Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

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“To win the people, always cook them some savoury that pleases them.”

November 5, 2012

Today does not encourage going outside. It is cold, rainy and dreary. All I can see through my window are drips falling from the roof edges and the brown leaves of the oak tree. I’m declaring today a stay in my cozies day, a day to be at home dry, warm and comfy. I must have sensed the sort of day it is as I didn’t wake up until after 10. I can’t remember the last time I slept so late.

Winter has reared its ugly head. The nights are downright cold. Tonight is predicted to be 30˚, and during the rest of the week nights will be much the same. That’s coat weather. That’s down comforter weather.

A nor’easter is predicted for Wednesday into Thursday. The storm will bring heavy rain and wind with gusts up to 40 miles per hour. The wind, of course, will be strongest at the coast causing beach erosion and flooding. It is beginning to seem as if we are all bit players in a science fiction movie about multiple disasters.

After tomorrow all those political ads will be gone, and I’ll answer my phone again which seems like the perfect reason for a celebration, a party, one with balloons, food, alcohol and revelers and not a single candidate. I suspect most of us were oblivious to those ads as we had long ago made up our minds as to which presidential candidate will get our vote. Some simply vote the party with no thoughts about policy or performance. Some vote not for but against a candidate. Others have crazy reasons to vote one or the other, reasons often based on misrepresentations or outright falsehoods as the truth often goes by the wayside in a fight for votes. If you are still on the proverbial fence, I have come up with the perfect reason for you to check your ballot for Mr. Obama and not Mr. Romney. Robocalls have been made for both candidates by celebrities. Pat Boone is on the line for Mitt Romney, not especially enticing. Matt Damon is the Obama man. No contest there!

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“I saw old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadow less like silence, listening To silence.”

November 4, 2012

As fall days go, this one is just about perfect. The sun is sharply bright, the air is clear and it’s chilly, around 45˚ chilly, not quite coat weather yet. When I went to get the papers early this morning, I could smell fall. I could smell the fallen leaves and the crispness of the air. Someone had a fire going. I noticed the yellow maple leaves had fallen on the grass in a pattern drawn from a painter’s palette. I stood and took in my little bit more of my world then grabbed the papers and went inside to a house filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. My senses were in overdrive.

Gracie got loose this morning. We had just gotten back from breakfast and were on our way into the house when she pulled her head out of her collar and took off down the street. She did me the courtesy of looking back at me as she ran. I called her and was totally ignored. I took out my phone and called my friends, but no one was home. Then I saw my neighbor moving his car and asked him to call Gracie. She, of course, went right to him, gave him a hug and a bunch of kisses. He held on to a wiggly, happy Gracie until I could put her collar back on. Right now she is sleeping, resting from her exploits.

Sunday has a different feel about it than any other day of the week. Saturday was the day for errands so Sunday is a slow day, a day for taking time. On Sunday mornings, breakfast with my friend is a ritual for us. It is when we catch up with one another. Our breakfast is slow by intent and always has plenty of time for an extra cup of coffee. When I come home, I finish reading the papers. The crossword puzzle is saved for last, and I keep going back to it during the day until I finally give up. A nap is inevitable. Tonight my friends and I will play a few games, eat some appetizers as we play then we’ll watch The Amazing Race together.

I love traditions and rituals. They are connections over time, and they are to be cherished even in such simplicity as a morning breakfast or a game of cards.

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“Without music, life would be a mistake.”

November 3, 2012

Thank God for the newspaper. This morning I learned a ram is a male sheep, and that tidbit of knowledge has cleared up the confusion I’ve lived with for years. Is that ewe or isn’t it ewe? I suppose you’re wondering why a ram in the paper, especially the front page. It seems he escaped from the Islamic Center where he was scheduled to be sacrificed for Eid al-Adha on October 26th. The ram, on the run for two weeks, has been seen in several places but has evaded capture. Be on the lookout for a ram with brown fleece and a black face. Go ram!!

Don’t forget to turn your clocks back tonight, nothing worse than being an hour early. If you are like my friend’s aunt, you’ll stay up until 2 a.m., the official time to turn them back.

