Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

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“I had a lot of dates but I decided to stay home and dye my eyebrows.”

July 12, 2012

Last night my feet were cold. It got down to the 60’s and was delightful for sleeping. This morning is also cool, but I wouldn’t have minded missing it. I went to bed around 2 and expected to sleep in, but it was so noisy I was awakened earlier than I wanted by lawnmowers and the voices next door. I’m still tired. I see a nap in my future.

Today I need a few groceries, which translated means I’m out of cat food, the only compelling reason to subject myself to Stop & Shop. I’m already dreading the harsh lights, the carts in the middle of the aisle and the lines.

This is a busy week: a play last night and one tomorrow night. I don’t like having to go out at night, and I have to psych myself to get in the car. I like being home relaxing in my grubbies watching a good movie on TV. The play last night was okay: The Last of the Red Hot Mamas. The actors did a good job with dated dialogue. Tomorrow night is Ain’t Misbehavin’. I’ve seen it before, and the music is great, but a repeat play takes a bit more psyching to get me out of the house.

I have all the time I want or need now, but for some strange reason I tend to resent that time being usurped by events. It is a strange feeling because when I worked I had no problems going out at night or on the weekends, but since my retirement, I love staying home. I guess my reluctance has to do with being so comfortable here. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not turning into a hermit. I love entertaining on the deck and having friends over for the evening. I get to try new recipes and, even better, I get to stay home. It all comes down to my hating to primp, to dress in clothes fit for the outside world, but tomorrow night I must.

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“After enlightenment, the laundry.”

July 10, 2012

It’s another beautiful day. The sun is bright, and it’s not yet too warm. The weatherman says low 80’s for today.  I have a bunch of errands to do later including sending for my Ghanaian visa. I’ve already bought a few things to take with me: wipe on insect repellant as last year my feet got eaten, wash cloths which start out in a small pill shape and a personal fan, hand size which runs on batteries. I don’t think I need anything else as I still have a few things I bought and never used for last summer’s trip, a first aid kit being among them.

When I was in Peace Corps training, we had two choices for washing clothes: a bucket for hand-washing or finding someone to wash them. I, of course, chose the latter as did most of the other trainees. I remember Winneba, our first training site, and following a dirt path among trees to the house of the woman who washed our clothes in buckets for a small amount of money. I have no idea how she was found, but I was thrilled not to have to bucket wash my clothes. I don’t remember the rest of training or my laundry, but I also don’t remember washing my own clothes. I’m thinking we found someone everywhere we went.

When I got to Bolga to live, I didn’t wash clothes there either, except for what one might call my personals. Thomas, who worked for me, washed the rest of my laundry in metal buckets then he’d iron my dresses using a charcoal iron. I noticed the seamstress who made my dress last summer uses that the same type charcoal iron.

At the hotel where I stayed last summer, I asked about someone doing my laundry. They recommended a woman who washed my clothes for not much money. She barely spoke English, but she filled in the gaps by smiling a lot. Always on her back was her small daughter. My clothes came back in one day. When I left Ghana to come home, my clothes, except for the personals, were all clean. That has never happened on any trip before, but I expect it to happen again this summer.

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“The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool clear sky.”

July 9, 2012

The morning is a delight. A breeze is blowing, and the air is cool. All my windows are opened for the first time in a few days, and I can feel cool air on my back from the window behind me. All the sounds of my world I can hear through the open windows: the birds, the baby next door and cars going down the street. It’s a wonderful day so far.

Last night was red carpet night, the first deck movie night. We started off with appetizers. The favorite was a new dip, a Mexican blanco queso dip, which was addicting. Dinner was sausages, four different kinds, smothered in peppers and onions and eaten in rolls. There were two side salads, pasta and fruit. Dinner was just right for a warm summer evening, and it was delicious. When we were finished, we got to the main event, the movie. It was Ferris Bueller’s Day Off which two of my friends had never seen. They loved it and roared in laughter all the way through. During intermission we ate dessert, an ice cream pie with two wonderful ice creams, Chatham chocolate with a hint of cinnamon and coconut. It was perfect to cap off the meal. Of course, no movie is complete without some candy for munching. Last night it was malted milk balls and nonpareils.

