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“Home is everything you can walk to.”

January 25, 2013

Okay, I’ve been up since before 5 o’clock. I think that’s about when the cough medicine stopped working, and once I start coughing, going back to sleep is out of the question. Another mouse found its way into my trap last night so it and I will take a ride later as I have to go out anyway. For some strange reason the cats want to eat every day, and I gave them their last can this morning. I should have trained them better. My trunk is filled with trash, but I hesitate going to the dump as even on pleasant days it’s cold. I’m not telling Gracie.

Stuck in the house is boring. Ordinarily I’d never mind staying home but being forced to stay inside changes the whole perspective. Chosen sloth days are gifts. Sick sloth days are not. I am stooping to watch the Military Channel about Okinawa as nothing else is on. The news at 5:30 is the same as the news at 5 o’clock which will then be repeated at 6.

I watched The Brink’s Job a few weeks back because my town has a scene. The film was made in 1978, and they chose Stoneham Square because it looked just like a town from the 1950’s, as if time had stood still. The police box was in the middle of the square, and Finnegan’s Men’s Store was still there. The thieves went inside the store and bought themselves some new duds. In those days up-town was a vibrant place filled with stores. In time, the stores closed. The police box got hit by a car and was destroyed. A replica of it was build but was erected off the road, more as a memorial than anything. Finnegan’s is a liquor store or was the last time I noticed.

Up-town has become a destination again. Part of it is revitalized. The movie theater is now live theater, an Indian restaurant graces the spot where the Children’s Corner used to stand, and Felicia’s, a great restaurant, is where the fish market stood. The deli is still on the corner and still makes great subs. I like to drive through the square when I visit my sister then I take the same route I used to when I was a kid: pass the fire station, the town hall, the church, my elementary school then all the way to my old house. I notice what has changed and remember what used to be. It’s nostalgic, not sad.

 

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“It looks like something out of Whittier’s “Snowbound,”‘ Julia said. Julia could always think of things like that to say.”

January 22, 2013

First off, I have tied the old record. The 17th mouse was caught during the night in the have-a heart trap. Unlike in the plastic ones, the mouse is pretty quiet: lots of room, a good view and plenty of peanut butter. I’ll reset the trap when I go back upstairs. Next up on our daily bulletin: weather. The news says we got 3.8 inches of snow, but I don’t think so. I went out in my shoes around 6:30 to look for the paper and had no problems staying dry or even finding the papers. The tip of the orange plastic covering was above the snow. Health is our last morning update. I woke up at 5:00 coughing loud enough for people to think it was an old-time TB ward. I came downstairs, took some medicine, drank the other magic elixir, coffee, then watched the news. I’m already tired, though, and am going back to bed shortly.

I braved the elements yesterday to bring the bird feeders inside where I filled them then I put them back outside. The birds are already having breakfast.

When I was a kid, I hated my rubber snow boots. My fingers always stung holding the tops so I could stuff my shoes inside, and, in the afternoon, if the boots were wet, they were impossible to fill. I’d just put my shoes in my school bag and wear my socks inside the boots. They’d always got wet and my feet were always cold. The only good thing about snow boots was they came in so many different colors. We always left for school a bit earlier than usual on boots days so we could get them off in time for the bell.

My father wore galoshes which had clips, metal rings, on the front which made it easy to open and close the boots. They were always black. Men weren’t into color when I was a kid. My dad wore a white shirt to work every day.

My father also had rubbers for rainy days. They covered his shoes except for the top. My grandmother had those see-through boots with one button on the side to close them. They had room at the back for the clunky heels on the old lady tie shoes. They were ugly, and they are always old lady boots to me.

The sun is beginning to shine behind the grey clouds. I can see its light.

I’m ready to go back to bed. Music will be late today.

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“For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness.”

January 21, 2013

My head is ready to erupt if I cough one more time. When I call my friends, they think it is some guy making an obscene phone call. I’m tempted. Last night was a bad one. First was the mouse in the trap then the mouse out of the trap. I just couldn’t drag myself out of bed so the mouse, after making all sorts of noise, escaped. Fern noticed it and jumped off the bed but didn’t catch it. That’s the first time Fern has seen one so we’re making some progress. The Pats lost, but I went to bed early and missed the ending so the pain was lessened.

