Archive for the ‘Musings’ category
April 16, 2013
I am now thankful for my painful back. For weeks I have been cursing when I walk or move in the wrong direction, and yesterday morning I was unhappy at not working the marathon as it is something I enjoy doing every year. Now I feel blessed. I would have been right near where the first explosion occurred, right down the street from it.
In no way can I understand why yesterday’s events at the marathon happened. Patriot’s Day is a legal holiday in Massachusetts and the whole day is a celebration. It starts with the nighttime ride of Paul Revere, who this time is escorted by the state police, warning about the British coming. At 5:30 in the morning a reenactment begins on Lexington Green and another after that at Concord Bridge. At 11, the Sox play every year. The marathon is an all day event as runners cross the finish line sometimes as late as 7. Copley Square is the end of the race where the crowds wait, where the bleachers are and the VIP seats. The crowd is sometimes 5 or 6 people deep. Volunteers work the scene in all different ways identified by their colored jackets. Some stand on the street and just applaud and congratulate the runners. Many are in the medical tent and some have a wheel chair as their responsibility, and they walk the area with it in case a runner needs help.
I will never understand the mind which planned and carried out the bombings. An 8-year-old boy died. What sort of person finds satisfaction in the death of anyone let alone a small child. I wonder if the bomber is sitting in front of his TV watching the aftermath and enjoying his work. I so want this person found.
Miss Gracie and I will while away the day today. We will take a ride. It’s sunny and the sky is blue. I want to see the stirrings of spring on Cape Cod, stop for lunch somewhere and maybe take a few pictures. I want to see the ocean. I want to hear music on the radio. For a little while, I want some distance from this horrific event.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bad back, blessings, explosion, marathon, Patriots' Day, sunny day, Why
Comments: 21 Comments
April 15, 2013
I have always thought of Keep the Coffee Coming as a community, a family. We get to chat with each other, share memories and have a laugh or two sometimes at our own expenses. One of my favorite Coffee experiences is learning about the world from all of you and about your childhoods and your holidays and traditions. Some family members have been with me for years, and I cherish them but I also cherish the newest members of the family. I think of Coffee as a place devoid of criticism or controversy, a place where we can all feel comfortable with each other.
My friend Hedley has decided not to return to Coffee. Though he has been with me for what seems like the best and longest time, he has decided not to visit again. I wrote him an e-mail wondering if he was okay as I hadn’t heard from him in a while. It was then he told me that there were so many anti-British comments made he felt uncomfortable at the very least and pained enough by the comments that he didn’t feel welcome here any more. He is my friend and I will miss him and his wonderful comments.
I decided that I would tell this to all of you so that maybe it won’t happen again and just maybe Hedley will return. We can’t like everything and we don’t always agree, but we should always respect one another.
I do have one story for the day and I’ll call it Gracie, the Possum and Me. Gracie was sleeping and snoring beside me on the couch around 12:30 last night when she jumped up and ran outside. Right away I heard banging and a noise I couldn’t identify so I grabbed my flashlight and went out on the deck. I flashed the light all over the backyard and finally saw Gracie near the right side of the deck. Then I noticed the dead possum at the foot of the deck stairs. It was a huge, adult possum, as ugly as they come. I went down the cellar and couldn’t find my shovel so I grabbed a hoe and a garden fork missing one tine so I could get rid of the deceased. I went out the cellar door which is right near the stairs. It was then the possum got up and started walking. Gracie ran and grabbed it and I ran and screamed so Gracie dropped it. The possum had only been playing dead and had done a great job. I was completely fooled. After Gracie dropped it, the possum looked dead again, but I didn’t go too close and instead stood guard. Gracie kept running the perimeter of the yard and up the other deck stairs to my side stairs trying to get at the possum. I thwarted her every time. Gracie did that at least seven times. I was totally frustrated as I didn’t dare leave the possum and so I couldn’t lock the gates on the deck to catch Gracie. Finally Gracie was on the stairs near me long enough for me to talk to her, and she came right to me. I grabbed her and brought her inside and gave her a treat for coming. I decided to leave the possum until morning. The whole escapade was over at 1:20.