I love deck movie night. It’s like a drive-in without the car and the long walk to the bathrooms and the concession stand. We even get to have a break. Next week the deck theater is presenting one of my all time favorite movies, Night of the Hunter. Two of its scenes give me chills every time I watch them. Robert Mitchum, the star, is pure evil. If you haven’t ever seen it, put it on the list to watch.

Today is a perfect day to sit outside and read. Looks as if I’ve planned my day!

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Don’t grow up too quickly, lest you forget how much you love the beach.”

July 8, 2012

We’re still in a heat wave of sorts. It’s not as hellish as the south or the mid-west, but it is far too hot for us this time of year. I’m still inside where it’s cool. Later, though, I’ll have to venture out as I still need a few things for tonight.

Saturday night was drive-in movie night. We, of course, always wore our pajamas. I remember when I was around 5 or 6 and I left the car by myself to go the bathroom telling my parents I’d be fine. I found the bathroom but couldn’t find our car afterwards. I went up and down the rows getting more and more panicky. Finally I went to the concession stand. They announced me over the car speakers, and my dad came and rescued me. I was still young enough to feel relieved instead of embarrassed. My dad was an impatient man. The idea of waiting in a long line to exit the drive-in was totally unappealing so he’d get a head start on the traffic. We left before the movie was over. My father guessed at the end time, but I have no idea how close his guesses were. I just know I watched a silent movie as we left the drive-in.

By this time most Sundays, my dad would have packed up the car for the beach. That meant the tartan cooler, the picnic basket, the blanket, towels and shirts for sun protection. We didn’t have any sunscreen back then except for my mother who’d make us cover up before we got too burned. My mother was fastidious about keeping the sand off the blanket. She’d let us sit down as long as our feet were stretched out across the sand. During the day she was known to move everything off the blanket a few times so she could shake the sand off it because that blanket was where my mother perched the whole day except maybe for a walk on the beach in the afternoon with my sisters who wanted to look for shells, and on really hot days when she’d sometimes tip her toes into the ocean, but that was always as far in as she dared. We were the water bugs.

My dad worked a long week and often didn’t make it home for dinner. On summer Saturday mornings, he did errands and household chores like mowing the lawn, but the rest of the weekend he spent with us. Even though I never saw the movies end, I loved going to the drive-in and nothing was better than Sunday at the beach.

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“Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here! This is the War Room!”

July 7, 2012

Here I am still behind shut windows and closed doors in the coolness of my house. Last night my feet were cold, and I used the afghan. It was wonderful feeling chilly.

I have a few errands today which is fine as I never left the house yesterday except to water the back garden and the deck flowers. It would be far too easy to become a hermit.

Yesterday I watched The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra and laughed out loud too many times to count. The movie is a spoof of 1950’s B-movies. The skeleton, lying on the ground, talked and commanded humans as well as Kro-Bar and Laddis, the two aliens, to do its bidding. The strings on the skeleton’s moving arms were obvious. The Mutant with one eye wore shoes easily seen as he walked. His costume was too cheesy to describe. The actors were perfect saying the awful dialogue with perfectly straight faces, “Well again I didn’t mean to throw a damper. Believe me that’s the last thing I’d like to throw. I don’t want to throw anything at all really. But when folks are horribly mutilated, I feel it’s my job to tell others. We take our horrible mutilations seriously up in these parts,” was the warning from Ranger Brad. Dr. Paul Armstrong, the Earth hero, told Kro-Bar, “From now on, I’ll stick to science, and leave the hunting alien mutants to the experts!” I warn you, though, unless you love B-movies, you’ll hate this spoof. As soon as it was over, I went to Amazon and bought a copy.