I’m watching the hoopla of the Inauguration. Whether you agree with the choice for President or not, you have to admit the inauguration is powerful. It is the peaceful transition of power, a continuing of traditions going all the way back to George Washington. It’s filled with color, with red, white and blue, and music from glee clubs and military bands. Jimmy Carter and his wife are now being seated. I always liked him. He has become the most amazing ex-President. The Clintons got quite a reception. She deserved it. I’m curious about Mr. Obama’s speech. He had such hope 4 years ago. We all did.

I remember watching President Kennedy’s inauguration and the smoke coming from under the podium when Richard Cardinal Cushing gave his invocation. I remember Robert Frost couldn’t read his poem in the sun and had to recite one from memory. I had a connection to President Kennedy. He was from Massachusetts so I couldn’t miss his inauguration. I don’t remember any other inaugurations except President Obama’s first. It was historical and not to be missed.

In the stands, there are no hats on the heads of the women. Well I did see one hat, an ugly hat some unknown woman was wearing as she walked toward the outside seating area. I have no idea who she is, but she gets the ugly hat award. I remember when the men wore top hats. Now a few are wearing fedoras but most are hatless. The men are wearing top coats so that style hasn’t changed. Ties will never go out of style.

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“He was a bold man that first ate an oyster.”

January 20, 2013

One of the mouse traps in my bedroom has disappeared. I did a cursory hunt last night when I was going to bed, but I didn’t find it. My guess is the occupant scratched and pushed and moved it, but that’s just a guess, a good guess though as past occupants also managed to move it. Their exertions used to wake me up. The missing trap has to be near the bookcase on which I had been setting them (if you call putting in peanut butter setting them). Later, when it gets lighter, I’ll do a better hunt.

I haven’t caught a mouse in two days so my old record stands.

Tonight is Patriots’ football. I made chili yesterday and have put it on low this morning so it can finish cooking. I have corn bread and some toppings for the chili: cheese, chopped jalapeños, sour cream and Fritos. I’m thinking chili and football on a cold winter’s night are a perfect combination.

I wonder sometimes how food comes into our lives. I don’t mean the common every day sort of meal but different foods. My mother never made chili or any kind of Mexican food, but my sisters, my brother and I love it. I wonder where we first tasted it. Middle Eastern food is a favorite of mine: hummus, tabouleh, falafel and baba ghannoush, but that I can trace to Ghana. In Accra in those days there were many Lebanese restaurants, and they were cheap which is a great find for a Peace Corps volunteer in the big city on little money. Ghana was also where I first tasted Indian food. It was at the Maharaja, a restaurant compete with pillows on the floor for seating. I have no idea what prompted me to taste all that foreign food back then as some of it was not visually appealing, but I think it was my being a bit adventurous in another country. I have tried stuff which I really hated including blood sausage. It was probably the name which put me off even before the tasting. Thai food is among my favorites. I usually hit my favorite restaurant, a hole in the wall, at least once or twice a month. There used to be a Caribbean restaurant in Falmouth, and I’d make the trek just for the goat curry, but that restaurant closed a long time ago.

When I read about a restaurant serving different foreign foods, I make a note of the name and address and put it in a book. It is my I hope to eat there book. The list includes a Moroccan, Indonesian and Caribbean restaurant.

My taste buds would love some more exploration. It’s been a while.

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“Cold! If the thermometer had been an inch longer we’d have frozen to death.”

January 19, 2013

Yesterday, my plans worked out perfectly. I didn’t get dressed, I took a nap and I read. Even Gracie spent most of her time inside on the couch curled up on her afghan. Her few trips outside were mission oriented and quick: a run down the deck stairs, a squat and a run back into the house.

Winter days like today remind me of when I was a kid and felt perpetually cold walking to and from school every day. Staying home, despite snow or frigid weather, wasn’t an option unless I had the plague. We walked to  and from school no matter rain nor snow nor dead of night, okay, maybe not that last one as I might be exaggerating just a bit. The worst days were on rainy days in winter when it was cold. We’d get soaked and so freezing we’d actually look forward to getting to school where it was dry. My school had tall radiators which hissed steam. They were on the side near the windows and in the back of the room, but we seldom noticed them beyond the first few days after the heat was turned on for the winter. It was like white noise. The ceilings in the old school were so high that it usually took a while for the room to be really warm so most of us wore sweaters over our uniforms.

