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

January 5, 2013

Last night was one of those when will I ever get tired nights. Luckily, TCM kept me occupied with a slew of B science fiction movies. I got to see The Creature from the Black Lagoon, Tarantula, The Incredible Shrinking Man and It Came from Outer Space.  It was around two before It returned to Outer Space so I could go to bed. I love those movies as bad as they are at times. That’s the fun of them. In the Creature, a favorite of mine, the jungle is filled with howls and the sounds of animals. It is overgrown with vines and trees. The underwater is almost eerie with plants waving back and forth and trailing in the water. The best scene is when the Creature swims beneath the girl in the water and touches her foot a couple of times but touches it so gently the girl has no idea what is in the water below her. It’s the scene Spielberg borrowed for the start of Jaws though his opening ended a bit less gently. Later in the Creature, the girl, as per the rules of B movies, runs and then falls so the Creature can capture her and take her to his lair, a maze of underground caves. The brave men follow. One man dies. The girl is saved. The Creature isn’t until the sequel.

The morning is chilly, around 35˚, and the day won’t get much warmer. I have to go out for a few groceries. The larder is so empty it echoes.

There is a mouse living in my kitchen. It hangs around behind the refrigerator, and Maddie just sits and waits patiently for the beastie to appear. I have to think it stays well hidden as Maddie would have sent the beastie to its heavenly reward by now. She is a good and patient mouser.

Most of Christmas is gone now. I have a pile of decorations which needs to be taken down the cellar then the pine tree will go last. It stays decorated and is covered by a plastic bag until next year when it will assume its rightful place in the dining room.

The house seems dark and bare. I have a few electric candles I light in the living room and some pepper lights in the kitchen, and they do help a little to scare away the darkness, but the tree was magnificent. I miss the bubble lights, the red peppers, Santa and his reindeer flying up the tree, the white lights in the middle like stars and all those colored lights. Maybe it should be a winter tree. Christmas time doesn’t last long enough.

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“Never trust anyone who has not brought a book with them.”

January 4, 2013

The sun is shining, but it is just a ruse to draw me outside where I’ll freeze to death. The day looks a bit hazy as if I need to spin the lens to sharpen the image. The dump was on my agenda, but it will be far too cold as the wind there is like a blast of Arctic air. Gracie loves the dump, but she stays warm in the car wearing her Pendleton blanket coat. My back is a bit iffy today so hauling trash may not be the best idea.

The books have been flying off my iPad shelf. I have been in a reading frenzy. My favorite so far is Mr. Penumbrum’s 24-Hour Bookstore. I’m not quite sure how to describe it. There are books and there is technology, advanced technology of all sorts. One of the characters works for Google; another creates boob simulation software for which there is a huge market. The main character works in the bookstore, and it is he who prompts the action, as such. He finds coded books on the top most shelf, books he wasn’t supposed to read, and then the quest begins to solve the codes. Kat, great name for a character by the way, is the one who works for Google. It is she who buys a New York Times but can’t figure out to operate it. You have to love that line but you bemoan it at the same time. Real books take center stage so to speak in this novel which sort of made reading it on my iPad an oxymoron. I don’t know what prompted me to get this book, but I’m really happy I did.

When I was in Ghana last summer, I read eleven books in three weeks. In the mornings I’d sit on the porch with my coffee and I’d read. At night, I’d lie in bed and read myself to sleep. Even when the electricity went out, I had my iPad and all the light I needed. When I was a volunteer there, I read at every opportunity, much the same as I did last summer. Without the distraction of a TV, reading and listening to music are the best ways to spend time. That was about the only thing that didn’t change over the forty years in between visits.

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“New Year’s Day is every man’s birthday.”

January 1, 2013

Today is cold but warmer than yesterday. I can hear drips from the roof falling onto the deck as the snow melts. The birds are back. Even before my coffee I went outside and refilled the large feeder. I still haven’t located the bird bath heaters, but I know if I buy another, I’ll find the first two. That is the law of averages for me. I met my friend for breakfast this morning. I noticed a few other spots were opened as well, not like Christmas morning when the world seemed deserted except for my diner.

I’m going to watch the Rose Parade this morning as I do every year. I love the floats and am always amazed at how beautiful they are and sometimes how imaginative and whimsical. When the announcers list what was used to create them, I can’t imagine standing there gluing mustard seeds or the other small natural ingredients used to decorate them. I can’t even make decent looking crepe paper flowers with pipe cleaner stems.

The most difficult chore of this new year is remembering to put the right year on my checks. The first couple usually end up needing correction. Luckily, though, most of my bills are paid on-line, and they can figure out the year.