The day is dismal: cloudy, damp and cold. Tonight will be in the low 40’s but the rest of the week will have nights in the 30’s. That sounds to me as if fall is hurrying away with winter at its heels. The dog doesn’t linger outside much at night any more.

I survived yesterday.

My mother had singers and songs she loved, and she played them on the hi-fi while she was doing housework. The songs stuck in my head, and I, without realizing it, learned all the words. In a way, I carry on her music. My sister, when her kids were growing up, played the music she loves and the same thing which happened to me happened to her kids. They learned her music. Her kids are fans of Creedence, Dylan and CSN&Y among others. In a way, they carry on her music, and mine as well. I wonder, though, what will happen to my mother’s music. My nephews and niece don’t know Frank Sinatra, Judy Garland, Jo Stafford or Johnny Mathis, and I don’t hear those singers played much on the radio. The oldies stations I listen to play music from the 60’s on up through the 80’s. My mother’s music is fading, disappearing from the airwaves, but it stays in my head. Johnny Mathis and The Twelfth of Never still gets me every time.

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“I’d rather be a little weird than all boring.”

November 2, 2012

The morning is nearly gone. I slept in and then took my time reading the papers and checking my e-mail. All of it was a delaying tactic as I knew my mind was empty, devoid of original thought. The idea of filling a blank page was scary. What’s to say? The problem is I’m bored. I even thought about going through the cabinet hunting for my apple slicer, corer. The whole absurd idea of cabinet foraging is indicative of how far gone I must be. I remember summers when I’d whine to my mother there was nothing to do in the whole town. This is one of those moments. Sure, Gracie and I could go for a ride but what’s to see?  Maybe we should shop: the use of maybe tells you how really bored I am. Never do I use maybe and shopping in the same sentence. I suppose I should change my bed. Whoopee!! (which must be read with a tone oozing sarcasm). Maybe I should read those catalogs: the pile is high enough to be dangerous should it fall on one of the cats, but I know that won’t work. I’ve tried it before. The catalog ends up on the floor as soon as boring rears its ugly head. The house is dusty and, given my mood, will stay dusty. Cleaning is never the solution for anything.

My landscaper cleared the yard yesterday. I can see my grass, the driveway and the deck. All the leaves and pine needles are gone. I watched out the front door. Looking back, I realize that was the first indication of creeping ennui. Leaf raking and blowing will never be interesting yet I stood and watched.

TV last night sent me reading. I’ve started Stolen Prey, a John Sandford. I read three pages then put it down. Even mass murder couldn’t hold my interest.

The last two Walking Dead programs are on my DVR. I suppose I could watch zombies eating live people and live people killing zombies. Such fun is almost overwhelming to contemplate.

Well, this is it. I’ve finally run out of words.

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“There is something haunting in the light of the moon.”

October 31, 2012

I know you didn’t expect this to be here today, it being Wednesday and all, but it’s Halloween so I just had to post. I figure I’ll take tomorrow off instead of today.

I never understood why we were forced to go to school on Halloween. It always seemed like some sort of a sacrilege. I’d be at my desk during silent reading, but the book was always the last thing on my mind. I’d be daydreaming instead. I’d be thinking about nighttime and trick or treating. During recess that’s all we talked about: what we’d be wearing, what houses gave the best candy and how late we could stay out. The clock seemed never to move that day.

At home, we wanted to get dressed, but my mother always made us wait. She’d tell us it was way too early. She’s even make us eat dinner. I remember it took forever to get dark. I’d look out the window hoping to see a trick or treater so I could say to my mother, “See, I told you so,” but finally she’d tell us to go put on our costumes. We’d run upstairs and be dressed in a heartbeat. Our costumes were usually homemade as we couldn’t afford the ones from Woolworth’s, but we never minded. My mother put together great costumes, and she always bought us new masks. We were hobos with black beards on our faces, ghosts in sheets or cowboys and cowgirls. My sisters tended toward ballerinas: they were far prissier than I. We’d start out in our own neighborhood then branch out to the nearby streets. Our bags would get heavier and heavier, but we didn’t stop. We’d head further afield. The house across from the First National gave out nickel candy bars. That was always an important stop. We hated apples except for the one or two with coins stuck in them. Back then, we’d get lots of small bags decorated with witches and pumpkins. The tops were twisted so the candy wouldn’t fall out. They’d be filled with candy corn or M&M’s. As the night got older, fewer kids were about and the outside lights were turned off so we knew when it was time to head home. I remember walking on sidewalks filled with leaves and how dark it was except under the street lights, but we were never scared. We just took our time and munched candy all the way home.