On the windiest winter mornings, I froze the whole walk to school despite the layers my mother had piled on me. Because the wind was bitterly cold and in our faces, my friends and I would hold hands and walk backwards away from the wind. When we arrived at school, our cheeks were sometimes so red they were sore, and our fingers were numb despite our mittens. The cloak rooms would be bursting with bulky coats hanging off hooks, and you couldn’t walk through without knocking someone’s coat on the floor. My hat and mittens were up my sleeves for safe keeping. I didn’t mind missing recess on those cold, rainy days.

When I’d get home wet and cold, I’d change right away. That was when I first learned cozy.

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“I’ve just been bitten on the neck by a vampire… mosquito. Does that mean that when the night comes I will rise and be annoying?”

January 18, 2013

Today is winter. Though the sky is steely blue and the sun is shiny, it’s cold, and we have snow. I’m guessing about 2 inches fell during the night, not enough for plows or even shovels but any snow is enough. From here inside my warm house, the snow is pretty and it glistens in the sun, but even Gracie was reluctant to go out when we first woke up. I had to trudge across the snowy lawn to get the newspapers, and when I did, I saw paw prints in the snow. I’m guessing Cody came to visit hoping Gracie was awake. She wasn’t and neither was I.

The mice count is now 15. Only a single tiny beast found its way into a trap yesterday. Either peanut butter is less desirable than it had been or the number of mice has dwindled. I know there are some on this floor so they are also my targets. I’ve already put down a couple of my trusty traps but no takers as yet. Only three more mice are needed to break my decades old record.

I have never been the type afraid of bugs or snakes or mice. Garter snakes were common when I was a kid. One of us would see a snake, announce its presence and all of us would run to watch. The bravest among us would pick it up and hold it for a while. In the field below our house, we used to run through the tall grass and spook the grasshoppers so they’d hop into the air and then we’d catch them with our bare hands. We caught fireflies in jars but we always released them. Fireflies were special. In the swamp, we’d use jars to scoop up tadpoles and our hands to grab the frogs. Dirt and grime were never a problem.

In Ghana I saw poisonous snakes: one was in the bushes outside my classroom block. My students killed it by pelting rocks at it. Lizards were everywhere, including my house. In training, on our first day, I saw lizards scurrying across the concrete walks as I went to breakfast. I’ll never forget that morning. It was my first I’m really in Africa moment.

I have no plans for today, no errands and no chores. It’s a perfect sloth day. It’s a stay in my cozies, read a bit and take a nap day.

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“As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly!!!”

January 17, 2013

Yesterday it poured all day, but off-Cape had snow so I’m not complaining. Miss Gracie and I did a dump run, and I didn’t even bother to change out of my flannel pants and sweat shirt. The dump was pretty empty in the rain.

The mouse count is now 14. Two got caught yesterday: one in the plastic trap and one in the have-a-heart. I have a story. The one in the plastic trap was making so much noise scratching and banging that it woke me up. I wanted to sleep in peace so I decided, despite the dark and the rain, to take it outside. I walked across the street, my usual deportation spot, and was about to open the trap when I heard, “Hello.” I just about jumped out of my skin. I turned around and all I saw was a light, not a flashlight but a bigger light. “Who is it?” I asked. “Billy,” was the answer. It was my neighbor carrying the light, an umbrella and a huge cup of steaming coffee. He was walking Cody, his dog. I asked the time. It was six o’clock. He wanted to know why I was in the rain, in the dark at six o’clock. I told him about my mice. He said he was sorry.