I have an empty dance card for this year, at least so far. No trips are planned though my travel bug itches for one. The deck looks deserted with its covered furniture, stacked tubs filled with decorations to be hung from the branches and with candles, lots of candles, to light and hang from the trees. Summer is a long way off when the ground is covered with snow.

Today I’ll go down to visit my friends, and we’ll play some games and eat dinner together. That’s the best start to a new year.

 

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“Snow and adolescence are the only problems that disappear if you ignore them long enough.”

December 30, 2012

The snow started around 11 last night. The flakes were big and wet, the sort that doesn’t seem to have much future. I went to bed really late, around 2, and was awakened not long after by the beep beep of a plow backing up. By then I think there were only a couple of inches. Sometime during the night rain mixed with the snow. This morning I expected a winter wonderland; instead, the snow is pockmarked, crusty and hard. I had to beat the snow to get it off the back window and the trunk so I could bring in the dried dog food. The weatherman says sun later. It’ll take a lot of sun to melt the crusty snow still on my car windshield.

This first storm of the season was a bust though I suspect if it weren’t I’d be complaining about shoveling and extracting my car from behind the tall heaps left by the plow. I think I can just drive my car over the small mound in front of it. I know I don’t need to shovel as I walked out and got the papers without a problem. Looking out the front door is keeping Gracie entertained. My neighbor across the street is shoveling his driveway, a quick, easy task with so little snow. He just pushes his shovel down to the end then back up the driveway again. Voila! The driveway is cleared.

Birds have been swooping in and out of the feeders all morning. A couple have tried to drink from the bird bath, but it is frozen. I’ll have to go down to the cellar later to find the heater. Yesterday I filled every single feeder and put out the new ones I got for Christmas. The birds should be pleased with the variety and the plenty.

Yesterday I really didn’t do a whole lot. I finished The Panther by Nelson DeMille. I liked it enough, but 900 pages was daunting as the book didn’t read as quickly as the other DeMille’s I’ve enjoyed. I started a new book, Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore. My iBook is filled with lots of books to read so I’m happy! Winter is a great time to stay comfy curled up with a book; of course, summer on the deck is also a great time for reading. The breeze is cooling and a good book is enthralling. Then again, we can’t forget spring or fall. each of those seasons lend themselves to reading as well.

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“Between Ennui and Ecstasy unwinds our whole experience of time.”

December 29, 2012

Today is raw which was always my mother’s description for damp and cold. The sky is that grey-white color which means rain or snow or, in our case, a bit of both. The snow will start off-Cape tonight while we’ll get rain then the tail end of the snow storm will hit us and bring maybe an inch or two or even up to four.

I’m not going anywhere today. The outside world doesn’t look all that inviting. I do have to fill a couple of feeders, and I’ll put the new one out and maybe fold and bring up the clothes in the dryer but that last one is a long shot.

When I sit down to write Coffee, I am often at a loss as to what to say. Day-to-day, or at least my day-to-day, is so consistent it lends itself to ennui, to boredom. Didn’t she just write about that I imagine you’re thinking as you read about Gracie and the weather. Other days my mind is filled with all sorts of neat stuff. Some of it is imaginative, and it grows out of daydreaming or a TV program or a book I’m reading, and I share even though you might think it borders on the crazy, the very weird. Memories often fill my mind triggered by something I saw or even smelled. You have all been to Ghana with me so many times I wonder if you groan and say, “Not Ghana again!” On my sloth days you already know that I’ll be doing nothing except reading and eating the proverbial bon bons.

What brought all this on? Well, one of the blogs I have been reading for years, Letters from a Hill Farm, is closing down. Nan has decided, “To live my life without writing about my life.” That got me thinking. I have been writing Coffee since 2004, the year I retired. I wrote every day for several years then I started taking Wednesdays off, a sort of mid-week breather. After my coffee and papers every morning, I sit in front of the computer hoping I have something to say, something you’ll enjoy or remember or something you can relate to. Where am I going with this? Not away as I really like writing and I love my Coffee family. I just want to be reassured that on days like today when I have nothing to say you’ll still listen.

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“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.”

December 27, 2012

It’s a gray day. The rain started late last night and continues this morning. When I let Gracie out, I noticed my back Christmas lights were lit. The timer’s sensor was duped by the darkness. I went out and turned them off then came back in, made coffee and was about to get my papers when the torrential rain started. It pelted the doors and windows. Undaunted, I got my umbrella and ran out to the drive-way for the papers. Right now it’s a quieter rain. I’m just glad it’s not snow.