Tomorrow will be our first movie on the deck night. We’ll play a game or two while we munch appetizers including a new one with melted cheese. I love trying out new dishes and having my friends over is the perfect time. They never mind being Guinea pigs. Then we’ll have the main course: different flavors of grilled sausages with peppers and onions on fresh rolls and a pasta salad on the side. I’m showing Ferris Bueller’s Day Off as neither of my friends have ever seen it. During the movie I’ll bring out the popcorn, the Nonpareils and the malted milk balls. Maybe I’ll buy some JuJus just to throw. It’ll be like the old days!

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What dreadful hot weather we have! It keeps me in a continual state of inelegance.”

July 6, 2012

The air is already thick with humidity. Nothing is moving. The leaves just sit there on the branches. Even the birds are quiet. This room, at the back of the house, is still cool and dark, but it won’t be by mid-afternoon. Today the house with the AC will be my refuge.

We are spoiled. Our expectations have changed. The house is too hot? Put in central air. It’s a pain to move the hoses around the yard and garden. Time for an irrigation system. You want dinner ASAP. Put it in the microwave. Don’t want to wait for the charcoal for the barbecue. Buy a gas grill. Go from the air-conditioned house to the air-conditioned car to the air-conditioned store.

I remember summers when I was young. They were filled with wanderings and woods and the swamp. Being sweaty and even a bit dirty were signs of a good time, of a day well spent. I was always so exhausted I fell asleep in the sweltering heat of my bedroom. Even my father hunting and killing mosquitoes with his rolled-up magazine woke me for no more than a minute or two even though he sometimes stood on my bed to reach the ceiling. That ceiling and all the others in the house had blots which represented another kill. My father was possessed.

I lived in Bolga. It was the hottest part of the country with the least amount of rain. I didn’t even have a fan. I went to bed still wet from my shower and slept through the hot night. Later, just before the rains when the humidity came, I moved outside and slept on my mattress in the back of the house. I saw a sky filled with a million stars. I always had no trouble falling asleep.

My bedroom on the third floor with the heat from the afternoon sun was so hot I couldn’t fall asleep so for most of the summer I slept downstairs on the couch with the back door opened. Later I splurged and bought a fan. One year I finally broke down and got a window air-conditioner for my bedroom. I tolerated the hot-house downstairs but luxuriated in the coolness of the bedroom where I easily fell asleep. Then I decided it made no sense to be hot and uncomfortable or to have to sit upstairs all afternoon so I went with central air.

It seems the older I get the more spoiled I become. I have to admit, though, I’m loving it.

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“A vegetable garden in the beginning looks so promising and then after all little by little it grows nothing but vegetables, nothing, nothing but vegetables.”

July 5, 2012

It is the loveliest of mornings, sunny and cool. When I let Gracie outside, I followed her and stood on the deck for the longest time surveying my world and enjoying the start of the day. My vegetables are growing, and I need to stake my tomatoes as they are growing over the wire tomato thingies ( I don’t know what they’re called. Thingies works just as well for almost anything).

When I was growing up, the only fresh vegetable I remember eating was corn in the summer. I didn’t like tomatoes, and my mother didn’t serve salads. She knew we’d all turn up our noses. I ate canned peas, the small ones, the Le Seure peas; they were my favorite. My mother tricked us by hiding the carrots. She mashed them with the potatoes, and for years I thought potatoes were orange and white. My mother also served canned green beans, and we had to eat a few. All his life my father ate canned asparagus, long after the rest of us had found the joys of fresh vegetables. I remember my mother serving them to him at Thanksgiving. If you held up a spear, the top would fall over; they were a bit mushy. He always had the entire can to himself.

My father loved native tomatoes. Around here, when the vegetable season is at its height, people put out tables in their front yards with a variety of vegetables on them. The prices are usually on a piece of paper taped to the table and the money goes in a can. I’d load up on tomatoes and bring them up to my parents’ house when I visited. My dad would cut the tomatoes, load mayonnaise on his plate and take them into the living where he’d snack and watch TV. He always said there was nothing better than native tomatoes.