When I was a kid, I never did see much wildlife where I lived, maybe a skunk or two but that was about it. We saw cows at the farm and animals at the zoo but nothing exciting in the woods. Here on the Cape I’ve seen deer, rabbits, foxes, wild turkeys, coyotes and the common skunks, raccoons and ugly opossums, though that last one is redundant. I didn’t mention the spawns on purpose. The coyotes are common but usually at night or early morning. I used to see them on my way to work. They all looked healthy. I know one is around here when the rabbits disappear and when I can hear the horrible screams of the prey when the coyotes hunt. I never worried about Gracie as she is too big to interest a coyote. A friend once saw a coyote dragging her small dog by its hind quarters trying to take it. The dog was crying and scratching the ground in an attempt to get some traction to run. My friend saved her dog who only had a few bite marks. Another friend’s dog, another small dog, was attached to an overhead line in the backyard. The coyote grabbed the dog in its mouth and ran. When they got to the end of the line, the dog popped right out of the coyote’s mouth and was saved. The wild turkeys are the most fun to watch. They travel in fairly large groups, fluff their tail feathers as they run and make all sorts of noises. They’re now pretty common, but the first time I saw them I stopped my car to watch.

Wild turkeys can fly unlike the ones on WKRP in Cincinnati, a program I used to love. I’ll never forget the program entitled Turkeys Away. In a Thanksgiving promotion the station decided to give away turkeys and to drop them from a helicopter.

“It’s a helicopter, and it’s coming this way. It’s flying something behind it, I can’t quite make it out, it’s a large banner and it says, uh – Happy… Thaaaaanksss… giving! … From … W … K … R… P!! No parachutes yet. Can’t be skydivers… I can’t tell just yet what they are, but – Oh my God, Johnny, they’re turkeys!! Johnny, can you get this? Oh, they’re plunging to the earth right in front of our eyes! One just went through the windshield of a parked car! Oh, the humanity! The turkeys are hitting the ground like sacks of wet cement! Not since the Hindenburg tragedy has there been anything like this!”

 

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“…I have to go home and get a few things done. If I don’t get out the Pledge soon, the dust bunnies are going to be leaving tracks on my furniture…”

January 15, 2013

When I went to get the papers, I notice green shoots, probably dafs as they are usually the first. I wanted to yell and tell them to stay down as winter still has the stage. I suspect they have been fooled by all these days in the 40’s, like today. Even the nights have been warm.

No sun again. It is a damp, grey day, the sort where there must have been fog over the river early this morning, but I slept in even though I had set my alarm. I had a couple of mice get trapped last night. They each made so much noise I got up and went outside to let them go. No car this time. I just walked a bit down the street and freed each from the trap. It was a good thing I did as I found a package on my front steps. It was raining then so by morning the package would have been soaked. I was home all day so I have no idea why the package was left outside.

I have been busy of late cleaning weird places in the house, like the fridge, and last night I cleaned my bookcase, the travel route for the bedroom mice. I was tired so I went upstairs around ten and that’s when I noticed the bookcase near my bed was dusty, a Miss Haversham type dust. It’s only a two-shelf bookcase so I figured why not. I’m a near-sighted fool sometimes. Besides books, there are old Barkley lead figures on the shelves, and they were so dust-covered it was difficult to see their colors. I got on the floor, took them all off, cleaned the shelves then cleaned each of the figures. When that bookcase was done, I went to the big one, the one which is the length of the side wall and has four shelves all the way across. On the top shelf, I found the mouse route. I cleaned that shelf first then cleaned everything: the other shelves, all the old toys on them, the banks, the framed pictures and the other stuff I somehow collected over time. When I finished, it was close to 11:30, so much for an early night. I got cozy, grabbed my iPad and started reading when to my surprise a mouse strayed into the trap. I got up, Fern got up and Gracie got up. The three of us went downstairs. I went outside and freed the mouse. The three of us went back upstairs, got cozy in our usual spots, and I read for a while then turned out the light and fell asleep. At 1:15 I heard a racket. It was an unhappy mouse caught in the trap. I got up, grabbed the trap and went downstairs. This time I was alone. Fern and Gracie stayed in bed. It was still raining when I went outside to free the mouse in about the same spot as the first. I’m hoping he finds his friend and the both of them take up residence at someone else’s house. I’d even throw a housewarming party.

Two house finches were at my feeders this morning, and the flicker was back. He is such a huge bird especially in comparison to the finches and the chickadees who were also dining at the feeders. It was a busy bird morning.

Gracie and I have a few errands. She’ll be happy. I’m not.