The car is filled for the dump run. I hope it isn’t raining later, but my rainy day dump luck is generally bad. Usually it starts to pour just I drive through the gates. On my to-do list is also a couple of other errands, but no dump means no errands. I am actually hopeful I’ll be stuck in the house. Yesterday I did nothing all day, didn’t even make my bed. It was my day after Christmas sit around and enjoy life day. Today I’ll get to blame my sloth on the weather!

Christmas was wonderful. My friends and I opened gifts and enjoyed our Christmas feast. I opened ornaments from Africa. They are huts with straw roofs and are already on my tree. In my stocking, I got new socks. That doesn’t sound all that exciting, but if you saw my socks you’d understand as almost all of them have holes of some sort, usually in the toes. I hate to throw away socks with holes if they still cover most of my feet. Now, though, my two worst pairs can be thrown away after a small good-bye and thank you ceremony. My favorite gift is a bird made with PVC pipes. It has a long bill and crane like legs. This summer it will grace my backyard so we can all see it from the deck. Gracie got a new snowman and frosted dog biscuits. She also got a Santa that sings Jingle Bells when she carries it around. That I want to deep-six.

My Christmas tree is lit right now, and it shines brightly in the darkness of the day. Later, I’ll grab my iPod and lie on the couch in the living room to read so I can see the tree. It will be gone soon so I want to enjoy every moment, a year is a long time to wait until the next one.

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“Christmas is a day of meaning and traditions, a special day spent in the warm circle of family and friends.”

December 25, 2012

Merry Christmas, My Friends

No white Christmas here: it’s raining. I don’t mind though. It’s the day we celebrate, not the weather. My Christmas trees are lit and are bright with color. It took no time for the bubble lights to perk. I watched and waited. My friend and I met for Christmas breakfast, a tradition only three years old. It was at our usual Sunday spot, and this morning every booth was taken. The coffee was free, a Christmas gift from Tom and Nancy who own the diner. I bought bacon for Gracie.

Our gifts were always in the same place by the tree every Christmas. They were artfully displayed with a doll in the high chair, books front and center and games leaning so we could see them right away. We always got new games. The year of my brother’s bike had a different spin. The bike was in the kitchen, hidden so he’d be surprised. My father sent my brother for matches in he kitchen, and he got them without even seeing his bike. Finally my parents brought him to the kitchen and turned on the lights. I remember his bike had blinkers so he could signal his turns. My parents always acted surprised at what Santa had left.

In the afternoon, after Christmas dinner, we’d go to my grandparents’ house. My mother was one of eight children and all of them, but the two who still lived at home, brought their families there. Those two, an aunt and an uncle, were around my age, the aunt even younger than I. We hated leaving our presents at home, but we knew they’d be more when we got to East Boston to my grandparents’ house. Their tree was in the small room, and the room was filled with presents for all of us, for the grandchildren. My grandmother also had chocolates to hand out, Santas or reindeer. Spaghetti was always hot on the stove. It was one meal she could make enough of for all of us, the aunt, uncles and cousins.

We’d stay until early evening when my father would have us gather everything up, say goodbye and thank you to my grandparents then we’d grab our coats and head to the car. We always fell asleep on the way home from East Boston. Christmas was the most wonderful day.

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“Even as an adult I find it difficult to sleep on Christmas Eve. Yuletide excitement is a potent caffeine, no matter your age.”

December 24, 2012

When I was a kid, I knew today was the longest day of the year. It had everything to do with anticipation. Clock watching never helped. The clock’s hands took forever to move from one tick to the next, and every tick seemed to echo. Usually it was too cold to go outside and play so there was little to do to while away the hours. We’d watch television, and we’d watch Santa Claus, who had been on TV every afternoon for a few weeks from a station in New Hampshire. He’d be winding up his TV career, loading his sleigh and saying good-bye to all of us. As soon as it got dark, we pretended to be tired, but my mother knew. We just wanted to go to bed early hoping we’d fall asleep so the night would pass quickly. Supper was light. My mother always had the big dinner to prepare the next day so mostly we had sandwiches and sugar cookies for dessert. The tree looked especially beautiful on Christmas Eve. It was lit the whole day.

I remember one year on Christmas Eve my mother sent me to buy some ingredient she’d forgotten. I rode my bike to the red store. I couldn’t believe my mother had me doing an errand on such an important day. It just wasn’t right. Christmas Eve was too special for a simple errand.