My dad would love my garden though I suspect he’d say dibs on the tomatoes!

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“The will of the people is the only legitimate foundation of any government, and to protect its free expression should be our first object.”

July 4, 2012

It’s raining but a summer rain which is almost gentle. I’m watching The Green Slime, a science fiction movie from 1968. The credits were accompanied by a wonderfully bad theme song. The plot is simple: astronauts have to blow up an asteroid on its way to Earth, but unbeknownst to them, they bring back the slime which turns them into crazed killers.

Today is, of course, the 4th of July, a day we celebrate the anniversary of declaring our independence. My memory is filled with celebrations for the 4th of July. One year, when I was little, I sat on the back steps and watched the fireworks bursting in the sky from the next town over. Starting when I was twelve and continuing until I was sixteen, I marched in the Wakefield parade. I was a member of St. Patrick’s Shamrocks drill team. Most years it was really hot, but the longest street was tree-lined which gave us a reprieve. Later, when I was an adult, I’d go up to my parents’ house, and we’d go watch that same parade. We’d set our chairs under one of those trees. On the morning of the parade, the street resembled a science fiction movie where all the people had disappeared leaving behind them empty chairs: they were there to reserve the best spots. After the parade, we’d have a barbecue. My mother made her deviled eggs and potato salad while my father tended the grill. The last few years I’ve spent with friends who would also have a barbecue with deviled eggs, and they’d get creative and serve interesting drinks. One year the drinks were blue, in keeping with the occasion of course. When I was in Ghana, we celebrated the American holidays. The 4th of July had no fireworks and no barbecue, it had friends getting together, a perfect way to spend the day.

This rain has me staying home today, but I’ll watch my traditional 4th of July movie: Independence Day. Usually Jaws is part of the double bill but this year it’s 1776, a favorite movie of mine. I’m going to barbecue but, alas, no deviled eggs.

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Where Is That Woman?

July 3, 2012

Today is this week’s off! Not Wednesday you say: well, you’re right, but tomorrow is the 4th of July, and I don’t want to miss it. I have my traditional song and a couple of new ones so drop by tomorrow for the festivities!

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“Morning is wonderful. Its only drawback is that it comes at such an inconvenient time of day.”

July 2, 2012

Monday still carries a bit of gloom about it even though I’ve been retired for so long. The Monday horror of the alarm abruptly pulling me from dreamland after two glorious days of sleeping in, the tiny Monday papers and the start of yet another work week dissipates slowly. It took 35 years for the weekday resentment to build, and the older I got, the more difficult  it was to drag myself out of bed. I loved my job but, on Mondays, I loved it the least.

I am not a morning person. I love the late nights when I am the only one awake, and everything is quiet. When all the houses around me are dark, I feel as if the night is mine. I’d probably be a great vampire if they really existed. I’d have no problem sleeping all day; however, the biting and the blood would be drawbacks. In Ghana, I actually liked the mornings and didn’t need an alarm clock. The roosters worked just as well, maybe even better as they didn’t need electricity or batteries. It was in the mornings when my school compound came most alive. I could hear the swishing sounds of brooms as students cleaned and swept the grounds then I’d hear the water from the taps splashing into their buckets and the clangs as the students hauled their buckets to the stalls where they’d take their bucket baths. Little kids walked by on their to the primary school and greeted me as I sat outside to drink my coffee. The morning air was always the sweetest and the coolest.

I love mornings in other places, wherever I travel.  I remember Santa Fe and getting to the square early in the morning where I sat and drank my coffee and  watched the Indians set up their wares in front of the Governor’s Palace. I watched store owners sweep the walks in front of their establishments and realized sweeping is a universal. In Portugal I watched trucks unloading fish and produce in front of shops and stores. I ate fresh rolls and drank strong coffee as I walked. Most places are best seen in the early morning when people are going about their business and the day is unfolding.

 

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