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“There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.”

October 30, 2012

All is well here. Sandy left a mess of pine needles, leaves and branches but no damage. Even the lights stayed on, a phenomenon in these parts, though they did flicker a bit to give us pause. During the day I went out a couple of times to pick blown covers off the deck and put them back over the furniture. A light rain was falling so I had to be careful walking on the slick leaves covering the deck. The backyard has the most fallen branches. Half of the front lawn has disappeared under a sea of brown pine needles. Sort of pretty in its own way.

It was near the water where Sandy was the most devastating. The ocean was mighty with huge, fierce white-capped waves, and they, combined with Sandy’s wind and the high tide, dragged buildings into the sea and flooded roads. The paper this morning is filled with pictures of beached boats, damaged buildings and fallen trees. For the second day in a row, there is no school.

I went down my friends’ house last night for dinner and games. Mine was the only car on the road. I took the long way around and circled the neighborhood to check it out but saw nothing. Later, as my friends and I were sitting at the table, we heard the rain. The drizzle of the day had given way to a heavy rain. I got soaked just going to and from the houses and the car.

I awoke this morning to sun, but it has gone. The day has darkened, and the sky is filled with clouds. Rain is in the forecast. I’m okay with that as I have nowhere I need to be and nothing I need to do.

Yesterday I battened down the hatches and on the deck took down or put away anything which the wind could carry. The breakable bird feeders were the first taken down. The covered umbrella was leaned against the rail so the wind wouldn’t smash it to the deck. Later, I saw the bird feeders which hang off the trees swaying high back and forth so I went outside and took them down. This morning all of them were hung back on the tree branches.

The one thing I most worried most about was my palm tree. It is tall at 6 feet and too awkward to move so bringing it inside was not a possibility. Yesterday was dark enough to trigger the timer so the palm tree was lit all day and well into the night. Before the storm hit, I got a bungee cord and nailed one end to the deck then wrapped the other end around the thin, metal trunk of the palm tree. I checked the tree several times, and it swayed but never fell. My palm tree has survived a hurricane.

We were lucky yesterday.

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“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass…It’s about learning to dance in the rain.”

October 29, 2012

Today looks ominous with a gray sky, a wind already making itself heard and rain. Tracking Sandy is the focus of the day. Regular TV has been superseded by storm center programming on all the local channels. Pictures of the roaring surf smashing against the sea walls make the most impact. The ocean is angry. Yesterday the governor closed all schools for today, asked non-essential government employees to stay home and businesses to close as to keep people off the roads. The storm has been described as a mean, nasty beast.

The wind is picking up. Right now it is 40+ MPH which doesn’t seem all that wild, but combined with the rising seas, it is causing swells which are flooding parking lots, eroding beaches and threatening seaside homes. The ocean with its huge white caps and smashing waves is the most visible evidence of the coming storm. All three TV stations are reporting from the Cape, and their reporters are standing on piers with bobbing boats behind them and spray all around soaking those reporters and silencing their microphones. I almost want to head to Corporation Beach as I know the ocean will be the most dramatic there as it pounds the rocks and floods the parking lot, but I’ll not throw caution to the wind. I’ll stay home, safe and warm for now.

Gracie isn’t at all affected and neither are Fern and Maddie. Today is just a dark, rainy day to them. All three are taking their morning naps. The birds have found refuge: none are around; even the huge blue jays have gone. I wonder where they go to wait out the storm, can’t be the trees as they’re swaying in the wind. I figure under eaves or overpasses must provide some protection.

The hurricane has yet to arrive.

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“It is better to meet danger than to wait for it. He that is on a lee shore, and foresees a hurricane, stands out to sea and encounters a storm to avoid a shipwreck.”