If we were lucky, A Christmas Carol, the perfect movie for Christmas Eve, was on TV in the late afternoon or before dinner. I have never tired of watching Scrooge and his redemption. This year I have seen two different versions, both excellent: George C. Scott and Alastair Sim.

Just before bed, it was time to hang the stockings. They were red with white cuffs. Our names were on the cuffs and had gold glitter on them. The bannister was a small one but we managed to fit all four stockings. Though we didn’t have a fireplace, we never worried. Santa would find a way.

We’d lie in bed and talk from room to room until finally we’d drift off to sleep.

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“4 am—if I’m ever up that early, it’s because I’m up that late. ”

December 23, 2012

It was another one of those what time is it mornings when I first woke up. It was still dark, but when I looked out the window, I saw three houses ablaze with light. It being Sunday and all I figured it was late at night, but I was wrong. It was 4:45. Knowing I was done with sleep, I came downstairs, cranked up the heat and made coffee. It’s far too early for the papers.

Television is interesting this time of the morning. Infomercials rule the air waves. I think my favorite title was Holiday Hair Gain. I watched a bit of The Thing From Another Planet, but I’ve seen that so many times I know a lot of the dialogue. James Arness, though, does make a great Thing or Mr. Thing, I’m not sure of the protocol when it comes to flesh eating aliens. Dante’s Peak is on now. It is one movie which proves the rule that you can kill people but never a dog. The grandmother gets it, but the dog finds refuge and is saved. Obviously I’ve seen this too many times as well. A main character is now talking about how wonderful a town it is for raising children. Good luck with that.

Vampires are out. Their blood sucking days are over. Zombies are in though they are far uglier and tend to be less discriminatory about which parts of the body they enjoy. Zombie actors also come a bit more cheaply: no speaking parts. I think the only directions they get are to drag their feet and try not to drop dangling body parts.

I watch all sorts of Christmas programs. Yesterday I saw a movie I’ve never seen before, Carol for Another Christmas from 1964. It has quite the pedigree as it was written by Rod Serling and has a Henry Mancini score. The movie was made for TV and is a dark version of A Christmas Carol. Peter Sellers appears in a strange role in Christmas future, a devastating future. When I looked up the movie on IMDB, I found out, “Presented without commercial interruptions, this “United Nations Special” was sponsored by the Xerox Corporation, the first of a series of Xerox specials promoting the UN.” I watched all of it without enjoying it much. I was just curious as to how Mr. Grudge would find redemption. Now I don’t need ever to see it again. Give me Alastair Sim every time.

No white Christmas this year. Rain is forecasted. Good think Santa is magical.

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“Tradition is a fragile thing in a culture built entirely on the memories of the elders.”

December 22, 2012

The morning is lighter than it has been the last few days, but the sun is still a bit shy. It pokes out every now and then trying to decide whether or not to stay. It’s cold. When I look out my window, I see brown leaves, clouds and bare branches. Even my trees define winter.

I have two batches of cookies left to make, but I’ll only do one today as I’m going to see the new James Bond movie this afternoon. The other batch will be made tomorrow. I’m in no hurry as everything is pretty much on schedule. The only item after the cookies on my to-do list is to decide which appetizers I’ll serve on Christmas Eve. It’s our gingerbread house night.

Santa never left wrapped gifts when I was young. The only wrapped gifts under the tree were from my parents, and it didn’t any guessing to know two of those presents for each of us were new pajamas and slippers to wear on Christmas Eve. My mother would tell us we could open a couple of presents, and we’d plead to pick the Christmas Eve presents but my mother never gave in. She’d hand each of us two of the gifts from under the tree: pajamas and slippers, always pajamas and slippers.

I continued the tradition and always sent my sister’s three kids new pajamas for Christmas Eve. The boys had red-footed ones when they were young then red or green sweats when they were older. My nephew swears I pulled a Ralphie on him and made him wear footed pajamas until he was 12, but that isn’t true. My niece got footed pajamas as well but hers came from the Disney Store. Her Pooh pajamas were such a favorite she’d cry if she didn’t have them to wear to bed. My sister had to cut off the feet of the pajamas so my niece could keep wearing them even after she’d outgrown them. This year my nephew, he of the footed pajamas, bought new pajamas for his 6-year-old son and my niece’s 5 month old son.

We keep the memories of Christmas, the memories of family and tradition, and when the time comes, we pass those memories, those traditions, to the next generation. Every Christmas is a reminder of all the Christmases before it. Pajamas and my mother on Christmas Eve are forever linked, and this year Ryder and Declan will celebrate her tradition, now theirs, at Christmas.

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