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“You dirty rat…”

January 14, 2013

The weather hasn’t changed. It is a grey, dark unseasonably warm day. The paper says a high of 48˚. I guess this is the January thaw except nothing needed thawing except the tiniest blots of ice still left on corners from the plows during that ersatz snow storm.

The mouse count is higher: 6 have been relocated. The latest one got caught last night, but I left him in the trap all night. That’s the last time I’ll do that. It was a small one which was shaking when I let him go. He was so unsteady on his feet he had to stay a while in one spot. I watched until he finally moved across the street with a bit more confidence. I don’t want mice in my house, but I also do not want to be responsible for their demise. If the cats get them, that’s fine with me, but I won’t use a deadly trap.

While I was waiting for my coffee to finish brewing, I went to the window to watch the birds. What did I see? A spawn of Satan was dangling on my new suet feeder gnawing on the wooden top trying to get at the suet. I ran outside to scare the beast and was amazed at how wood he’d already eaten away. I got my cayenne pepper and smeared it all over the gnawed sides and the top. The big birds love that feeder because it has a long bottom which allows them to rest their tails on it while they eat. A flicker was there just now when I got another cup of coffee. The rain hasn’t washed away the pepper-I can still see it. I hope that keeps the spawns away.

The rodents have a vendetta against me. Somewhere, in rodent headquarters, my picture or a reasonable facsimile, is on the wall. The beasts meet periodically to figure ways to drive me crazy. The huge, fat spawn which can barely jump from limb to limb is probably the leader. He riles the troops. The mice find the smallest holes and get inside. The spawns mock me by eating not only the seeds but also the feeders.

I’m beginning to think I’m losing it here. It is Gaslight reinvented. The mice and spawns are out to drive me crazy. I’m just so glad the 6 ft fence keeps out the raccoons and the skunks. That would be too great a coalition even for me.

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“I cook with wine, sometimes I even add it to the food.”

January 13, 2013

Last night I went to bed early for me, around 9:45. I had watched one exciting football game, the Ravens and the Broncos, and decided all that excitement had made me tired. About 11:30 I was woken up by banging sounds. My mouse trap had captured another victim, making the count three, one for each day. The mouse wasn’t at all happy and was banging from inside the plastic trap trying to get out. I figured I’d take it for a ride in the morning, but it was banging so hard the trap was actually sliding across the shelf. I got up, put on my sweatshirt and slippers, called for Gracie to get off the bed, got my keys and the three of us drove about four blocks away. I stopped the car and let the mouse loose, wishing it well on its continued journey through life. Gracie and I got home and went back to bed but not before I reset the trap. At 2:30 the banging started again, another mouse. This time I wasn’t getting up. Let it bang! Well, the mouse banged so hard it somehow got out of the trap. I had lost mouse number 4 so I got up, reset the trap and went back to bed. Not ten minutes later the idiot mouse was stuck in the trap again. This time I got up and did it all over again: I put on my sweatshirt and slippers, called for Gracie to get off the bed, got my keys and drove the three of us about four blocks away. I got out of the car and let the mouse loose. I hope it finds it friend, at least he’ll have a neighbor he knows. That’s 4 mice in 4 days.

It is 3:45, and I’m sitting at my computer wishing I were tired enough to go back to bed. It’s warm outside but it’s raining. Gracie is asleep on the couch curled in her afghan. She is no dumb animal. Nope, the dump animal is typing. Luckily, though, I can pass the time by watching the Earth self-destruct from volcanic eruptions.

Many years ago I’d often be getting home around 1:30 or 2 after a Saturday night of carousing with my friends. We’d start with dinner then hit a few bars. In those days not many bars were opened all winter, and we were a caravan of cars looking for oases of sorts. A few of my friends bartended at night, and we always stopped at their establishments for a drink or two and to say hello. We never stayed long anywhere. Part of the fun was the bar hopping. We didn’t care if there was music. We enjoyed each other’s company and laughing and talking together. Sometimes we ended our evenings with breakfast as Hyannis had a place which served all night. It was generally pretty rowdy by three or four in the morning.

I can’t even imagine having the stamina to do that again. Now my carousing starts by 5:30 or 6 and ends by ten or as late as eleven when I start yawning. I still have a good time, just a shorter good time.

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