October 28, 2012

Sandy most decidedly has my attention. Yesterday I got a robocall from Nstar, and this morning it was the Dennis Police Department. I was warned to brace for hurricane winds, rain and electrical failure. I have a few things yet to move on the deck, but they’re small and will take only a few minutes. I got 8 D batteries from the hardware store, no rush of people there, so my mega lamp is ready. My iPad and my phone are charged. I may go out for a few goodies later, but mostly I have enough food. I do worry a bit about pine trees as they sway in even small winds, but only one tree is near the house. It’s now wait and see time.

I remember Hurricane Daisy even more than Bob because I was young and totally impressed by the wind and the rain. It hit New England in August 1958. My sister had just been born and was kept in the hospital a couple of days because she was under 5 pounds, and they did that back then. My mother was relieved the baby was safe. With no power, my mother couldn’t have heated bottles. My dad took us out during the eye of the storm. The light was eerie; the sky a strange color. I don’t remember any sounds: no birds, no cars. The oak tree across the street had fallen on the road making it impassable. Its tree stump still had split shards from the trunk. I remember the inside bark was white. In my mind’s eye, I can still see all the small branches usually up so high but now lying on the road close to my side of the street. My brother and I sat on the trunk, and we walked through and around the branches. That something so huge could fall made a lasting impression.

My dad, sensing the start of the wind again, brought us inside the house. I remember watching out the window and seeing the leaves blown about as the trees swayed. I will never forget the sound of that wind.

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“I think Saturday may be Latin for “stay in pajamas til noon then eventually motivate yourself to shower and get ready for bed that night.”

October 27, 2012

I again woke to a beautiful morning filled with sun capped by a deep blue sky. It was quiet until I went to get the papers and was assailed by the harsh jeering of several bluejays in the front trees. I wondered if they sensed the coming storm and were giving warning or if it was just noisy bluejays. They disappeared as quickly as they came.

Gracie has spent most of the morning in the yard. Once in a while she barks for no reason. She’s just being a dog. She comes back inside every now and then, takes a drink from the porcelain bowl then goes back outside. I followed her one time and stood on the deck. She stood on the driveway. We both just watched and listened.

Saturday is still magical for me. From the time I was a little kid throughout my entire working life Saturday has always been the best day. On Saturday I could sleep-in, more important to the adult me than the kid me, but the kid me appreciated not hearing, “Time to get up for school.” Saturday morning TV was always the best. Sitting, watching, eating cereal and still wearing pajamas was my favorite way to greet the morning. In that regard, not much has changed. This morning I sat, drank my coffee and read the papers while still dressed in my night clothes, no longer pajamas but close enough. Later I’ll watch a really bad movie on the SyFy channel, and it will be like the Saturday matinee. I have to go out and pick up a few things I forgot yesterday then Gracie and I will take a ride. I love to roam on a Saturday. I always have.

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“There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.”

October 26, 2012

I woke to a lovely day, warm and sunny. The birds were in full voice, and they drew me to the deck. I watched Gracie sniff the driveway already covered in yellow leaves and pine needles. On the outside branches of the oak tree the leaves have browned. Most will soon fall but some will hang on through the winter fluttering in the cold wind. It is the oak tree I can see best through the window in my den. It is a barometer of the changing seasons.

Today is dump day, Gracie’s favorite day. I haven’t told her yet, but she’ll know soon enough. Right now she is sleeping beside me on the couch and snoring. Life is good for Gracie

Sandy is the headline on the TV news and in the papers, but we are in a wait and see pattern as to how destructive the storm will be here though it has already been dubbed Frankenstorm and described as ghoulish. Utility crews have been out cutting branches and making sure lines are cleared anticipating wind and trying to prevent power outages. I doubt they’ll be too successful. Power outages are common here even without the wind. I often hear the loud bang of a transformer just before the lights go out. I have an empty larder so I’ll hit the supermarket today before the crowd arrives to buy all the water and the batteries. The water part still amazes me. I get that people with well water will lose their pumps but most of us have town water which will flow regardless of electricity. My list has the everyday items, the boring ones, but I’m also including crackers, a variety of cheeses, dips and chips. If I have to sit and read by the light of the lantern, I want my taste buds to be happy.

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