The first thing I did this morning was check for the possum before I let Gracie out. The possum had done it again, superbly played dead, and had gotten away while we were inside the house. I let Gracie out, and she went looking. Sorry, Gracie, the possum is gone!
Categories: Musings
Tags: caring, family, fork, friends, Gracie, hoe, playing dead, possum, respect, yard
Comments: 61 Comments
April 14, 2013
The day has potential. The sun is working its way from behind the clouds so every now and then I see light which gives me a bit of hope. A patch of blue also appears then disappears so I’m thinking maybe a nice afternoon might be the order of the day. I think a lovely Sunday afternoon is the best of all. During the week most people work so lovely goes to waste, and Saturday is generally chore and errand day so though we may get out into the sun we don’t get to enjoy it. It’s just the backdrop. Sunday, by tradition, is the quiet day, a day with no ambitions, a day to be enjoyed.
Tomorrow is a holiday, Patriot’s Day, when we commemorate the Battles of Lexington and Concord. Paul Revere and William Dawes will make their way on horseback to warn everyone the British are coming. This time around, though, state troopers will escort the riders. There is also a reenactment of the Battle on Lexington Green which begins around 5:30 and later, at 9, is one at the Old North Bridge in Concord. Tomorrow is also the marathon. This is the first year in a long time I haven’t worked it, but my back prevents it; instead, I’ll watch the Red Sox. Their game begins at 11 because of the marathon.
This is April vacation week for kids. When I worked, I always went to Europe for the week, to one country or city. They were adult trips: no backpacks or hostels or sleeping on night busses. Usually we rented a car and travelled all over. Portugal is still my favorite trip, but I did love Belgium and the Netherlands. The scariest ride was in the fog through the Black Forest. I couldn’t see the road more than a few feet ahead of the car, and I’d have been doomed if not for the white line. The prettiest rides were through the Ardennes and in the Netherlands with its windmills. My parents were my fellow travelers, and they were great fun. My dad and I played cards every night after dinner while my mother worked on her crossword puzzles. They were amiable travelers and didn’t really care which road we took. All of if was new to us. They never balked at any restaurant and were willing to try new foods. I drove and my mother was the navigator. My father thought he was, but he butchered every language so my mother would repeat the city where we were going, and it never ever sounded even close to what my father had said. He never caught on.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Belgium, Europe, Germany, marathon, navigator, Patriots' Day, Portugal, sun, Sunday, travel, windmills
Comments: 15 Comments
April 13, 2013
Spawns of Satan is already taken so I don’t know what to call the bird that pecks the side of my house and wakes me up. It has found the most inaccessible spot for me to get at it to shoo it away. I’m thinking a hose with the water at its strongest will reach the spot and scare away the bird. I wouldn’t dare try a stone because I’d probably break a window though it isn’t really all that close to the bird’s spot. It’s not a woodpecker, but I think it’s a nuthatch. Whatever it is doesn’t matter. That bird is going down!
It is still a damp day though the rain has stopped. The temperature is supposed to be in the 40’s and by mid-week close to 60˚. I think the sun would help if it would only come out of hiding.
I have to venture onto the deck later to fill the feeders. I watch the birds from the window while I wait for my coffee and have noticed how bright and beautiful the male gold finches are. Today I also had two house finches and a flicker. My stalwart chickadees have returned though they are fewer than usual.
The mornings are alive with the songs of birds. I woke up at one point and couldn’t see the clock but knew it must be close to dawn as I could hear birds welcoming the day. That is one of the best parts of spring: that the days are again filled with sound. Winter tends to blunt them. We all stay warm and secluded in our houses. The decks and yards are empty. We go from the house to the car to the store to the car and then home. Warm spring days, though, call to us to come outside. The sun is inviting. The world is alive again. It’s as if we’re shedding our winter coats and, like bears, leaving our caves. The long hibernation is finally over.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bird feeders, bird songs, birds, damp, flicker, gold finches, mornings, rain, spring, sun
Comments: 21 Comments
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
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