to leave at their appointed hours. I got annoyed and frustrated when they didn’t.

When I went back to Ghana, I right away fell into Ghanaian time. The lessons I had learned way back were still ingrained. “Less tomorrow,” a Ghanaian would tell me. That always meant another day yet to be determined. I was only to happy to wait.

“Sometimes a headache is all in your head. Relax.”

February 1, 2013

Today is cold. We had a short visit from spring the last couple of days, but winter has returned. The day is cloudy and has nothing to commend it, nothing at all inviting.

Lee, who with his wife cleans my house, found a dead mouse yesterday. His forensic training led him to think it was a couple of days dead. The mouse was under a table and hidden by the table legs. I credit Maddie with the kill. She had crouched on the kitchen floor for a long time then went back to the chair, her usual napping spot. I guess her waiting had been fruitful, and she had disposed of the critter. That’s two for Maddie.

A mouse was in the trap when I went to bed last night so Gracie and I did the mouse ride. We go about a mile and a half before I let it go. The mouse always tries to hang on to the trap, but I shake it loose. I dropped last night’s near where two of his buddies had been dropped. Perhaps they’ll meet up and share experiences. No mouse this morning in the trap.

Staying home gives me no additional life experiences to relate. I can’t complain about drivers going so slowly I think they’re in pedal cars or grocery carts in the middle of the aisles. No panoramic scenes take my breath away. I stand at the kitchen window and watch the birds, but they seem to be the same birds every day who just perch at the feeders and seldom take a seed. Yesterday I saw the fattest spawn of Satan I’ve ever seen. It was on the deck, but I doubt it jumped from a tree. I think it took the stairs.

Today I do have a couple of things to keep me busy. I have a red pepper wreath my sister sent from Colorado, and I need to glue some of the peppers back on. Every year I cut up my Christmas cards to make gift tags for next year. I have that to do. Since I’ve been sick, my life more and more resembles living at Shady Pines, a lovely nursing home for the young at heart. I’m going to run for my life if I hear the word bingo!